Bratva Vows Complete Box Set: A Dark Mafia Romance

by SR Jones

  “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Justina says with pride.

  “I can’t believe you own this and the place in the city. You must have about twenty million pounds worth of property.” Violet’s eyes are so wide now they are comical.

  I laugh. “No, I don’t own the place in town. I only rent it, long-term lease, unfurnished. This is my home. And this is not worth more than four million, tops, even now.”

  “But … it’s … it’s a stately home!” She sounds outraged. “Some apartments sell for more than that in London.”

  “London is stupid though; the property market there is out of control.” I shake my head. “This is Yorkshire, totally different. And this isn’t a stately home. It’s a manor house. It dates to around 1640. It has about ten acres of land, and to put it into perspective, little one, the big, stately homes often have tens of thousands of acres. So, yes, it is grand, but it isn’t a stately home of the kind you see in the movies.”

  “It sure looks like one to me,” she says. “How many bedrooms does it have?”

  “Ten bedrooms; this entrance hall, a great hall, a snug, which is where we spend a lot of our time,” Justina says, replying for me. “A library, a dining hall, and the kitchen are the other rooms down here. Up on the next floor are eight bedrooms and three bathrooms. On the top floor there are two more bedrooms, another bath, a gym, a sauna, and another living room.”

  Violet’s mouth falls open. “Wow. I’m kind of speechless.”

  “Shall I show you to the room you’ll be staying in?” Justina asks her.

  Violet nods, and they set off up the stairs. I watch them walk, Justina with her sexy hip swing, Violet not overtly sexy at all. But it’s Violet who I want; Violet who, for some reason, makes my blood sing in a way a woman hasn’t in ages. I don’t know if it’s purely her innocent but sensual looks, or if her childlike wonder at things has somehow wormed its way into my cold heart.

  There’s something refreshing about her, and if I’m being honest, I noticed her from the start when she first began working in the restaurant. It disconcerts me that Allyov picked up on it. The way I’d watch her scurrying about, carrying plates, her hair tied back tight, those greasy tendrils escaping around her face. About as unflattering an outfit as she could get away with draped over her petite frame, and despite all of it, I still noticed her. Liked the way the low lights of the dining room would catch on her cheekbones or highlight her pale lips.

  She’s a rare beauty, a delicate beauty, and something about that makes me want to take a taste of her. She’s got a strange aloofness about her, as if she’s above rare mortals. She doesn’t strike me as a snob, from our limited interaction, but something about her sets her apart from others. She seems to spend a lot of time in her head, her own world, and so do I.

  What would probably have been nothing more than a flicker of attraction, an interest, has become so much more ever since the moment she landed at my feet. For some sick reason, being given her has made a part of me think she’s mine now. Holding her trembling body in my arms had every dark instinct I possess roaring to the surface.

  I want her, want to take her, but I also want to keep living by my code. She’s a temptation I don’t really have time for either. Not with what I have planned in the coming months. Little Violet is a distraction I don’t need, and perhaps this was Allyov’s game all along.

  The day is warm, and as I go out to the car to haul the bags in, Justina pushes past me, heading for the vehicle herself. She grabs her bag and gives me a wink.

  “It’s such a gorgeous day. I’m going to take Violet for a swim.”

  I give her a nod and haul the rest of the luggage inside.

  Once the bags are all stacked in the entrance, I contemplate whether to investigate Violet now or leave it a day or two. I want to find out who she is, but I know there’s only so far I can get with that myself. I need someone who is an expert hacker to dig into my captive’s past. I need someone like Reece, ex-Special Forces like myself, but British. He also did a few off-the-books jobs for the deep state and has worked intelligence jobs as well as military. He can hack into almost anything, and I need him to research Violet. Problem is, I’m too paranoid right now to call him. I don’t know who Allyov is aware of in my circle of contacts, who he might have bugged or be watching.

  It’s doubtful he has any eyes or ears on Reece. My friend would know easily enough if he was being spied on, I am sure of it, but I can’t shake the paranoia. No, I need to speak to Reece in person about this.

