Filthy Lies (Akopov Bratva Book 2)

The future is bright. So is the Costa Rican sun in my eyes.

But as we stand at a literal finish line, scissors in hand, all I can think is that the metaphors are hideously on the nose today.

The ribbon before us is a crimson slash against the pristine white facade of the resort—a deliberate choice. In my world, red has always represented power. Blood spilled. Debts paid. Enemies vanquished.

But today, it symbolizes something else. A rebirth.

I glance at Rowan beside me. Fucking hell, the years have only enhanced her. Pregnancy has sculpted her body into a weapon of mass destruction, fuller in the hips, tits that make my mouth water. Her caramel hair spills down her back, catching the light like melted gold. She’s traded her usual emerald dress for a white power suit that hugs her curves, but a flick of green silk at the collar pays homage to the color I’ll always associate with her.

The color she wore when I first noticed her. Really noticed her.

Our six-year-old Sofiya stands in front, her little brother Arkasha—nearly four and already a menace—perched on Arkady’s hip. My best friend who once held a gun to my head is now godfather to my son. The contradictions of our lives would be poetic if they weren’t so fucking twisted.

“You going to cut that ribbon or just eye-fuck your wife all day?” Arkady murmurs just loud enough for me to hear.

Rowan doesn’t miss a beat. “He can do both,” she returns with a savage little smile that goes straight to my cock.

It’s been five years since Andrei’s body was discovered in the Hudson, throat cut and cold. Five years of navigating the FBI’s watchful eye.

Five years of trying to become a man who deserves her.

But I’m not that man. I never will be. My hands are still stained with the blood of those who threatened what’s mine.

I’ve just gotten better at washing it off before coming home.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer booms over the microphone, “please welcome Vincent and Rowan Akopov as they officially open Emerald Bay Resort!”

The crowd erupts in applause. Politicians, business leaders, celebrities—all eager to rub elbows with the wunderkind developers who transformed a stretch of undeveloped coastline into what Travel + Leisure has already dubbed “the crown jewel of luxury eco-resorts.”

We step forward in unison, scissors positioned at the ribbon. As the metal blades slice through, I lean close to Rowan’s ear.

“I still want to bend you over every surface of this fucking resort,” I growl low enough that only she can hear.

“Starting with the check-in desk?” she whispers back, green eyes dancing with mischief.

“That’s just the appetizer.”

The ribbon falls. Cameras flash. Our children cheer. And somewhere in the crowd, Agent Carver watches with his shark eyes.

He approaches as the crowd begins to flow inside for the champagne reception. He looks older, gray at the temples, but no less dangerous. A wolf in a fed’s clothing.

“Congratulations, Akopov,” he says, extending his hand. “The Bureau is impressed with your transition to legitimate enterprise.”

I shake his hand, my grip tighter than necessary. A reminder that the man who once executed enemies with his bare hands still lives.

“High praise coming from you,” I reply evenly. “I trust that means our monitoring period is officially over?”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s discuss that later, shall we? This is a celebration, after all.”

Rowan’s hand finds mine, her fingers digging slightly into my palm. A warning. Stand down.

“Of course,” I concede. “Please, enjoy the party.”

We separate to mingle. I watch Rowan work the room like she was born to it—charming investors, flattering politicians, her laughter floating across the space like the deadliest kind of music. She’s learned the game so well it’s easy to forget she once trembled in my presence.

Now, she’s the mother of my children, my partner in every sense, and sometimes—in moments like this—I wonder if she’s surpassed me.

An hour into the reception, I find myself cornered by the Costa Rican Minister of Tourism, a man whose enthusiasm for our resort is matched only by his enthusiasm for the kickbacks I’ve arranged to fatten his wallet.

“Mr. Akopov, this property will transform our entire coastline!” He claps me on the shoulder with uncomfortable familiarity. “You must tell me, what inspired such vision?”

What inspired it? Good question. The need to launder millions in blood money? The FBI breathing down my neck? The desire to give my children a legacy that doesn’t include weekly visits to prison?

“My wife,” I say instead. “She saw potential where others saw obstacles.”

It’s not the whole truth, but it’s not a lie, either.

I excuse myself and head to the balcony overlooking the infinity pool that stretches toward the Pacific Ocean. The sun is beginning its descent, casting everything in a golden glow that feels like absolution I don’t deserve.

