Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(12)

“So tight—it almost hurts,” he groaned.

Violet’s teeth sunk into her lower lip as the familiar wisps of pleasure started building in her body again. He must have felt the way her * was clamping down on his cock because his next thrust came so much harder, enough for her eyes to fly shut and to make a scream of his name escape her lips.

She still felt as if she couldn’t breathe, but she was.

Staccato breaths—but it was there.

Violet found herself lost in the sensations all over again. The sounds of their f*cking, the smell of sex in the air, his gruff voice demanding she f*cking take it and f*cking come, Violet.

And so she did—hard, crying, and shaking.

It was as if they hadn’t even been separated. It was as if that time didn’t exist.

Not then.

Not when they were like this.





The soft knock on the cabin door had Kaz shooting up, wild eyes trying to peer through the darkness of the room. But there was no danger, and he wasn’t in jail anymore. At the moment, several thousand miles above the earth, he was the safest he could ever be.

“Yeah?” he called, sitting up further, even as he glanced down at the shadowy shape of Violet’s body. She was still out cold.

“We’ll be landing soon. You have to be seated.”

“Thanks.”

Kaz took a moment to get his bearings before he felt around the floor for his pants and shoved his legs into them. Circling the bed, he touched a hand to Violet’s side, shifting it up to her shoulder, and then to the mark he had left behind along the curve of her neck.

She stirred, her eyes blinking open.

“We’re about to land.”

She didn’t question him, merely redressed and joined him back in the cabin. Not too long after, he could see the lights of the private runway where they were landing. As they got closer to the ground, he could better see the car waiting for them at the end of it.

And if the way Violet had stiffened beside him were any indication, she’d noticed it as well.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he told her as they came to a rolling stop.

“Are they Russian?”

Scratching the back of his head, Kaz nodded. “But you’re with me, and that’s all they need to know.”

Violet still didn’t look convinced, but she would just have to take his word for it, or at least until she formed an opinion for herself. At least they weren’t going to be around the family for the next couple of weeks.

When they came to a stop, Violet was out of her seat belt first, heading back to the bedroom. “I’ll grab … whatever’s left.”

Or mentally prepare herself, Kaz thought.

He was the only Russian she had spent any real length of time with. She didn’t understand their customs, their rules, and was practically stepping into the middle of an unfamiliar environment.

This was new for her, and he wouldn’t push her.

The door to the plane buzzed as it fell open, and Kaz pulled out a handful of bills from his pocket, tipping the pilot and flight attendant before going out to meet someone he hadn’t seen in at least a year.

Upon first glance, Konstantin Boykov didn’t look to be a threat to anyone, but Kaz knew what the man could do with a pocketknife and a little inspiration. Only two years younger than Kaz was, his name was already being whispered; some higher-ups believed he was ready for the very stars Kaz had on his own chest.

For right now, though, he was second to his father. Still mentoring was how Vadim had described it, but Kaz recognized it for what it was. He was being groomed to take the old man’s spot.

“Been a while, Markovic,” Konstantin said as he stepped forward, shaking one of Kaz’s hands even as he reached around to clap him on the back. “What have you done this time?”

Kaz didn’t get a chance to answer before they were both turning at Violet’s sudden appearance as she came down the steps. She hadn’t only gone back for whatever was left behind in the bedroom, but she had also fixed her hair and straightened her clothes further.

But there was no hiding that purpling bruise he had left her with.

“Guess you made your point,” Konstantin said with a grin, turning his eyes to Violet. “You’re her, then? Italian, no?”

“Yes.”

“And let me guess, Alberto Gallucci’s daughter?”

Violet glanced at Kaz, a question in her eyes, before she said, “Yeah. How did you know that?”

“There are only two big Italian families in New York at the moment—your father is the larger of the two.”

That answer would have been good enough. It explained, while not, at the same time, but Konstantin wasn’t finished.

“And Kaz has a pair of f*cking stones on him. Of course he’s f*cking the one who’s going to get him shot the quickest. So where are we headed?”

It took every ounce of self-control Kaz possessed not to respond to the man, especially when he knew Konstantin was only trying to get a reaction out of Violet. But like any other good Italian principessa, she gave no reaction at all.

“Are we going to stand here all night, or are you going to drive?” Kaz asked, gesturing to the Mercedes behind them.

Unbothered, Konstantin merely smiled and spun his keys around his finger. “Welcome to Chicago.”