BRITISH BRATVA
AN OLDER MAN YOUNGER WOMAN ROMANCE
_______________________
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD, 2
FLORA FERRARI
CONTENTS
Copyright
Series
A Man Who Knows What He Wants
Bratva Bear Shifters
Lairds & Ladies
Russian Underworld
This Book
British Bratva
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Series
A Man Who Knows What He Wants
Bratva Bear Shifters
Lairds & Ladies
Russian Underworld
Newsletter
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2019 by Flora Ferrari.
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers.
A MAN WHO KNOWS WHAT HE WANTS
Book 1: Baby Lust
Book 2: Veteran
Book 3: Built
Book 4: Bambino
Book 5: Rescued
Book 6: Leader
Book 7: Professor
Book 8: Burned
Book 9: Worldly
Book 10: Pistol
Book 11: Policed
Book 12: Driven
Book 13: Lucky 13
Book 14: Lumberjacked
Book 15: Protector
Book 16: Carpenter
Book 17: Italian Stallion
Book 18: Gardener
Book 19: Budapest Billionaire’s Virgin
Book 20: Billionaire’s Babysitter
Book 21: Cocky CFO
Book 22: Fireman’s Filthy 4th
Book 23: Mechanic
Book 24: SEAL’s Secret
Book 25: Police, Pooch, and Smooch
Book 26: Fireman’s Fake Fiancée
Book 27: Billionaire’s Virgin Ballerina
Book 28: Bitcoin Billionaire’s Babysitter
Book 29: Veterans Day Daddy
Book 30: Cowboy’s Christmas Carol
Book 31: Police Officer’s Princess
Book 32: Statham
Book 33: Bodyguard
Book 34: Greek God
Book 35: Billionaire Single Dad's Babysitter
Book 36: Mountain Man
Book 37: SEAL’s Justice
Book 38: Royal Romance
Book 39: Doctor Mountain Man’s Special Delivery
Book 40: Crocodile Dan D
Book 41: Mountain Man’s Secret Baby
Book 42: Doctor Bad Boy’s Secret Baby
Book 43: Cop’s Babysitter
Book 44: Nanny for the Cop Next Door
Book 45: Small Town SEAL’s Saving Grace
Book 46: Cop’s Fake Fiancée
Book 47: Billionaire’s Nanny
Book 48: Cowboy’s Babysitter
Book 49: Steamy
Book 50: Brother’s Best Friend
Book 51: Possessive Professor
Book 52: Firefighter’s Babysitter
Book 53: Soldier’s Secret Baby
Book 54: Ward’s Independence Day
Book 55: Doctor Next Door
Book 56: Possessive Policeman
Book 57: Coached by the MMA Fighter
Book 58: Boss’s Babysitter
Book 59: Virgin in New York
Book 60: Rock Star’s Baby
Book 61: Possessive Protector
Book 62: Possessive Australian
Book 63: Best Friend’s Brother
Book 64: Possessive Cowboy
Book 65: Summer Romanced
Book 66: Possessive Prince
Book 67: Lovers’s Enemy
Book 68: Cop’s Best Friend
Book 69: Possessive Firefighter
Book 70: Football Next Door
Book 71: Doctor December
Book 72: Possessive Canadian
Book 73: Blue Collar Billionaire
Book 74: Possessive K-9 Cop
Book 75: Possessive Brazilian
Book 76: Hockey Obsession
Book 77: Possessive Boston Irish American MMA Fighter
Book 78: Halloween Next Door
Book 79: Possessive Russian
Book 80: Baseball Mine
Book 81: Cop’s Caribbean Captive
Book 82: Instalove Island
Book 83: Dad’s Best Friend
Book 84: Thanksgiving with Dad’s Boss
Book 85: Possessive Italian Neighbor
Book 86: Possessive Portuguese
Book 87: Possessive Christmas Cop
Book 88: Russian’s Obsession
Book 89: Possessive Doctor’s Christmas
Book 90: Possessive Parisian Pilot
Book 91: U.K. Boxing Day
Book 92: Jealous Russian Stalker
Book 93: Italian Mountain Man
Book 94: Aggressive Russian
Book 95: Possessive Valentine
Book 96: Possessive Hunter
Book 97: Dad’s Russian Mafia Friend
Book 98: Russian Teacher
Book 99: Australian Obsession
Book 100: Russian Next Door
Book 101: Dad’s Irish Friend
Book 102: Nanny for the Russian Mafia
Book 103: Best Friend’s Dad
Book 104: Basketball Babymaker
Book 105: Possessive Veterinarian
Book 106: Brother’s Fireman Friend
Book 107: Brother’s Canadian Cowboy Friend
Book 108: Summer Vacation with Dad’s Best Friend
Book 109: Dad’s Italian Mafia Friend
Book 110: Dad’s Irish Mafia Friend
Book 111: Dad’s Football Friend
Book 112: Possessing His Dancing Queen
Book 113: Brother’s Cop Friend
Book 114: Halloween With Dad’s Best Friend
Book 115: Claimed By Her Boss
Book 116: Possessive Rider
Book 117: Dad’s Ex-Biker Buddy
Book 118: Possessive Undercover Cop
Book 119: Falling For Her Boss
Book 120: Claiming His Fashionista
Book 121: More Than Dad’s Best Friend
Book 122: Th
anksgiving With Dad’s Best Friend
Book 123: Bossy Italian
BRATVA BEAR SHIFTERS
Book 1: Dad’s Russian Mafia Bear Best Friend
Book 2: Babysitter For Dad’s Russian Mafia Bear Friend
