Page 21 of Wicked Villain

Another time, maybe.

For now, I have a wedding to plan and a rat to keep my eye on.

Marriage, and marriage to Corrado’s princess?

Fuck. I guess there really is nothing I won’t do to get what I want.

Marriage isn’t just a punishment so I could take everything that bastard owns. It’s a way of keeping my eyes on him and using him as bait to find Moretti.

I proceed into the house. As the hallway lights pop on, the princess’ head lolls to the side, revealing a tiny heart-shaped birthmark nestled just inside the hairline at her nape. Pretty.

I look ahead. Time to stop indulging in whatever fascination I have with her. The kiss was bad enough. I wanted a taste of those full, plump lips, so I took it.

It was nothing more.

Roman meets me at the end of the hall, a bemused expression on his face. I would have checked the cameras anyway, but it was he who drew my attention to Gabrielle’s escape attempt.

He was about to go after her. I told him I’d deal with it.

“She still alive?” he asks, his Russian accent thicker than mine.

“Of course. Can’t marry a corpse, now, can I?”

He shakes his head at me.

“Take her upstairs.” I hand her to him. I’ve had quite enough physical contact with her for one night. Roman takes her, cradling her body against his chest, then his wandering eyes move straight to her breasts. I don’t like it. Him looking at what’s mine. No, that’s not gonna work. “Make sure you take her upstairs and get back to work.” I sound harsh enough to put him in check. He gets the message and looks up straightaway—interest gone.

“Yes, boss.”

Roman has been my bodyguard since I was sixteen, but he knows I’ll end him in a heartbeat if he crosses me.

He leaves, gaze fixed ahead. I wait for him to head up the stairs before I make my way to the living room, where my brothers and uncle are waiting for me.

I open the door to the scent of strong whiskey and Cuban cigars.

Aleksandr and Cassian are pouring drinks by the wine cabinet while Uncle Yannick leans casually against the wall, puffing on a cigar. He looks as pleased as a panther who’s just devoured his daily catch.

Admittedly, I feel the same. Though I imagine Yannick has more of a sense of euphoria since it was he who unearthed the first lead on Moretti and Corrado.

It happened purely by accident when he was interrogating a snitch who snitched.

The interrogation was about the recent theft and attacks on our logistics company, something entirely unrelated to the past, but the lead connected all the dots. I did the rest, and while we have Corrado begging for mercy like the dog he is, I won’t stop until Moretti’s cold dead body lies at my feet.

Yannick raises his cigar as if he’s making a toast with a wine glass. Smoke curls around his clean-shaven jaw in a wisp, temporarily muting the Bratva tattoos inked along the side of his neck. “Well done. Tonight was a huge success, Pakhan.”

I smile and dip my head, but I’m still getting used to being called Pakhan. That was always Father. Now I’m him. I always tried to live up to him because I knew I’d become the Brotherhood’s next leader. I think I did him proud, despite my unhinged ways.

We all did. Aleksandr became my Sovietnik, Cassian my senior enforcer, and I kept Yannick in charge of the Obshchak.

Everyone is doing exactly what they were born to do. I just wish Father were here to see it.

He should have at least lived to see this day. Even to know that fucker Corrado was a lying backstabber and just as responsible as Moretti for Mother and Celia’s deaths. But cancer took him. In the end, it was just as cruel as the bullets that killed my mother and sister.

“Hear, hear.” Aleksandr and Cassian raise their glasses.

“Tonight was definitely a win,” I say, walking over to grab a drink. I need something strong after my encounter with the princess. “But we’re only halfway there.”

“Better to be halfway than nothing at all,” Yannick cuts in before I can continue.