The Darkest Temptation (Made Book 3)

lacuna

(n.) a blank space; a missing part

RONAN

The gunshot wound in my arm throbbed and bled through my shirt. I must have busted some stitches open when I punched Alexei. And then Albert, who simply opened the car door for me after Mila dismissed me from her life. I didn’t know how to get rid of this irritable, edgy sensation beneath my skin besides violence—and even that didn’t release the tight, hollow ache in my chest.

It felt like she was stealing something from me.

Pain I could stand.

Robbery I could not.

“I flew back for ‘important’ business just to watch you silently muse on all your life choices,” my brother said in Russian, sitting on my office couch. “Care to share?”

I didn’t know how to explain the feeling in any other way, so I sat back in my chair and said, “She stole from me.”

He raised a brow. “Your pet?”

“Her name is Mila,” I growled.

Kristian sipped the vodka in his glass, trying to conceal a smile. “So what’d she take? You do have some nice crystal glasses.”

I didn’t know why I’d opened my mouth. Clearly, all of this was out of my element, and my brother was loving every second of it. I narrowed my eyes and tapped my pen on the desk as that unsettling feeling clawed at my chest.

My brother watched me with a serious expression. “You may think I got the short end of the stick between us growing up, but you’ve forgotten you were the one living in closets for years or being beat up by our mother and her clients.”

I raised a brow. “Are we taking a trip down memory lane?”

“I think it’s time, don’t you?”

“No.”

“I may be slightly out of touch with human emotion, but at least I understand it.”

I glared at him. “I understand it just fine.”

“Coming from the man who rationalizes unrequited love for the Mikhailov girl to her stealing from you.”

Being accused of “love” made me feel . . . awkward, so I deflected. “Firstly, nothing here is unrequited.” If it was, I would make it requited. “Secondly, I’ve seen the Hallmark Channel. This isn’t how love works.”

Kristian laughed. “I thought I might have to explain sex tips to my younger brother. Not love.”

“Think I got the sex thing down, but thanks.”

Staring into his tumbler glass, he swirled the vodka in his glass. “I loved Gianna for years before she ever even looked at me. Love isn’t hearts and flowers. Sometimes, it fucking sucks.”

“You’re really selling this to me,” I said drily.

“I don’t have to sell it. You’ve already gone and fallen for Alexei Mikhailov’s daughter.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t.

“I know you blame yourself for what happened to me.” The silence was heavy. “You feel so guilty over that shit you can’t let yourself care for other people—because if you couldn’t protect your own brother, why should you deserve any other meaningful relationships? Well, you need to get the fuck over it.”

Sometimes, I hated his unnatural insight. Other times, it made things easier for me because I never would have said that shit out loud.

“I feel like I should be lying on a psychologist’s couch.”

“You do have a pile of trauma-induced emotional issues on top of that if you want me to get into them.”

I gave him a “fuck off” look.

He smiled. “If anything, I should have been there for you more. I was the older brother. I shouldn’t have left the second I was released—especially knowing now how fucked-up you are.”

“This is truly therapeutic.”

“Good. Now, you can stop hitting people and start rehearsing how you’re going to tell Mila you love her.”

I chuckled. “Unfortunately, there’s no mirror in here, and I need to see myself during rehearsals.”

“By the way, welcome to the club,” he said with relish. “I’ve been waiting for the day I could call you whipped.”

Fuck.

I’d always avoided the word “love” like it was a disease, but now he’d put the idea in my head, it festered.

All that random stuff that came out of my mouth when I thought she could die was true. I’d fought death more times than I could count, but I knew I’d welcome it if it ever came down between me or her. I’d warned her about being selfless, and now it seemed I was practically sacrificial in regard to her.

The sickly-sweet girl with a soft heart and love of yellow had somehow filled a blank space inside me. And I couldn’t handle the thought of her anywhere else but with me.

Pros: My crystal glasses were safe.

Cons: It might really be unrequited.

I didn’t get time to muse on it further. The door flew open. My brother and I silently watched Kostya drag in a severed head and throw it to the floor. It rolled like a lopsided bowling bowl before losing momentum and stilling in the center of the room.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked, exasperated. My office was already a fucking mess.

