The King: Bratva Blood: (A dark mafia romance)

by SR Jones

  “Oh, so now you care,” she says with a snarl. “Now the great Konstantin gives a shit. Where were you when I was trying to get ahold of you to tell you, huh?”

  “We were over; why would I take your call?”

  “Then you can’t blame me for telling you the way I did. I had to let you know.”

  I sigh and glance at my watch. “Listen, you need to move into my house.”

  She stares at me and laughs. “What?”

  “You’re pregnant, with my child, and I’m going to take the best care of you.”

  She takes a big swig of her wine, and I take the glass from her and place it out of reach. I call the bartender over and order a mineral water. He places the glass in front of me, and I slide it to Liza.

  With narrowed eyes, she takes a sip. “Listen, I don’t want to live with you, okay? You’re far too controlling. I don’t want that; we would never work. I just need some financial support, until I figure things out.”

  “You can figure things out at my place. Don’t worry,” I say as I hold my hands up. “No strings. I’m not interested in you in that way. But you’re the mother of my child, and I will do right by you both.”

  She laughs, and it’s got a nervous edge to it. “K, really, you don’t need to do this. Just some money will be fine. I can’t model looking like this, and I’m not getting freebies anymore. We can work something out once the baby is born so you have proper visitation rights, but I need my own space. I only need a loan, to pay off some debt, clear the mortgage, set me and the baby up right. Of course you’ll have paternity rights, but for now, I need some financial help. You’ve got more money than you know what to do with.” She leans in close and lowers her voice to a whisper. “You’ve got billions, K. I just want a couple million. It’s not a lot for the mother of your child.”

  “Call me K one more time and I’ll slap you. Now listen carefully because you don’t seem to be taking in what I’m telling you. You’re staying with me,” I say. “That’s it. Come on.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  “No, I’ll come tomorrow.”

  “Now,” I growl, and she jumps as if I’ve fired a gun.

  She looks like shit, and I don’t trust her to take care of herself or the baby properly. We hit the sidewalk, and I put my hand on the base of her spine, steering her toward my car, idling a few feet away. I have a driver tonight, and so I climb in the back after Liza.

  Once we are underway, I take out my phone and send a text to a fixer I have here in London. I tell him to organize three men to patrol the property and a housekeeper who can cook. I want them all in place in the morning.

  Normally, I do shit for myself. I cook for myself and Michael, and clean up after him, which is a lot because he still makes a mess like he did as a teenager. I have a man who lives with us, and has worked for me for years. A sort of unofficial butler, called Derek. He organizes the house, and for a while spent a lot of time looking out for Michael, which is the real reason Yulia and I hired him in the first place. Then there’s a cleaner who comes in four times a week, and a gardener, plus someone to clean the pools, inside and out, and that’s it. The rest of it, I do for myself. Now, though, I need to make sure Liza is eating properly when I’m not there, and that she’s safe. To be honest, the men are more to keep her in than anyone else out. I don’t understand what’s going on with her, and I don’t trust her.

  We arrive at the house, and Michael opens the door before I can get the key in or enter the code.

  “Just on my way out,” he says. Then he stops and stares at Liza.

  “I know you,” he says, mouth open like a damn fish.

  She giggles and smiles. “A lot of people do. I’m a model,” she says.

  “Instagram model,” I correct, disparagingly.

  I’m being a dick because she’s actually very famous and successful at what she does. Or, she was.

  “You’re amazing, my friends are gonna be sick jealous I met you.” Michael laughs, and then his eyes track down to Liza’s belly and widen as he looks from her to me and back again.

  Yeah, there’s no fooling this kid. Damn it.

  “Well, I’ll see you later, Dad,” he says with a hard glare my way.

  When he’s gone, Liza crosses her arms over her chest and narrows her eyes. “I don’t have anything here. This is ridiculous, Konstantin. What the hell? Let me go home.”

  “No. You’re staying, and you’ll be comfortable. I’ve hired a housekeeper who will cater to your every whim, so long as it is healthy. And tomorrow, I have some men joining my team who will bring you whatever you want from home.”

  “I don’t like this, I feel like a prisoner.”

  “Welcome to my world,” I snap. “Now, do you want something to eat?”

  “No, I do not.”

  “A bath?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, let me show you to your room.”

