15
Nikolai
After morning s*x and Chelle’s champagne brunch Sunday, I feel like a king.
No, more like I’ve been reborn. For the last four years, my bratva cell was my entire world. Ravil was the most benevolent dictator—all-seeing, generous, inclusive. Living all together on the top floor of this building was everything to me.
When things changed, I lost my way. My identity. What to live for.
Now, with this place, with Chelle running around n***d doing my bidding, I feel like life restarted.
“Come here, Freckles.” I slide out and turn one of the barstools at the breakfast bar around. “Climb up here.” I pat it.
She comes over, her n*****s beaded up and perky. I grasp her waist and lift her onto the bar stool.
“Good girl.”
Her gaze is both interested and wary. She trusts me, though.
