Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2) by Nicole Fox (novels to read for beginners txt) 📗

cling to the illusion of perfection that we’re currently engulfed in.

Is that so wrong?

After we finish eating, we pack up. Artem slings our bag over his shoulder and takes Phoenix from my arms.

“I’ll carry the little one back,” he tells me.

Phoenix stays awake the whole way back into town. Even when we cross the boardwalk and get into the car, he coos happily in Artem’s arms, running his tiny fingers through the curls of Artem’s beard.

I end up driving back because I don’t want to intrude on their bonding moment.

Though that’s also dangerous, because I can’t stop looking over at them and having my heart melt and ooze out through my eyeballs.

We get back to the apartment just after the sun has set. Phoenix yawns hugely against Artem’s chest and starts the heavy blink that means bedtime is imminent.

Once he’s changed and bathed, I feed him again and settle him back into his bassinet for the night. He’s asleep from the moment I set him down.

Artem and I end up in the shower together so that we can wash the sand off our bodies.

Of course, that inevitably ends with shower sex.

But this time, it’s slow and tender. It soothes the ache between my legs and when we fall into bed, naked and immensely satisfied, I go to sleep every bit as fast as my son did.

I sleep soundly for a while. But my body clock has me blinking awake when it’s still dark outside.

I glance over at the bassinet. Phoenix is still where I placed him earlier.

But Artem is not by my side like I expect him to be.

It’s funny—the bed is so small, and yet it still feels empty without him.

“Artem?”

No answer. He must be in the bathroom or something.

I turn to Phoenix. My breasts are heavy, so I feed him. Then I put him back in his bassinet. Still no sign of my husband.

“Artem?” I call out again.

No answer.

I pad out of the bedroom and into the tiny excuse for a living room.

Artem is sitting on the low sofa in the darkness. Gazing at the far wall as if there’s something there.

But there’s nothing. Nothing at all. His gaze is miles away from here.

He looks at me then, but he still feels so far away.

It scares me all over again. It tells me what I’ve known deep in my heart since right after he showed up at my door: that the bubble is about to break.

I temper my emotion and sit beside him.

The fairy tale is about to end.

You wanted to know how long this would last, didn’t you?

Well… here’s your answer.

“Tell me whatever you need to,” I begin.

He sighs deeply. It’s a sound I’ve never heard from him before. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” I snap. “Just tell me what you have to.”

He nods, but it’s still several more seconds before he finally breaks the silence.

“Esme, you and Phoenix, you mean the world to me,” he says.

I squeeze the armrest and brace myself for what’s coming.

“But I never should have made you believe I was leaving the Bratva behind.”

The hairs on my arm rise.

But nothing else changes.

And I know why instantly.

Because I’ve been expecting this all long.

Deep down, I’ve always known where Artem’s choice lay.

“The last several weeks, I’ve been consolidating power,” Artem continues. “I’ve been preparing to take on my uncle and fight for what’s mine.”

I nod slowly, as though I understand. Part of me doesn’t. Part of me does.

“I thought I could let you go,” he confesses. “I thought I could give you the freedom you crave so much. But… I’m a selfish fucker. I want you in my life, Esme. You and Phoenix. We’re a family and we need to stick together.”

I look down at my trembling hands, trying to process everything he is telling me.

“Hate me if you must. Get angry with me if you have to,” he says. “But come back to Los Angeles with me.”

I look up at his intense eyes, pooled in shadow. Despite their darkness, they’re so clear. They make me feel like I can fall into them.

“What if I say no?” I ask.

His body tenses instantly.

“I… I don’t know if I can accept that,” he admits. It’s a vulnerable answer. An honest one.

“Meaning what?” I ask. “You’ll force me back? Lock me in a room? Visit me at night to demand I perform my wifely duties?”

A ripple of hurt flashes across his eyes but his jaw doesn’t unclench. He’s still determined. Still hopeful.

“I will never force myself on you,” he says icily. “I just want you to understand why I can’t walk away from the Bratva, Esme.”

“Okay,” I say. “Tell me.”

“You may think it’s just about getting revenge. Avenging Cillian and Stanislav. And it is about that, I won’t deny it. But it’s more.”

He grips my hand and continues.

“The Bratva is my family. I owe it to the men who are trapped there under Budimir to free them. I owe it to the men who died for my father to come back and fight on their behalf. I owe a lot of things to a lot of people.”

He hasn’t blinked or wavered once. His voice is strong and unyielding.

It’s the voice of a don.

“I’ve realized what I want now, Esme,” he tells me. “Maybe if I’d been born to a different family, things might have been different. But this is the only life I know. I can’t be anything else but what I am. This is it for me, Esme. This is my life. And I want you in it. I want to leave Phoenix with something and this is all I have to offer. My legacy. My father’s legacy. The Bratva.”

I stare at him.

My heart is pained, but I know what my decision is without having to think about it.

I’ve known it for a while.

But it had only cemented itself in my consciousness earlier today when we were at the beach.

All I really need is my husband and my son.

“This is not