LAIRDS & LADIES
Book 1: Possessive Highlander
RUSSIAN UNDERWORLD
Book 1: Brooklyn Bratva
Book 2: British Bratva
BRITISH BRATVA
Maxim
Staking out the London journalist who's set on exposing the Bratva's money launderer, my mission is to stop him in his tracks. But it's the man's stepdaughter who stops me in mine. The younger woman I fall in love with from a distance is everything I ever wanted and when I find out he's been hurting her, there's nothing I won't do to make her mine.
Elizabeth
All I wanted was to find a way to tear down my stepfather's reputation and make a life of my own on the other side, but when a mysterious Russian keeps turning up to save the day, I have to make a choice between the plans I made and the future I never thought I'd have.
Will I risk everything I thought I ever wanted to give myself body, soul and all of my heart to an older man? Would I join the Russian Mafia to be with him forever?
*British Bratva is an insta-everything standalone instalove romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger.
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CHAPTER 1
Maxim
From the moment I opened the encrypted email from the account I used to communicate with my Russian brethren back in Moscow, the reason I wanted Pierce Sutherland dead changed.
In the dark of the supposedly empty apartment I was camped out in, the screen glowed, backlighting the Cyrillic title of the file I decompressed.
Over fifty JPEGs spooled out, and I clicked through them. The majority showed me dark, determined eyes and perfectly fine features, looking out with a grim stoicism that a young woman her age should never have known.
Her name was Elizabeth Harrington and I'd been obsessed with her from the moment I laid eyes on her through the scope of my rifle from the apartment opposite the Chelsea home she shared with her stepfather. My intended target.
It wasn't her face I was focused on. Each image showed her baring skin I dreamed of seeing someday for myself up close, without the barrier of a lens, but I never wanted to see it like this. In some images the bruises made pebbled patterns along her ribs. Other pictures, I could make out the imprint of an open hand, or the fingers of his fist.
I heard a growl, before I realised the sound had come from my throat.
I already knew the arsehole treated his stepdaughter worse than I'd treat a dog, but the photographs Valentin Rozhkov, my handler and second in command to the current Bratva Autoritat, Yakov Timoshenko, had just sent through were worse than I'd expected.
In that moment, I couldn't have given fewer fucks about why the Russian President wanted him neutralised, or about the future funds of our organisation that his investigation had hanging in the balance. Pierce Sutherland was going to look me in the eyes and regret every fly he'd ever swatted, every spider he'd ever crushed. And then I was going to carve him up for touching her and relish every scream.
"Our hacker pulled them from her computer, Maxim. I think you have what you need to approach her now."
The clipped Russian accent came clearly through the speaker without a grain of interference, despite the distance between Moscow and London. Unlike Timoshenko, Valentin understood the importance of investing in good kit. He also knew me well enough to know I wasn't going to let what this man had been doing pass.
"I'm going to kill him with my bare hands. I'm going to rip his head off, and feed his bloody body to the pigs."
"I thought you might react that way. Focus. Please. I won't ask again. We need his investigation taken apart. Nothing to be published. After that, do as you please. We will need him neutralised I don't care how that happens."
"When I'm done with him, neutralised won't be the word."
"Don't get sloppy, Maxim. No mistakes."
"Maxim Toropov doesn't make mistakes. Goodnight Valentin. I have a dinner to go to."
I didn't shock easily. I'd been doing wet work for years, straight out of the army after school. I'd honed my killing skills on the battlefield, and when I came back from the army, it was an easy step to tumble into business with some very serious men. I'd seen and done things that would stain my soul black for the rest of eternity. But Sutherland shocked me.
