Page 47 of The Pakhan’s Heir

Everything shifted between us on the night that Fedor Molotov died. Practically speaking, it’s a big deal for a Pakhan to lose his life. I’ve heard stories of entire Bratvas falling into civil war because the previous Pakhan thought he was going to live forever and never bothered to name an heir or named one that no one respected. Papa used to tell me there were entire family lines that no longer existed all because of the implosion that comes with the death of a leader.

Luckily for the Rostovs, that’s not what’s been happening. My husband already has the respect needed to move forward with his claim on the throne, so as far as I’ve heard, there haven’t been any internal conflicts.

And between the two of us, everything took a one-eighty on the night he shared his grief with me. He’s stopped pushing me away and started pulling me closer. The pillows between us are gone and every night, he pulls me into his arms and makes love to me.

He still understands my place, however. While things are good between us, he’s not inviting me into any meetings or along with him to do deals. Still, this past month since my father-in-law passed away… It’s got me rethinking a lot of things.

This morning, I woke up to the sound of him in the shower. I know he’s got things he’s got to get to today. Things that, when I ask about them, he just kisses me and tells me not to worry and that he’ll be back soon. I sit up and listen to the shower run, the thoughts about my place in this mess playing out like they always do at this time in the morning.

Kostya told him that the Irkutsks claimed responsibility for killing Fedor… But the more I think about that, the less it makes sense. I haven’t spoken to my father since the wedding, and even if I had, I never found out anything about the meeting where he was ambushed. If the Irkutsks were responsible for this assassination, then what was the point of my getting married to Alex in the first place?

Whatever the reason, I think I’m done spying for my father. I knew that he had no intention of keeping the peace between the families, but to jump the gun like this… I don’t understand it. And he’s made me feel abandoned.

My stomach lurches a little and a wave of nausea hits me. I rub my stomach and look around for the half glass of water that Alex brought up to the bedroom late last night for me. Sitting on the nightstand, undisturbed, there it is between the lamp and my phone. I reach over and take a drink, hoping it’ll settle my stomach.

The shower turns off and a few minutes later, Alex walks out. “You’re awake,” he says.

I smile at him. God, he looks so good. Wearing nothing but a towel, his wet skin shines under the amber lights of the room, highlighting his defined pecs and abs… those little lines that lead down past the towel to my favorite place to ride. His hair has been slicked back from the water and the silver streak in it seems to shine on its own light. His sky blue eyes light up as he returns my smile.

Just looking at him is a treat.

“I was just thinking of getting some breakfast,” I say. What I really want to say is I was just thinking of ripping that towel off you and giving you a little morning head.

His smile twists a little, turning into a crooked smirk as if he can read my mind. “Breakfast, huh?”

I nod. “I know you’re busy today, so I won’t ask you to join me… but it’d be nice if you could spare an hour or two and maybe join me for lunch later?”

“Lunch. Hmm,” he says. “Well, if you’re feeling up to it.”

He turns and goes back into the bathroom, and I tilt my head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We were supposed to meet up for lunch yesterday and the day before that. And the day before that, I believe I wanted to have breakfast with you, but you weren’t feeling well.”

“I wasn’t. I mean…” He’s not wrong. I haven’t exactly been feeling a hundred percent lately. This nausea I’ve been having has been touch-and-go. Every time I think it’s over, I throw up and it starts all over again. I clear my throat and finish my thought. “I’m okay right now. I’ll probably be fine all day today.”

He leans into view, narrowing his eyes a little. “If you don’t want to spend time with me, all you have to do is say so.”

“Of course, I want to spend time with you. In fact, give me about ten minutes and I’ll prove it.”

He steps all the way into view and arches an eyebrow. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish, little rabbit.”

That feels like a challenge. I get out of bed and walk over to him, then I trace a finger along his damp skin, down the hills of his abs until I hook it into his towel.

“Ten minutes,” I purr as I start pulling at the towel. “Let me serve my king for just this moment? Please?”

His eyes roll up a little. He loves it when I beg him. He takes my chin and lifts it up so that he’s looking into my eyes.

“Ten. Minutes,” he says. “Not a minute more or there will be consequences later.”

Promise? I almost say, but I know better. If I push it, we’ll be here all day.

He takes off the towel and says, “On your knees, Rabbit.”

“Yes, my king.”

I’m on my way to the coffee shop, the taste of Alex still on my tongue. God, I wish he could have stayed home. Every day he’s gone feels like torture sometimes.

My phone buzzes in my pocket as I approach the coffee shop, and I pull it out. It’s my father.