  I head into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and decide I’ll go to my study after and try to find what I can about the mysterious Violet. As I come out of the kitchen five minutes later, steaming mug of tea in hand, I stop dead as Justina trots down the stairs, followed by Violet.

  Justina is wearing a small black bikini. The bottom half might as well be dental floss for all it does to cover her as she reaches the bottom of the stairs and walks away from me, ass cheeks jiggling. But it’s not Justina and her barely-there bikini that has me paused in my tracks, but Violet.

  She’s wearing a swimsuit not a bikini. It’s not particularly revealing, but it shows more of her figure than I’ve seen so far, and she’s incredible.

  The swimsuit is cut high on her legs, revealing lean thighs and long limbs. She might not be tall, but her limbs are elegant and graceful. Her hips are slim but curvy, and the swimsuit is low cut, dipping down toward her navel in a narrow V, showing a ton of cleavage.

  I can’t tear my eyes away as she walks down the stairs, her whole demeanor screaming self-consciousness.

  “We’re going for a swim,” Justina says with a wink.

  I’m starting to think she’s trying to make me lust after Violet, which makes no sense.

  “Hey, one minute,” I tell her, taking her arm.

  Violet reaches the bottom of the stairs, and I point toward the kitchen. “Pool’s out that way, sweetheart. Through the kitchen and out the back door. Oh, and don’t try to run; the whole perimeter is surrounded by massive fences and cameras. I’ll only keep Justina a couple of seconds.”

  Her self-consciousness dissipates at my words, and she scowls at me with something akin to hate. Good. Let her hate me; it’s better all-round if she does.

  Once she goes through the kitchen door and closes it, I face Justina. “Why the hell did you tell Allyov’s wife I like them young and innocent? Those words are part of the reason she’s here.”

  Her face falls. “Oh, shit, I did not mean for that to happen. Donna was going on about how you never hook up with any of the girls from the clubs. She said she knew you and I weren’t an item, she could tell, and she kept pushing me for what gives. I didn’t want her to be spreading rumors about you that’d get you into shit, but I also knew if I told her you had a couple of fuck buddies, then there might be people sniffing around them, trying to get information on you. So, I lied.”

  She looks close to tears. “I thought this would be the safest thing to say. They don’t run girls, and none of the women at the clubs can be called innocent. I thought they’d leave it alone. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, I only wanted to know why. Watch what you say in front of Donna. I don’t trust the woman; she’s a snake. She knows all about Allyov’s flings and doesn’t give a shit because all she cares about is the money coming in.”

  She gives me a quick hug.

  “Go swim,” I tell her. “And keep an eye on our guest.”

  Justina nods and heads out to the pool.

  If having Violet here is hard for me, it’s got to be ten times as difficult for Justina with her past.

  I’ve got the beginnings of a tension headache, and all I want to do is fight or fuck. I can’t do either, so I head to my study and fire up my MacBook. Let’s see what I can find on little Miss Violet.

  As the computer fires up, I take a note of paper out of the locked drawer, turning the old-fashioned key as I do. Then I open the small safe sat in the drawer. I put in the code and p
ull the lid open. Inside is a cross, like the one I wear. I took it from around the neck of my sister as she lay dead in my arms. Next to the cross is a list. It isn’t a list anyone has seen. Not Justina, nor Allyov. No one. It’s my own private hit list. Two of the names on there are already crossed out, and I rub my thumb over those now, gaining satisfaction from the harsh lines through the lettering. The other three are still out there. Still haunting me. Two in particular make my jaw clench. Kyrylo Voloshin and Petro Babiek.

  Fuck. The urge to hurt something builds, so I shove the list away, back in its hiding place, and close and lock the drawer. I need to do something productive, so I begin my research into Violet.

  Two hours later and I’m puzzled. She’s got all the proper papers, but her educational notes start late. There aren’t any notes for her mother. Her birth certificate shows her father and a mother who died in childbirth, but when I tried to investigate the mother, I drew a blank.

