Ayla’s arms tightened around my neck, her lips pressing against my skin in the sweetest kiss.
I pulled her even closer. “Can we leave now?” I muttered in her ear.
She laughed and shook her head. “No. Maddie will hunt us down.”
Fucking Maddie.
When I reached the middle of the garden, where all the tables and chairs were, I let Ayla down. She grabbed my arm to steady herself.
Pulling her closer to me, I gripped her hips possessively. The guests started our way, excited to finally meet Ayla.
With Ayla at my side, I introduced her to the rest of the Bratva.
“Alessio,” Dmitry said, coming closer with his wife and kids at his side.
Slapping me on my back, he said his congratulations. “Ayla, this is Dmitry Agron. Boss of the Agron Family. He is part of the Bratva.”
She smiled kindly and shook his hand. “And this is his wife, Lidiya. The little girl in her arms is Anastasia,” I continued to introduce.
Lidiya came forward and hugged Ayla. “It is so very nice to finally meet you, Ayla.”
“I would like to say the same. I have heard so much about the Agron family,” Ayla replied, placing a kiss on Lidiya’s cheek.
“And this is my son,” Dmitry said, pulling Grigory forward. He was fourteen years old, the next in line as Boss after his father.
“It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma’am,” he said with a slight bow.
Grigory nodded at Ayla, his face stern and hard. Emotionless. Well trained. I nodded at Dmitry in approval.
Behind Dmitry, I saw Valentin making his way to us. Fucking Solonik. I pulled Ayla closer to me, and she looked up at me, confused.
“Alessio, son…I am hurt that I had to hear of the wedding from someone else,” he said, coming to stand beside Dmitry.
His eyes went to Ayla, his stare burning into her. A small smirk appeared on his lips, and all I wanted to do was punch it in.
I felt a hand on my back. “Control, Alessio,” Viktor said quietly, coming to stand beside me.
“A lovely wife you have there,” Valentin continued, his voice thick with his Russian accent.
He moved forward, taking Ayla’s hand before she could even react. My fingers bit in her hips, trying to control myself at the sight of him touching my wife.
Valentin bent his head, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. “It is my pleasure, Ayla Abandonato,” he said, his eyes darkening.
“Ivanshov. Ayla Ivanshov. That’s my wife you are speaking to,” I growled, pulling Ayla away from him.
“Of course. My apologies,” he quickly said, his eyebrows raised in amusement.
“Valentin, how nice to see you after so many years,” Lyov said in Russian, standing beside Ayla. Isaak took his side, both of them glaring daggers into Solonik.
Ayla looked up at me, demanding answers. “It’s Valentin Solonik,” was my only reply.
Her eyes widened and stepped closer to me. Solonik might be part of the Bratva. He might have been a boss, but I was still the Godfather. He hated it. He loathed that the Ivanshov led the other families.
Valentin had always tried to find a way to take over, but he never got a chance. Not now and not ever.
Valentin and Lyov continued to converse in Russian.
“Where is your wife?” Isaak asked.
“She is at home,” Valentin answered drily.
He might have been old enough to be my father—his reign started around the same time as Lyov, but his wife was years younger than me.
“Are they speaking Russian?” Ayla whispered.
I nodded and slightly bent my head down so I could whisper in her ear. “Yes, Valentin’s estate is in Russia. He takes care of the business there. Barely comes over to the US or Canada.”
We stepped away from the crowd, Dmitry nodding at me in understanding. He took his wife by the hips, kissing her on the lips before leading them away.
“Can you speak Russian?” she asked quietly, her arms going around my waist.
I chuckled at the questions. “Of course, I can, Ayla.”
“Say something in Russian,” she demanded. “Emm…it sounded…nice when the others were speaking it.”
Pulling my wife against me, my fingers grazed her neck. She shivered at my touch, her eyes half closing as I trailed my finger down.
“Kotyonok,” I whispered roughly before nipping at her earlobe.
She jumped in response, her arms tightening around me. “What does that mean?” she whispered back, breathless.
“Kitten,” I replied, my teeth grazing her neck, biting down softly.
“Oh.” Her lips parted, and other ideas jumped in my mind.
“Alessio, man, do you need a room?”
I groaned and pulled away from Ayla. Erik Gavrikov smirked as he stared at us.
“Ayla, this is—”
“I can introduce myself,” he said, pushing me away.
“Fuck off, Erik,” I snapped back.
He laughed and pulled Ayla in a hug. He winked over her shoulders before stepping back. “I’m Erik Gavrikov. I’m sure you’ve heard of the name. The better-looking Boss,” he teased.