Sofia
I sit close to the poker table, keeping my legs crossed. The fact Miron ripped my panties apart was hot at that time-now it’s just annoying. I feel exposed.
None of it matters, though, because the man taking my father on right now loves me. I almost thought I’d missed heard him when he murmured it for the first time. It felt like my heart was going to explode when he repeated it.
My whole body still tingles from our lovemaking. It’s impossible not to think about how that man makes me feel twenty-four seven.
The tension in the room is at an all-time high, as the games continue.
Andrei managed to score himself a game at another table. High stakes- millions of dollars up for grabs. Vera says he’s into poker. I wish poker were Miron’s thing, as he looks out of his comfort zone.
He may have done well in the last hand, but there’s a long way to go. My stomach churns as I notice my brother limp into the room. I try to keep my eyes anywhere but one him, hoping he won’t notice me.
Yerik never passes up an opportunity to taunt me. He sits down in the chair next to me, but I keep my eyes fixed on Miron.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he says, leaning over me.
“Hello, Yerik.” I glance at him, before shifting my chair over. “If you don’t mind, I’m watching the game.”
He laughs and shakes his head. “Dad is going to beat the shit out of him, and you know it.”
I stand from my stool and try to move away from him.
He grabs my wrist and yanks me back toward him. “Don’t get too comfortable, Sofia.” He pulls my arm even harder. “We’re going to destroy you both.”
A shiver runs down my spine as I try to pull away. Finally, Yerik lets go of me.
Vera appears a moment later. “Is everything okay here?” She glares at my brother.
“I was telling Sofia not to get comfortable.” “Who the fuck are you?” Vera asks.
His face drops. “Yerik Romanov. I’m-”
Vera grabs him by the collar and brings her knee up to his crotch. “A bully for picking on your sister. Leave her alone.”
Damn. I wish I had the guts to do that to my brother. The bastard has had that coming for so long. No one will ever stand up to him. Vera is an interesting character-I’m still not sure what to make of her yet.
“Thanks for doing that,” I say.
She smiles. “You’re welcome. If you ever need someone to put a bully in their place, give me a shout.”
“Thank you.” I turn my attention back to the poker game, realizing I’ve missed a hand.
Miron is collecting a pile of chips in the center of the table. My father’s face is thunderous. He hates losing at poker.
“It looks like Miron is doing well.” Vera takes a seat.
I sit down next to her, keeping my eyes on Miron. “How is Andrei doing?”
She shrugs. “I think he has lost some money, but the stakes aren’t high.” “A million dollars isn’t a high stake?”
“Not to the pakhan of the New York brotherhood.”
I know the New York brotherhood is wealthy, but that’s fucking ridiculous. We sit in tense silence as the next hand plays out. Miron folds, obviously playing safe. He hasn’t had any significant losses yet, unlike my father.
The same large guy I’d seen Andrei speaking to earlier with auburn hair and beard walks over to us. “Is this seat taken?” he asks.
I stare at him, uncertain of who he is.
When I don’t answer, Vera speaks, “No, Alexi. Take a seat.”
“Thanks.” He smiles at me. “I’m Alexi, by the way.” He holds out a hand for me to shake.
I shake it, accepting he’s a friend of theirs. For some inexplicable reason, I trust Vera and Andrei. Vera may be a little different, and so is Andrei, but they’re also not like my father. I knew that the moment I met them.
“Alexi, didn’t you bring Detective Miller along?” Vera asks.
The glare he gives her would make most people shit themselves. “Vera, don’t push me.”
Vera chuckles as if he didn’t growl at her like a feral beast, waving her hand in the air. “You are the easiest guy to wind up.”
He ignores her and turns his piercing gray eyes to me. “I hear Miron has joined the brotherhood.”
I nod my head. “Yes, are you part of Andrei’s brotherhood?” He smirks at me. “Yes, Alexi Barinov, sovietnik to Andrei.”
My stomach churns as I recognize his name. Alexi Barinov is as twisted as they get in the bratva world. His story is infamous amongst the Russian bratva – an orphaned boy groomed from a young age to lead a brotherhood until it all went south.
A shudder pulses through me as I remember the story I’d read about him.
He clears his throat, and I realize I’ve been staring at him in silence for too long.
“Sorry, it’s nice to meet you.”
Vera twists to face him. “How’s Andrei getting on?”
Alexi shakes his head. “Fucking abysmal. The guy lost over two hundred thousand dollars on the last hand. I can’t stand to watch it anymore.”
“You know Andrei doesn’t lose. He has a plan,” Vera says, crossing her arms over her chest.
“A plan to lose a boatload of cash, yeah,” Alexi adds, turning his attention to the game in front of us. “How is Miron getting on?”
I swallow hard, as he sets his cards down for the next hand. The pot is fifty thousand dollars. He has a straight flush. I sigh in relief as my father throws his cards down, revealing three of a kind. “Miron is getting close,” I mutter, noticing the dwindling number of chips on his side of the board.
Vera pats me on the back. “Poker can be a tough game. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
I know she’s right. One false move on Miron’s part could spell the end of our relationship. Every time he wins, I can see the confidence grow, and I worry he’s going to get too cocky. After watching my father for years, it takes a half-decent hand and a rash decision to go all in to destroy our happiness forever.