Kostya was breathing heavily, covered from head to toe in blood. It dripped from the knife in his hand to the floor. Agitation worked through me. I was going to need brand new carpet at this point.

“Dimitri Mikhailov.”

I stared at him blankly, though internally, I was a second away from killing him with that knife in his hand.

“Are you hearing impaired?” I growled. “Or just fucking stupid?”

I’d ordered my men to stay away from the Mikhailovs. The desire for revenge waned the moment Mila had almost died. Retaliation wasn’t a single option after I saw her bleeding out. I needed her in my life, alive, and without the tears that somehow made me feel powerless—which unfortunately meant I couldn’t just kidnap her again.

Killing her papa might push her away forever, and I refused to accept that. Though I couldn’t see Alexei dismissing his son’s murder. Fury washed through me at the impact it would cause. I couldn’t get Mila back while I was at war with her father.

Kostya clenched his teeth, but pain glittered in his eyes. “Dimitri was the one who killed Pasha on Alexei’s orders. And since you haven’t done anything but fuck his daughter, I took it into my own hands.”

I smiled, but it wasn’t a friendly one. I didn’t want to kill Kostya and leave Vadim with two deceased brothers, but there didn’t seem to be another option.

The knife slipped from Kostya’s fingers, his voice thick. “Pasha was my little brother . . .” A single tear ran down his bloody cheek. “I had to do it. And I’m ready to accept the punishment.”

He was ready to die for his brother. I glanced at mine, who watched me with a drily amused expression. He wanted to know how I was going to deal with this, because he and I would have done the same for one another.

Albert appeared in the doorway, his eyes grim above the shiner I’d given him earlier today. He’d accepted the punch as if it went along with a normal “thank you” before driving me here.

“We have guests,” he said.

He didn’t have to tell me who was visiting.

“Give us a minute,” I told Albert before shooting Kostya a hard look. “You’ve fucked up bad this time. Disobey my orders or talk about Mila in that way again, and I will end you myself in the most painful way I can think of.”

Kostya swallowed.

“Now get the fuck out of here,” I growled. “I’m so disgusted with you, if Alexei is here to kill you, I’ll let him.”

Kostya didn’t need to be told twice. He disappeared out the door, leaving a blood trail like crumbs.

A moment later, Albert returned with Alexei and Ivan in tow. My shoulders tensed at the sight of Mila’s papa. I’d almost killed him when he showed up in her hospital room—not for Pasha, but for Mila. She’d stumbled into my restaurant nearly a month ago and changed my perspective on everything.

Alexei stopped in the doorway and took a long look at his son’s head on the floor, a mixture of pain and rage crossing his face. The man looked like he’d aged twenty years in a single day.

He didn’t say a word as he moved to sit on the couch across from Kristian. Alexei had always voiced his disappointment in his sons. I’d even seen him shoot Dimitri in the thigh once for fucking up. I expected revenge on the simple principle. I did not expect the man to put his face in his hands and . . .

Alexei Mikhailov was crying.

It was awkward as fuck.

I met my brother’s gaze and nodded to Dimitri’s head, telling him to do something with it—like nudge it behind the couch. He didn’t. He gave me a dry look and sipped his vodka.

While Alexei was having his moment, Ivan leaned against the wall and stared daggers at me.

“Long time no see,” I drawled easily in Russian, then frowned in thought. “Although there was that one day you visited my home and left naked to crawl back to your owner . . .” My eyes narrowed. “And we can’t forget that other time where you almost killed Mila with your failed attempt to off me. But other than that, I’d say it’s been a while.”

His gaze hardened. “If you didn’t kidnap Mila, she would have never been in that position.”

Frustratingly true. “Maybe not. But we all know the position you want her in. Too bad you’d rather fuck Alexei than his daughter. Not that you would have had a shot with her anyway.”

I was sure I’d get a reaction from Alexei then, but the man was still immersed in awkward grieving.

Ivan shot a cautious look at Alexei before saying, “I could have had multiple shots. I just wasn’t interested.”

I laughed. He couldn’t have her, so now he wasn’t interested. “You know, you remind me of a two-faced bitch. I’m beginning to wonder if you even have a dick.”

