Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2) Nicole Fox (no david read aloud TXT) 📖

His abs are defined, creating sharp ridges in his abdomen, adding a new row to his six pack. There are a few new scars on his body, one I identify as the stab wound that had almost killed him, and the other as the bullet wound near his shoulder.

His jaw has a healthy layer of stubble, longer than what I’m used to, but it still suits him. He looks sexy in a feral, animalistic way that makes my clit throb.

And his eyes… his goddamn eyes. Those haven’t changed a bit.

They are just like I remember them. Intense, strong, powerful and staring at me with a possessiveness that I am just now realizing I have been craving since the moment I saw him last.

“Come here,” he tells me.

I go to him without hesitation. Truthfully, I think I’d do anything he says as long as he looks at me like that when he says it.

I plunk down on the bed next to him. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me close. His smell breezes over me, musky and masculine. I missed that, too.

Phoenix smiles and reaches a hand out for me. I wind my fingers through his and lean in to kiss his cheek.

“My sweet boy,” I say softly to him.

“Where’d you go?” Artem asks.

“For a walk,” I tell him. “I needed to… think.”

He nods at that, but I can’t really read his expression.

“Sara told me to give you a message,” he says suddenly.

I turn to him. “Yeah?”

“She told me to tell you that she thinks about you every day.”

I smile, feeling my eyes cloud a little. As horrific as the last few months have been, the people I’ve met along the way has made it bearable. Sara is a gem in an ugly world.

“How did she seem to you?”

“It looked like she was doing her best to cope.”

I nod. I get that. I get that so much.

“You saved her from being raped,” Artem says gently, as though waiting for me to confirm it.

I glance at him, and he’s looking me with a soft expression.

But he also looks… proud?

“I couldn’t let him do that to her,” I say. “Not after… I know what it’s like to have a man you don’t want touching you, touching you.”

Artem stiffens. He remembers that. The night we met, a lifetime ago, in that dark club bathroom…

“It’s a violation no human being should ever have to suffer,” I go on. “I was heavily pregnant. I was so scared. But I just couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

“Of course not,” Artem says. “That’s not who you are.”

“I think I killed him.”

“You didn’t,” Artem replies.

“Really?”

“Really,” Artem nods. “I asked. You injured him. Badly. But you didn’t kill him.”

I sigh. “I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“If you had killed him, he would have deserved it,” he points out.

“True. More than most.”

He leans in and kisses my lips gently. “It seems you leave quite an impression wherever you go.”

I smirk. “Is that a crack?”

“It’s a compliment,” he says innocently.

“At least I got to say goodbye to Sara,” I sigh. “I left Tonya without a word.”

“Yeah…”

I frown at Artem’s reaction and study his expression. “You mentioned you met her, too, right?”

He nods. “You may have hurt her feelings, leaving the way you did.”

“Fuck,” I sigh. “I knew I would. But I was just so panicked when I made the decision to go, and I didn’t think I could deal with another goodbye. I had to leave that place.”

“I’m not blaming you,” he reassures me. “My only question is why didn’t you leave sooner. That place was depressing as fuck.”

I nod, remembering just how awful it felt. To be surrounded by so much grief and heartache was… overwhelming, to say the least.

“I’d just given birth to Phoenix, my body needed time to recover, and I couldn’t afford to rent out a place of my own, especially considering I had no money coming in. The shelter was my best option to recuperate.”

I look at Artem, and realize how much he still doesn’t know.

But his eyes are looking at me and they’re soft and gentle and they’re saying, Tell me.

So I tell him.

I tell him about Sara and Ruby and the third trimester of my pregnancy.

I tell him about cramps and sporadic doctor’s appointments whenever I could find the money for them.

I tell him about the time I woke up believing I’d lost the baby because I had bled into my underwear.

I tell him about going to the bus station late at night, only to have Geoffrey drive me to the hospital as I went into labor and subsequently lost consciousness.

I tell him about waking up to meet my son, only to flee the hospital hours later.

I tell him about my time at the shelter and the unexpected friendship I’d found with Tonya.

I tell him about Nancy and the moment when I realized I wasn’t about to endanger my son’s life by staying at the shelter any longer.

I tell him about accepting an under the counter job at the day care, because it meant I would get to earn money as well as be with Phoenix.

I tell him about sleepless nights and busy mornings.

I tell him about leaking breasts and bouts of incessant crying.

I tell him about walking by the ocean in the evenings with Phoenix.

I talk so much that, by the time I’ve run out of things to tell him, I’m parched and my throat is dry and I feel emotionally drained.

I hadn’t even realized how much I needed to tell my story.

Artem, to his credit, doesn’t say a word the entire time. He just listens to me, holding my hand or stoking my back while I let it all spill out of me.

And when I finally fall silently, he takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“Esme,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

I frown. “You’re sorry…?”

He nods. “For everything that you had to go through,” he explains. “I should have been there with you the entire time.