The bell rings again, and the dealer calls, “Break for fifteen minutes.”
Miron looks up and finds me in the crowd, before standing to his feet. The smile on his face is more handsome than I can explain. He’s so unbelievably beautiful.
He approaches, and his eyes land on Alexi. The flash of jealousy that he’s sitting next to me is unmissable. “Who are you?”
Alexi stands and squares up to him. “I’d watch how you speak to me.
I’m Alexi Barinov, sovietnik to Andrei.”
Miron instantly drops his shoulders out of respect. “Sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair, before extending it out to Alexi. “It’s good to meet you, sir.”
I chew on my bottom lip, realizing that despite his position with my father, he’s now back at square one. He’s beneath this younger man, and It doesn’t suit him. Miron is a powerful man and should have a position to match that. As of yet, Andrei hasn’t given him his assignment in the brotherhood.
Alexi grabs his hand. “It’s good to meet you. I’ve heard many things about you.”
Their handshake is firm as they stare each other out. There’s a tension in the air. In the bratva, there’s always going to be conflict when one sovietnik moves to another brotherhood. Miron poses a threat to his position.
Alexi drops his hand and clears his throat. “I must be off.” He turns and smiles at me. “It was good to meet you, Sofia.” He nods at Miron. “And you, brother.”
Miron watches as Alexi walks away, before turning his attention to me. “How are you holding up?” he asks, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Fine, how about you?”
He smirks at me. “I’m a hundred and fifty grand in chips better off.
Your dad is down to one hundred thousand.”
I shake my head. “Don’t get carried away, Miron. It only takes-”
He kisses me hard, silencing my warning. “Believe me, Sofia. I’m not one to get cocky and gamble with my future happiness-our happiness.”
“Good.”
Someone clears their throat behind me, and Miron turns.
My father is standing there, glaring at the both of us. “Don’t get ahead of yourselves. The game isn’t over yet.” He glares at me. “Mark my words, you will be returning to your rightful place, Sofia.” With that, he marches past us and onto the outside deck.
“Ignore him,” Vera says, still sitting on the stool. “He’s trying to get into your heads.”
Andrei approaches and grabs her hand. “I’m sorry, but I must steal my fiance for a moment.” As he leads Vera away, it leaves me alone with Miron.
He pulls me close again and kisses me softly. It’s painfully passionate as we remain locked together in each other’s embrace. Whenever I’m in his arms, the rest of my problems fade away.
He breaks away. “It’s almost time for the final round.” I tug at the ends of my hair.
“What’s bothering you?” he asks.
“I don’t want to lose you, Miron. I’m scared.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t be. I’m going to win this.”
The ring of the bell signaling there’s only a minute left echoes around the room. “See you after,” he says, letting go of my hand and returning to his seat.
Vera returns and sits down on the same stool, saying nothing. It’s time for the closing act.
Will I be leaving with Miron or will I be dragged out by my father?
THE OTHER POKER games have ended. Somehow, Andrei pulled his losses back and won the entire game and a five million dollar pot.
All eyes are on Luka and Miron, the last game still in play. My father is down to thirty thousand in chips. It can’t go on too much longer.
The dealer deals another hand before setting the flop down on the board. I wish I could see Miron’s hand from here, but it’s impossible. My father is the first to make a bet, grabbing a few thousand chips and tossing them into the pot.
Vera draws in a breath. “Damn, this is tense.”
Her inner-monologue isn’t appreciated. Right now, I need silence.
Miron is quick to call, but I’m worried. My father hasn’t yet tapped the table-his only tell. It’s a nervous thing he does without even realizing it. One time, I brought it up to him. He shouted at me and told me to mind my own business. If he’d listened to me, he’d probably be winning right now. Thankfully, he’s too proud to listen to his daughter or a woman at all for that matter.
The dealer sets down the next card. It’s a ten of spades, and the flash in Miron’s eyes as he sees it gives me hope. The card is good for him, but what does my father have? He checks, which is the first time he hasn’t been aggressive in his betting for a while.
Miron glances at his cards and then back at the pot in the center. “Ten thousand,” he says.
My heart pitter-patters against my rib cages, as I wait for my father’s counter.
“Call,” he says.
The dealer sets another card down, and I hate not knowing what Miron has in his hand. “Luka, it’s your turn,” the dealer says.
My father nods his head. “All-in.” He pushes the last twenty thousand in chips into the pot.
I hold my breath, wondering what Miron is going to do. “Call.” He pushes an equal number of chips into the pot. My head swims in anticipation.
“Luka, reveal your cards.”
He sets his cards down, and it’s a full house. The hope inside of me deflates. It’s a good hand. All I can do is hope Miron’s is better.
“Miron,” the dealer prompts.
Miron reveals his hand, and my heart skips a beat. A murmur breaks out as he reveals his hand. Four tens. I almost shout in relief, realizing Miron has beaten him.
The dealer announces the result, “Four of a kind beats a full house.
Miron wins the hand and game.”
Miron grabs the chips and draws them onto his side, smiling widely. My stomach churns as I notice my father’s hand slip into his jacket. He pulls out a gun and points it at Miron.
I should have seen this coming. My father never intended to let him win me. He was always going to put up a fight, and for what? He doesn’t care about me. All he wants to do is assert his position and teach Miron a lesson.
It looks like this is far from over.