Kayla
“The Russian’s in the house!” Sasha calls as she bursts into the apartment Pavel and I share for the party we’re throwing to celebrate the season premiere of Bad Boys.
I love our new place—it’s so much nicer than anything I could have imagined, but Sasha and Maxim fully backed Pavel’s investment into the building, and he didn’t skimp on the remodel. We live on the top floor—like the bratva cell in Chicago.
Pavel had to work some deal out with Ravil, his pakhan, to let him move away. He still works for him in some capacities, but I don’t know what they are. We follow the don’t ask, don’t tell policy when it comes to bratva business.
“The Russian was already in the house, Krasnyy,” Pavel counters from the kitchen where he’s mixing drinks for my other former roommates, Ashley, Sheri, and Kimberly, who arrived together a few minutes ago.
“That’s true,” Sasha says, throwing her arms wide to hug me and deliver a kiss to each of my cheeks. “Sorry, old habit from when I lived with these ladies. And don’t call me Red.”
I hug Maxim, who entered after her, then the twins, Dima and Nikolai. Oleg didn’t come, but Story, his fiance, texted to tell me everyone at the Chicago penthouse would be watching it at the same time, just as my parents had promised.
Pavel’s mother, Khristina, is in the kitchen arranging the most magnificent gourmet charcuterie board with exotic fruits and real honeycomb. Apparently charcuterie boards are her new hobby, and she produces one for every gathering. Her English is as limited as my Russian, but we manage to communicate well enough when she visits or we go there.
“Privet, Khristina.” Maxim greets Pavel’s mother. She still lives in their building in Chicago, where she has made friends and is becoming a part of the community. Dima and Nikolai also greet her, stealing treats from the charcuterie board, which pleases her.
I’m giddy with nerves about the show, but having all my friends here for my premiere makes it a celebration. I love the way they fill the place—Sasha’s boisterous presence instantly turning it into a party.
After we’ve all had time to mingle and catch up, Pavel taps a spoon against a glass to get everyone to shut up. “Does everyone have a drink?”
“Where’s mine?” I scoot over to where he’s standing, and he hands me my Moscow Mule.
Pavel lifts his drink. “I want to thank you all for coming for Kayla’s big night. It means a lot to her that you all could make it.”
I stare at Pavel, my bad boy Russian, surprised at how charming my normally surly master sounds. He’s stretched in so many ways in the last months as we’ve made a life together.
“And I want to toast Kayla, our star, whose talent and tenacity we’re honoring tonight. She is the light to my dark. She makes me a better man every day.”
“Nostrovia!” Sasha and my roommates all yell together, lifting their glasses.
The rest of the Russians gape at them. “They know that doesn’t mean cheers, don’t they?” Nikolai asks Sasha. “What did you teach them?”
“That one was easier for them to remember,” Sasha says with a laugh. She winks at me as I dab the corners of my eyes with a knuckle. “Zazdaróvye,” she says the more traditional toast and the real Russians in the room repeat it and throw back their drinks.
“Now, everyone find a seat in front of the television,” Pavel orders, still the master in every way that counts.
Khristina carries the completed charcuterie board out—well, she tries to carry it, but Nikolai takes it off her hands, like a gentleman, and brings it to the coffee table in front of the television.
Pavel catches me around the waist and pulls me back to him. “Wait, little flower. I have something for you.” His hand dives into the pocket of his slacks, and he pulls out a delicate gold chain adorned with some kind of pendant. He holds it out to me, and I smile when I realize the gold pendant is a lock with a tiny key. He bought me an incognito slave collar. I lift my hair from my nape and turn around, offering my neck for him to collar me.
“You’re already mine. You’d better know that,” he murmurs as he fastens the chain. The pendant hangs just below the hollow of my throat. It’s classy and unique, and I love it. He turns me around and takes out the key. “I know we don’t need symbols, but I want to give you all of them.” He drops the key in his pocket.
I realize he’s watching me closely, and my heart starts to pound. Doms don’t ask, but he’s taking my measure. Not about the collar. About another symbol.
“I want them all,” I whisper.
The corners of his mouth lift.
I pat his pockets. “Is there something else in there for me?”
His chuckle is a warm, rich rumble that warms me from head to toe. “There’re a few things in here for you,” —he looks down at the bulge I produced in his pants— “but you’ll have to wait until later for the rest of them.”
I lean into him, my breasts pressing against his ribs. “What if I can’t wait, Master?” I whisper, giving him my best doe-eyes.
He shakes his head, his smile amused. “Naughty,” he murmurs but takes my hand and tugs me down the hall to our bedroom. “This wasn’t how I planned this, blossom.” He slides his hand in his pocket again. This time it comes out with a diamond ring on the tip of his index finger. He takes my hand and puts it on my ring finger, then leans his forehead against mine. “Marry me.” It’s one of his soft commands. The kind that drive me wild in bed.
“Yes. A million times over,” I murmur back.
He cups the back of my head and claims my mouth with a deep, beautiful kiss. “I love you.”
“I love you so much.”
“Kayla, where are you? It’s about to start!” Kimberly calls from the living room.
“We need our star in the room!” Sasha shouts.
Everyone is gathered in our living room around the TV—a blend of Pavel’s friends and mine. The melding of our worlds.
We watch the show together, with all of them offering endless commentary, except when I’m on screen and Pavel silences everyone with dark looks. My part isn’t huge, but I’m happy with how I played it, and I love the way they edited things together.
When the credits roll, Maxim pops a bottle of champagne and starts pouring it into glasses.
Khristina spots my new bling first and exclaims in Russian, clapping one hand over her mouth while she points with the other.
“Kayla’s got a new rock!” Kimberly hollers. “Let us see that! When were you going to tell us?”
“It just happened,” I laughed. “Like, right before the show started.”
My friends grab my hand and ooh and ahh over it as Pavel hands me my glass of champagne and clicks his against mine. “To my bride, the new star of Bad Boys.”
“It’s true,” Sasha calls out, holding her phone up to her face. “She killed it. Listen to the Twitter comments: Kayla Winstead is a talented newcomer to the show this season… We are all hoping to see more of Kayla Winstead this season… the fresh-faced actress provides new blood to the show! They loved you, girl!”
I blink back tears. “Oh my God. Wow.”
“You did that,” Pavel says in a quiet voice, even though everyone but Khristina knows what he means. “You did that all by yourself. You proved yourself.”
“I did, didn’t I?” my voice wobbles.
Pavel pulls me up against him and brushes his lips over mine, ignoring the fact that we’re the center of everyone’s attention at the moment. “I knew you’d be perfect.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, holding his gaze, so he knows I’m not thanking him for the compliment but for what he did to get me here.
His lips curve up in that sexy smirk of his. “Anything for you, blossom. You’re my everything.”
“Congratulations,” someone says, and glasses clink around us, but all I can see is the brutal, handsome face of the man I love.
The Soldier
