The Life (17 page)

Maybe the jealousy stemmed partly from his upbringing, and a little more from his job. A lot of men in his business only thought of women as toys to be used and discarded. The ones they
wanted to keep for themselves, they kept locked away on a shelf to be admired. Trophies, as it were.

Anton never wanted his wife to be seen as his trophy, but allowing his desire and love for her to be written out clear as day was a double-edged sword. Yes, he spoiled her to the nines and back, gave
her whatever the hell she wanted whenever she wanted it, but he also let her do as she pleased. Viviana didn’t stray out of line, and she
never
strayed from him.

To the men in their world, she was an enigma. A woman who didn’t need to be taught or reminded what was expected of her, who didn’t socialize outside of the people closest to her husband without first knowing it was okay, and a woman who had yet to have even a shred of impropriety blemish her reputation.

His wife—the
boss’s
wife.

It wouldn’t be abnormal for other men to watch Viviana, and want her, too. Or, they wanted to see if there was something hidden going on beyond what they could see. Mafia wives were one thing, but Anton’s wife was something else entirely.

Anton hadn’t expected all of those things from Viviana—nothing beyond her loyalty and love—but she gave it anyway.

Viviana sighed. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay down here with you until he leaves.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“However …”

Her tiny hands grabbed at his sweats, pulling him into her and the counter. Anton hadn’t stumbled in years, but when his wife’s fingers slipped beneath the cotton of his workout pants and boxer-briefs without any indication she planned on doing it, his knees damned near buckled.

“Fuck … Vine, wait—”

“Nope.” She hushed a soothing sound, dragging her teeth against his cheek. “Be extra quiet, okay?”

Anton fucking choked on his tongue, when those soft, nimble fingers of Viviana’s wrapped around his length and squeezed. Whenever he was close to her, his cock was always semi-hard and ready to go, so it only took a few slow, tight strokes of her fist around his length to get the blood rushing straight down to his groin. Already steel-hard, the vein in his shaft throbbing to the beat of his heart, Anton swallowed the groan bubbling up in his chest.

“Clarissa and the pa-paint—”

Viviana clicked her tongue, biting down to his jaw sharply and causing Anton to hiss from the sting. Now it was his wife in control—teasing his body with talented squeezes of her grip in just the right spots on his length, rolling the tip of her thumb over the crest of his cock, scratching lightly with fingernails over tender flesh as she slid her hand back down.

“It’s a good thing I love my man,” Viviana whispered.

Her tongue snaked out and st
ruck his lips with heat and wetness. Burying his mouth into her chest, clenching his teeth to hide the moans threatening to fall, Anton shuddered against the sweet smell of his wife and her body. Sparks were bursting behind his closed lids as she stroked him faster, her grip turning snugger.

It should have surprised Anton how fast his cock started to ache with the want for release, but it didn’t. His wife had been in too much pain that morning for him to even consider sex, and he’d been too damned busy for the last couple of days and coming home late.

Viviana kissed the top of Anton’s head, her free hand coming to tangle into his hair as her fingernails scraped along his scalp soothingly. Precum spread under her wandering fingers every time she reached the head of his member, the sticky fluid lubricating sensitive nerves as his body jolted into her embrace like the sudden jerks of his hips.

“Jesus, Vine, don’t make me come like this … I want to be inside of you,” he growled.

Viviana laughed breathlessly, her legs tightening to his waist at the same time her fingers clasped painfully tight around his throbbing dick. Effectively, she rooted him in place. “No, I think I want to feel my husband’s come all over my fingers.”

When she tugged once, then twice, on his cock, Anton grabbed hard to her thighs and compelled the moans of pleasure bubbling up in his throat to go away. Realizing his wife wasn’t about to stop in her drive to make him come in his pants, Anton relaxed into the sensations curling his groin with a burning bliss, allowing the pressure to build. Higher it went with every stroke. Tighter it coiled with every squeeze.

“Faster—fuck, please go faster.”

She hummed her agreement low and throaty, the noise reverberating straight to his groin.

“A good thing I love you,” she said again.

Her fingernails in his hair dragged down over his neck and beneath his shirt. The pain registered, but barely. Viviana could leave a dozen marks on his skin and he wouldn’t care. Anton loved them.
Especially when she marked them over his tattoos.

“Love my man foul-mouthed with his quick temper. Love him when he’s jealous and possessive. Love him when he’s downright
bad
.”

There was no denying the orgasm tightening through his stomach and balls. Muffling the groan against her skin, Anton panted as his cock spilled warm come into Viviana’s hand. The jolt of electricity that bit through his flooding veins had him struggling to stay upright.

Anton needed to find some solid ground, he wished the color would come back to his blurred vision for a moment, and he wanted his lungs to work again. Viviana let him have his moment to recover, trailing her hand up and down his tense back slowly and calmingly. Eventually, Viviana pulled her hand from the confines of his sweatpants and leaned over the kitchen sink to turn on the tap. Clearing his throat to rid the thickness that had built up, Anton stayed silent while she washed her hands before drying them on his shirt.

“I’m a towel, huh?” Anton asked, amused.

“The dishtowel is over on the island. I’m super comfortable right now. I didn’t realize how much my feet were hurting until I sat down and they stopped.”

Yeah, that’s why Anton wanted her to cool it for a while. Unfortunately, his pretty wife was too damned stubborn to hear a thing he said, so Viviana needed to notice those things on her own. Ignoring the stickiness coating his softening cock, Anton released his hold and reached down to massage her calves and ankles with both hands for a few, quiet minutes. Those happy, soft moans of pleasure she gave in response was all he needed to continue.

“Go chill out on the couch—get a movie going. I’ll be in after I clean up.”

“Get new pants, too.”

Anton chuckled. “That means I’ll have to go see the painter in our bedroom, baby.”