  I’ve got about as far as my skills can get me. I need help, and I go to my phone to call Reece and arrange a meet, but I’m pulled up short when I see a text from his colleague, Liam.

  Liam and Reece both served in the Special Forces together, and Liam owes me as I saved his woman from going down for the murder of her abusive ex-husband. So far, I haven’t collected as I haven’t needed anything he can provide. One day, I will.

  Wondering why the hell he’s contacting me, I open the text.

  Reece is in hospital. Was safeguarding a client and got injured in the line of duty. He’s going to be okay, but his injuries are bad enough to require a stay in hospital. He is in the Royal General Infirmary.

  No chit chat, as expected.

  A strange feeling worms its way into my gut, almost anxiety.

  I’m used to people I work with being injured and hurt, it’s part of the territory, but Reece always struck me as invincible. He’s huge. A mountain of a man with a big smile for everyone and a steady stream of bullshit. I know deep down, he’s not the happy-go-lucky man he pretends to be.

  I know because I saw him kill a young woman with his bare hands the day he saved my life, and I witnessed the horror on his face when he laid her limp body on the ground. He had no choice; it was kill or be killed as she was part of the cell we were taken by. But it haunts him. I know because after he killed the young woman, we both killed the rest of her cell and accidentally shot a teenage boy as part of that.

  I know he’s tormented because I carry the same guilt he does. The lives I’ve taken as a mercenary and hitman don’t play on my mind the way those lives taken in the heat of combat do. There has been no collateral damage in the work I have done for the mob. No one innocent accidentally caught in my crosshairs as can happen in the fog of war.

  Reece and me? We share the same ghosts. Because of that if he’s injured, I need to go see him, make sure the fucker will recover. I also want to ask him a favor. A big one.

  Soon, I will hopefully find out exactly who the delectable Violet is. All I need to do is keep my cock under control and not make this any more complex than it already is.

  Chapter 6

  Violet

  It’s a warm day. We’re having a bit of an early heatwave, and sitting by the pool is heavenly.

  Dad and I were not well off; he didn’t own any property here in England. When he died, he left me a few thousand pounds that he scrimped and saved from his job at the bakery. It helped me keep renting our home, but eventually I lost the house and had to move. This level of opulence is amazing. It’s seductive too, until I remember where Andrius got his money … how he earned it.

  My poor father did nothing but be an honest man trying to bring his daughter up in a strange country, and he lived as poor as a church mouse, whereas someone as corrupt as Andrius gets all this. The world isn’t fair, and the thought makes my dislike of him roar to life, which is a welcome change from the flashes of desire I keep feeling for him. I don’t want to desire him. I should hate him, and despite his assurances he won’t hurt me, he isn’t a good man.

  “Hey, Justina.” Speak of the devil, Andrius comes out to the pool area.

  “Yes, my lord,” Justina replies lazily.

  “I got a text; Reece has been hurt.”

  She sits up. “What? Badly?”

  “Badly enough to be in the hospital. I’ll go see him at some point in the next couple of days.”

  My heart leaps at the thought. It might give me a chance to escape!

  “Crap,” Justina mutters as Andrius goes inside.

  “Who is Reece?” I ask.

  “He works as a private hire bodyguard, amongst other things. He and three other men from British Special Forces set up a company helping protect people. Andrius has done them a couple of favors, I think. He and Reece go back a long way.”

  He knows a group of men who were British Special Forces and now do protection work? That doesn’t tie in with his mob work. I frown, the man is such a puzzle.

  She gives a small laugh. “I think Reece might be one of the only other people Andrius truly cares for. Other than me, I mean.”

  “You and him … you never…” I trail off. I know what was said in the car, but I still don’t understand their relationship.

  She shudders. “God no.”

  “But he’s very handsome.”

  “He could be the most handsome man in the world, and he wouldn’t do it for me. I don’t do men.” She takes a sip of her drink, something cold and fresh she made for me also.

  “You, baby girl, are far more up my alley, as you Brits say, than our dear Andrius. But I love him.” She turns to me, her eyes serious. “I love him more than anyone else in this world, and I will do anything to protect him. He saved me.”

