Gilded Cage: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 1) Nicole Fox (people reading books TXT) 📖

I roll my eyes and move down the jet so I can sit down. Cillian follows behind me and takes the seat opposite.

I glance out the window. We’re cruising through cotton candy clouds smudged bronze with sunlight.

“How long ‘till we arrive?” I ask.

“Couple of hours.”

I nod and stare out the window again as though I’ve never seen clouds before.

I can feel Cillian glancing at me every now and again, but I try and block him out.

The Irish bastard is the closest thing to a brother I have. Which means, when something’s up with me, he usually knows.

So, of course, he’s onto something now.

But I’m just not willing to talk about it.

I haven’t even told him about the fact that I’ve met Esme before. That I’ve fucked Esme before.

I don’t know why I don’t tell him, but somehow, it feels like a secret I want to keep to myself.

At least for now.

“It’s normal to be nervous, you know.”

I turn to Cillian, trying to figure out where his train of thought has landed. “What?”

Cillian shrugs and rubs his knees with his hands like he’s trying to get comfortable. “I’m just saying… marriage. It’s big.”

I scowl. If he thinks he’s about to improv as my marriage counselor, he’s got another thing coming.

“It’s not big,” I retort. “Doesn’t mean shit.”

“Oh, yeah, sure, totally, of course. One hundred percent. Absolutely.”

I can feel his incredulity from here.

I sigh and turn to him again.

“This is business, Cillian,” I remind him. “This marriage isn’t something either one of us asked for. It’s not real. It’s just… an alliance.”

“An alliance?” Cillian repeats.

“Well, a slightly one-sided alliance,” I admit. “But fuck, life isn’t fair. She should learn that now if she hasn’t already.”

A slight smirk crosses Cillian’s face. “Fair, it is not. I will agree with you there. But as far as forced marriages go… you got lucky, hombre.”

“If you say something like ‘She’s fuckable,’ I’m ejecting you out of the plane myself.”

“Fuckable?” Cillian echoes in disbelief. He disregards my threat completely, as per usual. “Come on, dude, you can’t tell me that she’s not one of the most beautiful women you’ve ever laid eyes on.”

I shrug my shoulders and try not to glance over in her direction. She’s still sleeping soundly. I’m pretty sure she’ll stay that way until the plane lands.

“She’s just a girl. Same as any other.”

“You can lie with the best of them, my man,” Cillian says. “But not to me. We’ve known each other for too long. You and I both know there’s something there.”

If you only fucking knew.

“Fucking hell,” I groan. “What the fuck is up with you today? You wanna talk wedding plans or something? You wanna help me pick out china patterns or floral displays? Is that it?”

Cillian just smiles in his easygoing way, completely at ease.

“Nah, that shit doesn’t do it for me,” he says. “But I do want to talk about the bachelor party.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course you do.”

“But, typically, that comes after choosing the best man.”

I look at his serious expression with wide eyes and then burst out laughing.

“You are a fucking cupcake,” I wheeze.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing,” Cillian scowls. “This is a very serious issue.”

I shake my head as my laughter subsides.

“Like I said, this is not a real fucking marriage. It’s a business arrangement. She may be my wife soon, but my cock is still destined for every other woman in L.A.”

Cillian cocks one eyebrow and looks at me pointedly.

I know damn well what he’s thinking.

In the last several months, I hadn’t exactly been sticking my cock anywhere.

Well, except for Esme.

But he doesn’t need to know that.

“What?” I challenge.

He holds up his hands in surrender. “Easy, tiger,” he replies. “I dunno. Maybe this could be something.”

“Are you fucking on something? It’s a little early to start boozing, Cillian.”

He raises a hand like he’s swearing an oath. “Sober as the day I was born, chief. Scout’s honor. I’m just saying, she’s the daughter of a mafia boss and you’re the son of a mafia boss. She understands the life better than most. Remember how hard it was for Marisha?”

I squeeze the armrests hard until my knuckles go white.

Her name sends a ripple of pain shooting through me.

Cillian is the only one who’s allowed to talk to me about Marisha—mostly because he was the only one with me in the days following her death.

He saw my rage, my pain, my sadness. He suffered when I had so much fury I lashed out.

And he stayed through it. He was loyal. Is loyal. I owe him my loyalty in return.

That doesn’t mean I like hearing it, though.

“I remember,” I nod with gritted teeth.

“She was strong,” Cillian continues. “But it takes a different kind of strength to live this life. To be a don’s daughter. To be a don’s wife.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It won’t be,” he acknowledges. “I’m just saying… it may not be the hell you’re imagining.”

He brings up a good point. Is “hell” what I’m imagining?

Before I can figure it out, one of my guys ducks in from the cockpit and informs us that we’re landing soon.

We buckle in. Half an hour later, we touch down.

I feel a small bubble of relief now that we’re back on familiar territory.

The mission went as smoothly as it could have.

But now comes the hard bit.

I walk over to Esme, who’s still sleeping soundly. Her breathing is soft and measured.

“Shall I take her in?” Igor asks, gesturing at her.

My immediate instinct is possessiveness.

No one’s carrying her out of here but me.

I catch myself before the unexpected anger spills out of me. Instead of saying what I’m really feeling, I just shake my head calmly.

“Go unload the weapons,” I order. “I’ll take the girl.”

Igor nods and disappears to do as instructed. Once he’s gone, I turn to Esme.

Bending down, I lift her up into my arms, as gently as I can so that I don’t wake her. It’s the closest I’ve been to a woman since…

Since the last time I