Rowan finds me there, slipping beside me with a glass of champagne in each hand. “To legitimate success,” she offers with a raised glass.

I take the flute. “Is there such a thing for people like us?”

“We’re making it exist.” She clinks her glass against mine. “Drink. Celebrate. You’ve earned this, Vince.”

I down the champagne in one swallow. It’s exquisite, but I barely taste it. My mind is elsewhere. On the future, perhaps.

“This is more than just a hotel,” I say quietly, gesturing to the sprawling property below. “This is proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“That we can build instead of destroy.” I turn to face her fully. “There’s more to the Akopov legacy than blood and fear.”

Her eyes soften. “I never doubted it.”

“Liar.” I smirk. “You doubted everything about me. With good reason.”

“Not anymore.” She sets down her glass and steps closer, her body flush against mine. “I know exactly who you are, Vincent Akopov. The good, the bad, the very fucking scary. And I’m still here.”

I grasp her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “Why?”

“Because monsters need love, too,” she says. “And no one loves like we do.”

I kiss her then, hard and possessive, not giving a fuck who sees. Let them watch. Let them see.

We have nothing to hide anymore.

When we break apart, I see Carver watching us from inside. He raises his glass in a mock toast before disappearing back into the crowd.

“He’s up to something,” Rowan murmurs against my chest.

“He’s always up to something.” I run my hand down her spine. “But not even he can take this away from us. Not now.”

Hours later, when the last guest has departed and our children are asleep in the presidential suite under the watchful eye of their godparents, I find Rowan in our private villa, standing on the terrace that overlooks the bay for which we named the resort.

She’s stripped down to nothing but moonlight and shadows, her naked back to me as she stares out at the water. I pause in the doorway to drink in the sight of her.

Mine. Still mine, after everything.

“They’ll never stop watching us, will they?” she asks without turning. She knows my footsteps, my breathing, my presence like her own heartbeat.

“No.” I don’t sugarcoat it. Never have, never will. “But they’ll find nothing to see.”

“Nothing they can prove, you mean.” She faces me then, gloriously nude and unashamed. “What did Carver really want today?”

I cross to her, still fully dressed in contrast to her nakedness. The power dynamic should be in my favor, yet she’s never looked more in control. I reach for the buttons of my shirt.

“He wants to extend the monitoring period,” I say. “Another five years.”

Her eyes flash. “On what grounds?”

“New intelligence suggesting ties between our shipping operations and the Ozerov Bratva.” I step out of my pants, leaving them pooled on the floor. “It’s bullshit, of course. A fishing expedition.”

“Can he do that? Legally?”

“There’s legal, and then there’s federal.” I’m naked now, too, my cock already hardening at the proximity to her. “They can do whatever the fuck they want if they sell it right.”

Her hand finds my cheek and combs through my beard. “Then we’ll fight it. Together. Like we’ve fought everything else.”

I capture her wrist so I can press my lips to her pulse point. “Tomorrow. Tonight, I want to christen every goddamn surface of this place.”

She laughs, the sound like broken glass and honey. “Where do we start?”

I lift her by the waist, setting her on the balcony rail. The sixty-foot drop to the rocks below doesn’t faze her. Nothing does anymore.

“Right here,” I growl. “Where anyone could see you. Where anyone could witness that you belong to me, and I to you.”

Her legs wrap around my waist, drawing me to her center. She’s already wet, already eager, already mine.

“I’m all yours, Mr. Akopov.”

Five years, and still my cock responds to her like it’s the first fucking time. Like I haven’t been inside her thousands of times before. Like she hasn’t birthed two of my children, carried my name, worn my ring, held my bloodied hands when they needed cleaning.

Her body gleams in the moonlight, soft curves begging to be carved up by my hard edges. My cock is rigid against my stomach.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers as she taps my chin.

“Beautiful?” I laugh. “What I’m about to do to you is many things, but beautiful isn’t one of them.”

Her pupils dilate, swallowing the green until only a thin slice of it is left dancing around the edges. But she swallows and arches a brow. “Prove it.”

The balcony overlooks the entire resort. Anyone could look up and see the CEO and his wife, naked under the Costa Rican moon. Anyone could witness how I fucking worship her.

I dare them to.