“Don’t kill him, Anton. I want that mural finished today.”

*

With her legs elevated, back melting into plush pillows, and the television humming with an old mafia movie sure to make Anton guffaw, Viviana was comfortable and content. She was wondering where in the hell her husband disappeared to. It had been a good half hour since Anton went upstairs to change and clean up, so she was starting to worry for the painter’s health.

The poor man, he really had no idea of just how possessive Anton was over the space he was currently painting. Of course, she could hear the quiet conversation coming down from the stairwell, so it was more than likely Anton found a momentary friendship in the painter.

When
Demyan kicked a particularly tender spot under her rib, Viviana cursed low and pushed back on the little foot with two of her fingers. That didn’t seem to work, so she repositioned herself on the couch until the baby calmed down. While she enjoyed her pregnancy, she would sure be pleased to see it come to an end.

Viviana was ready to have her body back to herself and a baby boy in her arms.

The cell phone on the coffee table ringed with a vibrating jingle. It was Anton’s phone, and he had everyone’s numbers programmed with certain songs or tunes, so it wasn’t one she recognized. Snatching up the device, Viviana realized she didn’t recognize the number on the screen, either.

Unsure if she should answer the call, Viviana dropped it back down to the coffee table. “Anton, you’ve got—”

“Pick that up for me, Vine. It might be important. I’ll be down in a moment.”

Rolling her eyes, she was quick to pick up the phone again. “Hello?”

“Viviana. What a pleasant surprise to hear your voice.”

Instantly, Viviana sat up on the couch. She didn’t recognize the man, but by accent alone, she knew he was Russian and his voice somehow felt familiar to her memory. He also seemed to know her. Covering the phone’s speaker with her thumb, she called to Anton once more, a little more forceful the second time. Her husband’s footsteps upstairs followed her request quickly and Viviana went back to the call.

“Good evening,” she replied politely. “I can’t say we’re on level ground, though. Forgive me, I don’t have a clue who you are, and I wouldn’t want to be rude.”

The man’s laughter was scratchy and gruff, but he seemed to enjoy her confusion. That didn’t settle well with Viviana at all. “Unfortunately we never had the pleasure of meeting at your husband’s birthday party last October. I would have been so honored to meet the daughter of
Nicoli Avdonin, well, before Anton broke my nose, that is.”

Oh shit. The caller was Sergei. The Jersey
Pakhan Anton had been attempting to make contact with for weeks.

Viviana’s eyes widened just as Anton slid into the living room sporting a worried expression. It was too late, though. She had already picked up the call and it would be the worst thing she could do to just hand it over without speaking to the man. To some, it may seem like she had shunned Sergei even if that wasn’t the case. That could lead to a dangerous situation, as Viviana’s word was taken just as seriously as Anton’s, which was why she often chose to keep her mouth shut.

Bad blood, they already had more than enough of it between their families.

I’m sorry
, Viviana mouthed to Anton.

He wouldn’t even know what for, or why, but Viviana felt like she had to say it anyway.

“Put it on speaker,” Anton said.

Viviana did what he asked, but two fingers to her lips to signal for him to be quiet.

“Sergei,” she finally responded into the phone, managing to keep the shake out of her words. “This is a surprise.”

“I’ll say.” Anton practically spat the words through his clenched teeth, though they were barely breathed at all.
“Perfect timing.”

“Is it?” Sergei asked. “I had heard your husband was very interested in speaking with me, but I’ve been terribly busy. Surely you understand, Viviana. He must have been expecting my call, wasn’t he?”

The tension drawing Anton’s jaw tight was worrisome. As he sat down on the couch, Viviana reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand, hoping to calm his anger a little. His own hand found the crest of her swelled stomach and rubbed back and forth gently.

“I’m sure he was,” Viviana said. “We’ve also been busy, so it isn’t too hard to believe our communication lines might have been mixed up, no?”

Viviana’s words were an offer to give Sergei an excuse for ignoring Anton, but it was also a way for her to say his disregard was forgiven. By anyone else’s standards, they would think the conversation was confusing. Viviana knew between her, Anton, and the man on the phone, everyone understood her veiled implication perfectly.

Sergei chuckled into the receiver. “So I heard. You must be awfully close to having that baby of yours.”

“Ours,” Viviana corrected instantly, not bothering to keep the bite out of the word. She didn’t like how he referred to Demyan as only her baby, as if maybe he didn’t belong to Anton at all. That was not only offensive, but a prick move she thought may have only been intended to bother her. “And yes, just three more weeks, if he doesn’t come early on his own.”

“
He
?” Sergei asked, surprising coloring his tone. “Well, this is news to me. I hadn’t heard the child was a boy. Another little prince for the Avdonin family, how wonderful. Anton must be overjoyed.”

“Sure he was. Just the same as before we knew the baby was a boy.”

Viviana didn’t hear Sergei’s response to her as she was too busy rolling her eyes in Anton’s direction and making a chatter motion with her hand.

“
Shh,” Anton said with a smile and a shake of his head.

She barely caught the end of Sergei’s next sentence as her mind was distracted by Anton.
“… if you agree, that is.”

“Pardon me?” Viviana asked
.

“Didn’t you hear my request?”

Viviana frowned. This was why she didn’t like to pick up Anton’s phone unless she knew who was calling and why. “No, I’m sorry. Anton just came back in from the backyard so I was telling him you’re on the phone. Would you like to—”

Sergei’s chuckling stopped her from saying more.
“No, my dear. What I would like is for you to answer my question and then I will speak with your husband. I’m sure he has much to say to me, but I want a guarantee first.”

Something painful lodged in Viviana’s throat.
While the rest of their conversation had been laced with innuendos regarding Bratva business, that one was a hell of a lot more frank.