It took a special kind of bastard to lay a hand on a woman the way he did, for no other reason than his own diminished ego trying for an easy boost. All my kills were necessary, one way or the other, for the good of the Bratva. The world we lived in came with those kind of mortal checks and balances, and I was playing the reaper. It was just a job, but I had no doubt I felt the impact of what I did a thousand times more than Pierce Sutherland.
The contract on Sutherland should have been just another job. It was. Until it wasn't.
With the line to Valentin dead, I went over the files again.
These pictures changed it all. Stretching back years, they showed Elizabeth's progression from girl to woman, along with every bruise she had suffered along the way and in each image her face reflected in the long bedroom mirror I'd watch her stand in front of day after day, was a mask of stony defiance. I wanted to crush the bastard. Rip him limb from limb.
Over the past three weeks, I'd seen her take these pictures after he cornered her. Up in her room at the top of the house, she'd take out the camera and the laptop she kept hidden, stashed under the floorboards. Now I knew she documented everything he did, each photograph was date stamped and she made short, factual notes that I didn't want to read.
Tuesday, 9:30pm. Drunk. Backhand.
It had looked like her escape plan. Something recent. I never dreamt she'd been doing it for years.
In the three weeks I'd been watching the house, I never saw her cry. I'd see her go up to her bedroom after he'd spewed fury into her face, and stand in front of the mirror and just breathe until her shoulders dropped back down. None of it touched her. The woman had so much self control she awed me. I'd never seen her raise her voice at him once, but when she got up to her room she'd hang a punching bag in the corner and go at it until her knuckles were raw, her t-shirt stuck to her back and her legs too shaky to keep her on her feet.
I knew that way of keeping demons at bay all too personally. She was strong and capable, why hadn't she left? Why endure all this? I couldn't figure it out.
Watching her, even from the distance I had to maintain, I saw a woman who might have a chance of understanding who I was in a way nobody else ever had. I'd given up on thinking there would be a woman who'd align herself with the instability and violence that was my day to day. I told myself a woman was a weakness waiting to be exploited, but I wanted Elizabeth Harrington in ways I hadn't wanted anyone for years.
She was eighteen and vital, against all odds, and I was going to show her what it was like to be protected by a real man. With me in her corner, she'd find out what it was like to know no one was ever going to touch her again, unless she wanted them to. Everything that had led me to this point had been to get me here, to her. And I wasn't going to let her down.
Pierce Sutherland had to die for all he'd done, and I was going to be the one to end his life and set her free
Elizabeth
Cassie folded her arms across her chest as she leaned against the wall around the side of the hotel bar we both worked in, slumping against it with a heavy sigh. She looked old in the dim streetlight. Tired and worn out. I could see the spider web of lines branching out from the corners of her eyes. But she still had a smile for me.
"Thought that last guy was going to flood the bar with all the drooling he was doi
ng over you. This is why I button my shirt all the way up, kid."
I rolled my eyes, watching her light up a cigarette. She was old school. One of the last remaining refusers to vape. "Yeah, yeah."
It didn't bother me who looked. Maybe it should have. Maybe I'd have cared more if I didn't have other things to worry about. But it was just my body. That was a mantra I'd learned pretty well.
"You're attractive, Elizabeth. They're going to look if you give them something to look at."
"Maybe I don't care."
Sometimes, I thought it would be amazing to have some gorgeous guy with a perfect smile touch me and kiss me, and treat me like I was just another pretty girl. That was the part of me that slipped my top button and made sure my shirt fit right, the part of me that thought it would be nice to have a little fun, like all the rest of my classmates.
But most of the time I didn't think that at all. I thought about my stepdad, because the men here were closer to him in their fancy suits with their Pinot Noir and their Cabernet Sauvignon than any idea of someone who was going to come and whisk me away. At the gym I went to, they were all tough guys who didn't know what to make of me in my baggy clothes and standoffish attitude. There weren't any boys at school. And I’d nearly broken the hand of the last customer who decided it was okay to grab me.
Cassie was the only reason I didn't get fired on the spot.
She'd been good to me since I tried to con her into believing I was old enough to serve alcohol when I walked in trying to get a job with a cringe-worthy fake ID and the idiocy of fifteen year olds all over the world.
I think she saw the desperation in my eyes when no one else did, because I can’t think of another reason why she would have humoured me and my cut-glass accent and juvenile snark enough to give me a job in the back washing glasses.
A year on, she never replaced me with anyone else to stack the dishwasher when I graduated to bar work for real, and two years after that, I was still here. I owed her so much more than she could ever have known.
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