I grip her throat, not squeezing yet, just establishing dominance. Her pulse hammers against my palm. “Touch yourself, moya zhena,” I command. “Let me see how wet you are for a killer.”

She obeys instantly, one hand sliding down her stomach to the apex of her thighs. Her fingers part her slick folds and reveal a glistening pink that makes my mouth water. She strokes herself slowly, deliberately, putting on a show.

“Soaking,” she confirms, bringing her fingers to my lips. “Taste what you do to me.”

I suck her fingers into my mouth to taste her arousal—tangy, sweet, familiar. My grip on her throat relaxes as I release her fingers with an obscene pop. “My turn.”

I drop to my knees, dragging her to the edge of the balcony rail. Her scent hits me first—that perfumed musk that’s driven men to war for centuries. I spread her wider.

“Mine,” I growl before burying my face between her legs.

The first stroke of my tongue makes her gasp. The second makes her moan. By the third, she’s threading her fingers through my hair, holding me against her core. I devour her, alternating between deep strokes and targeted flicks against her clit.

“Fuck, Vince,” she pants as she rolls her hips against my face. “Right there. Don’t stop.”

I have no intention of stopping. Not until she’s trembling, until she’s begging, until she remembers exactly who she belongs to.

I seal my lips around her clit and suck hard, slipping two fingers inside her at the same time.

Her back bends as she cries out. I curl my fingers forward, seeking that spot inside her that makes her crumble. When I find it, her entire body convulses.

“That’s it,” I murmur against her flesh. “Come for me. Let everyone hear who’s making you scream.”

Her thighs clamp around my head as she comes undone. I work her through it, relentless, until she’s pulling at my hair, oversensitive and gasping.

Then I rise and replace my mouth with my hand. I continue to stroke her as I claim her mouth in a bruising kiss. She tastes herself on my tongue, moaning into me as I press a third finger inside her.

“Now, you,” she demands, reaching for my cock.

I swat her hand away. “Not yet. I’m not done playing.”

I lift her from the rail and turn her to face the view. The drop beneath us is dizzying, the resort lights twinkling like earthbound stars. I press her forward until she’s bent over the rail, ass in the air, completely exposed.

“Look at you,” I growl, running my hand down her spine to the curve of her ass. “The mighty Rowan Akopov, bent over like a slut. What would our board of directors think if they could see you now?”

She looks back at me over her shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded with desire. “They’d think I’m the luckiest woman alive.”

I smack her ass hard enough to leave an immediate red handprint. “Lucky? To be fucked by a monster?”

“By my monster,” she corrects. “The only one who knows what I really need.”

I reach around to stroke her clit again. My other hand wraps around my cock, stroking slowly, teasingly, letting her feel it brush against her entrance without pushing in.

“You want this?” I ask. “You want to be split open on my cock while the whole fucking world could be watching?”

“Yes,” she hisses. “Please, Vince.”

I withdraw my hand from her clit, bringing my fingers to her mouth. “Suck,” I order. “Get them nice and wet.”

She takes my fingers eagerly, tongue swirling around them, coating them with saliva. When I pull them out, they’re glistening. I trace a path down her spine, between her cheeks, until I find her puckered back entrance.

“Here, too?”

Her breath hitches. “Yes. Everywhere. All of me belongs to you.”

I press one finger inside her ass, slowly, carefully, even as my other hand guides my cock to her core. The double penetration makes her gasp, body tensing momentarily before relaxing into the intrusion.

“That’s it,” I praise, working my finger deeper as I inch my cock inside her. “Take all of me.”

When I’m fully seated, buried to the hilt in her pussy with my finger firmly inside her ass, I pause. The feeling is exquisite—her tight heat around my cock, the clutch of her body around my finger. I lean forward, my chest against her back, and wrap one hand around her throat again.

I feel her pussy tightening around me, her lust spiking with the controlled lack of oxygen. I know exactly how much pressure to apply, exactly how long to hold—we’ve done this dance many times before.

It never, ever gets old.

I release her throat. She desperately gulps in air as I pick up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin mingles with her moans and my grunts. I add a second finger alongside the first in her ass, stretching her, preparing her.

“You take me so well,” I praise, kissing her shoulder. “My perfect fucking whore. My beautiful queen. My everything.”

Her head drops forward as she pushes back against me. “More,” she whimpers. “Harder.”

