Chapter 147

Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in my head. Several lightbulbs—a whole fucking electronics store. “Shit.”

Yulian frowns. “Care to elaborate?”

“There is another way.” I sit up straight, eyes wide on nothing. “A way to kill his case without killing him.”

And I’ve had it all along.

Yulian sits up next to me. “Then let me in on it. If I can help, I will.”

“No need.” I smile brightly at him. “You already did.”

Then, before he can pry any more, I grab his face and kiss him.

His surprise lasts exactly two seconds. Soon, he’s kissing back, dragging me into his lap. “I take it we’re celebrating?”

“Not yet,” I whisper against his lips. “But right now, I’d like to say thank you.”

Yulian’s eyes go dark. His hands find my ass, kneading it as he pulls me flush against his hips. “Then I guess I’ll have to let you.”

I ride him until we’re both breathless. Until I’ve come more times than I thought anybody could in a single day. Until he’s filled me up to the brim, over and over again.

Because, this time, I’m going to win.

48

MIA

The next morning, Yulian kisses me good luck in front of the courthouse. I linger on his lips long enough to keep his warmth with me. “Think we can swing some non-alcoholic champagne for later?”

Yulian watches me with equal surprise and awe. “You’re awfully confident.”

“I’m awfully motivated.” I twirl his tie between my fingers. “And I’ve got a damn good plan.”

He hums, darkly pleased. “And you won’t share.”

“Nope.” Guilt flits briefly in my chest, but I swat it away. “Can’t afford to jinx it.”

The truth is, I’m not actually that confident. This is still a gamble, and a risky one at that. But if I’m going to have any hope of selling it to Brad, I have to sell it to myself first.

“Then I’ll take back my good-luck wish.” Yulian kisses me again, deeper this time. I lose myself to it—the feeling of his fingers on my chin, the scrape of his beard on my face. His cologne, cedarwood and amber and dark, dark promises. “And buy a bottle of the finest sparkling cider the world has to offer.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I grin. “Tonight?”

Yulian’s face clouds briefly. “Not tonight,” he says. “I’ve got… business.” A strange sense of unease settles on my shoulders. But then Yulian’s expression clears as he adds, “Tomorrow. We’ll celebrate tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. A good word. A hopeful word. “I like the sound of that,” I whisper against his lips. I steal one more kiss, then dash out.

The courthouse is as solemn as I left it. I’m a little early, but that’s on purpose. I wanted to get here before my family and friends. Definitely before Isaak.

Apparently, someone else got the same idea.

Brad flashes me a victorious grin from across the hallway. Smithers isn’t there yet, but I knew he wouldn’t be. Brad was always an early bird. Today, he has even more incentive to be here before anyone else. He expects my surrender.

Too fucking bad.

As if to confirm that, he swaggers towards me. “Come to beg for mercy?”

“Should I?” I keep my tone casual. “Beg for mercy?”

“A smart woman would.”

“Thought you said I wasn’t smart.”

“You could change my mind.” He accompanies that comment with a sneer. “Or try to, anyway.”

I could tell him off right now. Nip this in the bud, end the game before we even get started on round three.

But I want to savor this.

It’s a very Bratva-esque feeling. It’s the kind of thing Yulian would do. Certainly not meek little Mia, with her BSc in running scared and a lifetime’s worth of experience in keeping her head down.

Guess I’ve changed, too.

Because this time, I’m holding my head way fucking high.

“And what would that look like?” I pretend to be interested. “Your mercy?”

Brad’s chest puffs up even more. He reminds me of a subway pigeon, strutting along the tracks, oblivious to the headlights coming up behind him. “Well, let’s see. You didn’t behave very gracefully last time I showed you kindness. You’re gonna have to earn that back. In fact, I’m thinking I could use a new maid.”

“A maid, huh?”

“Sure.” He leans down, tone lecherous. “Clean my house by day, clean my pipes by night. On your knees, like the bitch you are. With good behavior, you’ll be back in my bed within the year.”

His words make me sick. Everything about him makes me sick. I think back to that summer together, all those years ago, and can’t fathom what ever drew me to him. To this monster wearing the face of a man.

Because he wasn’t all bad. The memories fill my heart with a pang of regret. There was still hope for him. If he’d chosen differently—if he’d chosen to be a good man instead of a bad one.

But he didn’t.

“What about the baby?”

“My doctor will take care of that.” He throws a disgusted glance at my belly. “You should’ve known better than to test me like this, sweet thing. It’s not smart.”

Fire rises through me. Fire and fucking brimstone. And then, to my surprise, a new feeling bubbles up right on its heels. I can’t help it—I laugh.

And laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

A vein starts popping on Brad’s temple. “Something funny?”

“It’s not smart to test you?” I’m practically doubled over. “You, who’ve never fought a single battle on your own? Who’s been hiding behind your daddy’s money your whole life?”

Brad starts fuming at the mention of his father. “That’s it,” he spits. “I was gonna show you mercy, but⁠—”

“Prizrak.”

Silence falls like a guillotine.

“What did you just say?”

I enjoy watching Brad’s face lose all color. “I think you know what I said.”

“You don’t know anything.” He looks like he’s trying to convince himself rather than me. “You don’t know⁠—”

“Oh, but I do know.” I take one step forward. “Prizrak. Desya Bogdanov. Need I go on?” I take Brad’s silence for an answer. “Wanna hear what I think?” Again, silence. “I think this all started with your dad.”

Again, the mention of his father is enough to twist Brad’s face into something animal. “You keep my father’s name out of your filthy mouth.”

I ignore him. “Daddy Baldwin always prized three things above all else: his money, his power, and his connections to dangerous people. More often than most, the latter was the reason he even had the other two. When he died, you inherited that part of his life, too.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Brad’s face takes a trip through all the colors of the rainbow. “My father was a great man. He made himself. He⁠—”

“He paid off the mob,” I cut in without sympathy. “Only, instead of having to go around pleasing all the powerful families in New York, he found the one organization who had them all under siege. A syndicate of cowards—just like him.”

“Don’t you dare.” Brad’s voice starts rising. “Don’t you fucking dare talk about him, you pathetic excuse for a bitch in heat!”

“And there it is.” I grin. “Your true colors. Nice of you to finally show everyone.”

His gaze darts to the side, panicked—and that’s when he realizes who’s there.

Kallie. Nikita. Mom. Dad.

And Ginny, too.

Her face is the most shocked of all. “Bradley…?”