  Her words let me know in no uncertain terms she won’t be helping me escape anytime soon. They also make me burn with curiosity. “Saved you how?”

  “Okay, I’m going to tell you as much as I can. Don’t ask more questions because then I won’t be able to tell you, and it will make things awkward. I don’t want them awkward because I’m hoping we can be something akin to friends.”

  I don’t say anything, but I’m starting to think she’s as fucked in the head as Andrius. If she won’t help me, she’s complicit in keeping me here, and she wants us to be friends?

  “Back in 2012, I was in a horrible situation. I’d been taken by very, I mean very, bad men and forced to work in a brothel in Germany. They drugged me, kept me compliant with regular beatings. I sometimes had to service ten or more men a day. For some reason, shortly after, they moved me again, back to Russia. This was worse. No condoms, and a stream of wealthy, depraved international business men wanting to use us girls for all sorts of fucking insanity. I had one guy make me pee in a cup and drink it. My own pee.”

  She says this matter of fact, as if she’s reciting a grocery list, and I think it’s maybe the only way she can deal with any retelling of it.

  “One day, I’m in the lounge area, sat around, waiting, and this man comes in. Well, three men, but I only notice one. I notice him because I know straightaway he’s a killer.” She laughs bitterly. “The other two are not good either, mob, I thought, but the big one was the one I tagged as a killer. He had scratches on his forearms, cuts on his knuckles, and these cold grey eyes. He sat and ordered a drink, and the other two men picked a girl each. The stone-cold man did not look at us. He simply sipped his drink while the other two men went upstairs. The madam asked him if he wanted a girl, and he shook his head. Then he glanced around the room; to this day I don’t know what made him do that. Fate maybe?”

  It’s as if she’s asking me, so I nod, needing her to go on with her story. Desperate to know what happened to her when I shouldn’t care one bit.

  “He glanced at the girls, and his eyes landed on me. He stopped and stared at me, and at first there was shock, then almost, I would say if not crazy, a look of love and then rage. Such pure, murderous rage. I shrank back in my seat. I wanted to be invisible, but he stood and w
alked to me.” She visibly gathers herself, wraps her arms around her waist, and carries on.

  “He turned to the madam and said he’d changed his mind. He’d take an hour with me. Pulling me up, this thug hauled me out of the room and up the stairs to the room he’d been given the key for. He threw me inside, and then turned to me and started asking all sorts of questions. He asked if I was there of my free will.”

  “Oh, God, what did you say?” It seems an insulting question to me.

  “I wanted to spit in his face, claw his eyes out, but the drugs made me so lethargic, and a sense of self-preservation I didn’t know I still had kicked in. I told him, no, of course not. I was taken. He asked if I had papers, a passport. Again, I said no. By this point, I was seriously panicking. Was this man thinking of buying me? For what? At least at the brothel, as vile as it was, Madam did protect us from physical violence of the extreme kind.”

  “God, Justina.” I don’t have any other words, and she gives me a grim smile.

  “It’s okay, Violet.”

  It really isn’t, but she is not done with her story, so I focus on what she’s telling me.

  “I didn’t look like this, you must understand. I was weak, thin, dirty half the time. We had to wash … down there, you know, but we only got to have a full shower once every three days. I have a shower every day now, sometimes twice.” She smiles at me then, and I see her spirit, the fight that got her through such a horrific ordeal.

  “This terrifying man looks at me and said, ‘you remind me of someone’.” She gives a harsh laugh and shakes her head. “Those words, I sighed to myself and waited for it. An ex he hated and wanted to use me to slake his hate on? His daughter, a girl he couldn’t touch but wanted to? You wouldn’t believe it, but I had men say things like this to me. Instead, he lifted my chin so gently with his big hand, with the scary beaten-up knuckles. He looked at me, shook his head, and said, ‘I am going to get you out of here’.”

  “And?” She’s stopped talking, and I am rapt, needing to know what happened next.