I withdraw completely so I can spin her around to face me. In one smooth motion, I lift her, impaling her on my cock again as I press her back against the wall next to the balcony door.

“Look at me,” I command, one hand returning to her throat. “I want to see your eyes when you come on my cock.”

She meets my gaze, her eyes hazy with pleasure and the beginnings of oxygen deprivation. My grip tightens again as I thrust upward, changing the angle to hit that spot inside her that makes her see God.

“That’s it,” I growl as her walls begin to pulse around me. “Come for me, Rowan. Show me what only I can give you.”

The pressure on her throat increases for a moment before I release completely, allowing blood to rush back just as her orgasm crashes through her. The combination sends her into a frenzy, nails raking down my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

“Vince!” she screams. “Oh, God, Vince!”

Her pussy grips me like a vise, pulsating around my length, pulling me deeper. I lose myself in her, in the sensation, in the knowledge that this woman is mine.

I carry her to the bed inside, still buried inside her, unwilling to break our connection. Then I drop her to the mattress.

“On your knees,” I order hoarsely. “Ass up.”

She complies immediately, positioning herself with her face pressed into the mattress and her ass raised high. I kneel behind her and run my cock through her soaked folds before positioning it at her back entrance.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Yes,” she moans, pushing back against me. “Please, Vince. I need you everywhere.”

I press forward slowly, watching as her body accepts my intrusion. The tight heat of her ass around my cock is almost unbearable, pleasure so intense it borders on pain. When I’m fully seated, I pause, allowing her to adjust.

“Fuck,” I groan, leaning over to kiss her spine. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

I begin to move, shallow thrusts at first, one hand continuing to work her clit while the other grips her hip for leverage. As her moans increase in volume, I pick up the pace, fucking her ass with the same intensity I’d shown her pussy minutes before.

“Touch yourself,” I command again. “I want to feel you come while I’m in your ass.”

She reaches between her legs as I continue pounding into her. She’s making sounds I’ve never heard before, but fuck if they aren’t as perfect as all the ones I’ve spent years memorizing already.

“That’s it,” I praise. “Come for me again. Show me how much you love taking my cock in your ass.”

Her third orgasm of the night hits hard, her entire body convulsing as she screams into the mattress. The spasming around my cock pushes me over the edge, and I follow her into oblivion, emptying myself inside her with a roar.

It feels like I give her my soul as I come.

When there’s nothing left to give, I collapse beside her. Her body is slick with sweat, her hair a tangled mess, her lips swollen from my kisses. She’s never looked more beautiful.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “That was…”

“I know.” I kiss to her temple, gentler now that the storm has passed. My hand drifts to her stomach, a gesture that’s become a habit over the years. “I love you, Rowan. More than I ever thought possible.”

She turns in my arms to face me. “I love you, too, Vincent. All of you. I always have.”

We lie in silence for a moment, basking in the afterglow, in the miracle of us—two broken people who somehow fit together perfectly.

When we get our wind back, we fuck again, slower and softer this time. We lose ourselves in each other, happily, gratefully.

Eventually, dawn comes to spoil the party. It breaks through the windows, painting Rowan’s naked body in gold and crimson.

Blood and sunlight. The perfect metaphor for the life we’ve built.

I trace the scar on her abdomen from Arkasha’s birth—a permanent reminder of how close I came to losing everything. My hand drifts higher, feeling her heartbeat beneath my palm. Strong. Unbreakable. Just like her.

“Remember when all we had were filthy lies?” I murmur against her hair. “That you were just my assistant. I was just your boss. We were just fucking. That it all meant nothing.”

She turns in my arms. “And now?”

“Now, we have filthy truths.” My voice breaks slightly, a crack in the foundation I’d never allow anyone else but her to see. “I would do terrible things if it meant keeping you and our children safe. I still want to consume you, even after five years. You make me want to be better.”

Her fingers trace the silver in my beard, nails lightly scraping my skin. “I wouldn’t change a single lie that brought us here.”

Outside, our empire glitters in the morning light—legitimate on paper, baptized in blood beneath. Inside, our children sleep peacefully, innocent and oblivious to the violence in their DNA.

This is our legacy. Not the money. Not the power. But this brutal, beautiful truth between us.

Some monsters deserve love.

Some lies become gospel.

Some promises, even the filthiest ones, are meant to be kept forever.noveldrama

Ours is one of those.