“Because I chose Alexei’s side? You call me a bitch, but you’re holding a grudge like one.”

Unperturbed by the insult, my mind flickered to the past. “I always knew something was off about you—the awkward loner who sat next to the trash cans in prison. Charged with murdering your grandma. I mean, your fucking grandma. The news painted her as this sweet old lady, but you convinced everyone of how evil she was . . .” I leaned back in my chair. “She really was a sweet old lady, wasn’t she?”

Murderous heat flared in his eyes.

“What’d she do? Forget to cut the crusts off your peanut butter sandwich?”

“Go to hell, D’yavol.”

Kristian and Alexei were now silently watching us, but I continued because I had shit to say.

“When I took you under my wing, you liked whatever I liked. I could say I liked a cucumber shoved up my ass, and you would say you liked it too. It was fucking annoying, but you were loyal to a fault. Only you weren’t, were you?”

Red washed up Ivan’s neck. “I don’t regret fucking you over. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I know. Because you’re a fucking snake that can reveal your true psychotic self under Alexei. He loves his men unhinged. I should know. I worked for him too.” I did multiple things on that man’s orders that I couldn’t even stomach thinking about today.

My eyes slid to Alexei to see his on mine. I wondered if he was mentally killing me, or if he was reminiscing on the past as well. Or maybe he was thinking about Mila and how I was indefinitely submersed in her life now—whether she liked it or not.

Kristian was content with his tumbler of vodka, though I could tell he was ready for things to turn south quick.

Ivan let out a bitter breath of amusement. “You call me a snake. Yet you’re the one who kidnapped a fucking innocent woman.” His eyes narrowed. “There’s no chance she’ll stay with you,” he snarled. “She isn’t that stupid.”

“So aggressive over a woman you supposably don’t even want,” I drawled. “Let me guess . . . Alexei promised you Mila when I first took her. And then he changed his mind, thinking Carter would be better after all. And you went along with it because you’re content kissing his ass.”

The shady flash in Ivan’s eyes confirmed it.

“I’m sure he gave you a consolation prize though—a trafficked girl to tide you over. Did you cut her up like you did your granny?”

Ivan lunged for me but halted when Kristian pulled out his gun and aimed it at his head, tumbler still in hand.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t if I were you.”

Alexei got to his feet. Besides in the hospital, this was the first time I’d ever viewed him so passive and defeated. At this point, revenge was a non-issue. The man was slowly killing himself.

He met my gaze with venom. “You’ve murdered my son.”

I raised a brow. “You almost killed him when he strangled one of your expensive girls to death.” I shrugged an indifferent shoulder. “So I didn’t really think it would be an issue.”

His eyes flashed. “You have my daughter in your hands now, so I have no choice but to end this now. I can’t afford to lose her on top of Dimitri with more war.”

I didn’t exactly have his daughter . . . though he must assume she’d chosen my side by taking that bullet for me. The thought brought me back to the second I noticed what she’d done, and my chest tightened. If she would have died and taken all her sunshine with her . . . fuck. The idea made me sick and made me see red at the same time.

“It’s a good excuse, Alexei, but we both know you’ve lost your touch. If Moscow wasn’t mine, it would have been another’s by now.”

His jaw tightened as he held in a retort, and then he turned to the door. “Come, Ivan.”

As Ivan picked up the severed head and followed his owner like a lapdog, I said with feigned concern, “And I might reconsider your hiring process.”

“Go to hell, D’yavol,” Alexei snapped.

“Can you guys mix it up a little?” I returned with annoyance. “Your insults are tired.”

After they both left, Kristian drawled, “Well, that was unexpected.”

Agreed. Not a single person died.

I stood up and rounded the desk.

“Where are you going?” Kristian asked.

“To rehearse,” I announced and walked out.

I realized Mila might need some space. I didn’t like the idea—in fact, every cell demanded I drag her back to my bed where she belonged just to know she was mine. But I had to work with kidnapping the girl, threatening to kill her papa, and a slew of other serious offenses.

I could be patient when I really wanted something. But I didn’t want her; I needed her.

If this was what they called “love,” then I’d own it.

I never did anything half-ass.