  I lead her upstairs. I won’t be sleeping tonight, and tomorrow Liza will have a trio of men on her making sure she doesn’t try to leave. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s regularly drinking too much, or worse, doing drugs. Seeing under the bright glare of the hallway light, she looks dreadful. Dark circles lurk under her eyes, and her skin looks chalky.

  If she’s got my kid addicted to that shit before he or she is born, I’ll fucking throttle the life out of her with my bare hands once she’s given birth.

  She sighs and yawns, and I notice the cracks at the corner of her mouth.

  Yep, Liza hasn’t been taking care of herself at all. She’s going to start because she’s carrying my baby.

  After showing her to her room, I retire to my own space, but I keep the door ajar so I can hear her moving about. Normally I’d take a shower with my favorite rock music blaring out of the speakers in my attached bath, but not tonight. Not that she can get out. I’ve set the alarm, and she doesn’t know the code, but it pays to be careful. I fire a text off to Michael telling him we’ll talk later, but not to let Liza have the alarm code.

  Then I lie back on my bed and stare at the ceiling.

  Blonde hair like the sun, green eyes, warm and full of life, and freckles all dance through my mind, and I let them because this is the last time I will indulge this way.

  Cassie and I are done, and starting tomorrow I’ll treat her as nothing more than an employee. One I’m about to make do something highly illegal.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cassie

  The next few days pass in a blur of anxiety and anticipation. I’m waiting to find out what this strange role is that Konstantin wants me for. I’m also waiting for him to make a move and do something. As the days pass, though, I’m convinced he isn’t going to.

  I’ve seen him around, and he doesn’t even glance my way. I know he’s a bastard, and cold, but I don’t think he’s a games player, so what’s going on?

  What if he’s decided that we ought to keep this strictly professional? I’ll find that difficult because the last thing he makes me feel is professional.

  He makes me feel alive. One glance his way and butterflies set flight in my stomach. If I hear his voice, my heart skips. I’ve got it bad. So bad. He, however… He seems to have changed his mind.

  By the time Friday rolls around, I’m outright depressed. I have no plans for the weekend, and last night Grandma called and told me Grandpa’s treatment is to be stopped. There is an experimental drug they can use, but it’s only available privately, and we don’t have the money. I’ve set up a GoFundMe page, but it’s unlikely I can raise a hundred thousand pounds in time.

  Some days it feels as if everything goes wrong.

  Just before lunch, I sense someone behind me and turn to see Konstantin standing, looking down at me. “Can I have a word please, Cassie,” he says.

  My stomach flip-flops. I nod and push back my chair, following him.

  He takes me to a small room on the fifth floor.

  It’s not as grand as I imagine he’d
want.

  “Is this your office?” I ask in surprise.

  “It is while I’m here,” he says. “My main office is at my own building, near your old workplace, Rigattos,”

  Ah, the coffee shop. Some days I miss it awfully. Today is one of those days. I hark back for a moment to when times were simpler.

  “How are things?” Konstantin asks.

  I shrug. “Fine … sir.” I add the sir with what I hope is a cheeky smile.

  “Konstantin is the appropriate name, Cassie.” He is serious, deadly so.

  “But... I don’t understand. You said to call you … you wanted…” I trail off, mortified that I’m practically begging.

  “I know what I said, but circumstances have changed.”

  “What circumstances? What could have changed?”

  “Cassie,” he says with a sharp edge to his voice. “Everything has changed. I’m sorry, okay, but us … this … it can’t happen.”

  Oh my god, he’s such a dick. He changes his mind like the breeze. I hate that I feel tears pricking at my eyes, again. It seems this man is tailor-made to cause me to cry.

  I swallow down my upset and put on what I hope is a professional expression.

  “Of course. As you wish, Mr. Silvanov.”

  “Konstantin,” he says wearily.

  “Mr. Silvanov,” I answer.

  He pinches the bridge of his nose but doesn’t say anything.

  “I have a proposition for you.”

  “I thought you said we couldn’t do that now,” I snipe.

  “A business proposition.”

  I frown. What could he have to offer me?

  “I need you to do something for me, something off the book and seriously hush-hush.”

  Oh. My. God. Is he serious? First, he comes onto me, then he dumps me before we’ve even begun, and then this?

  “I think you’ll find it interesting, maybe even a little exciting. I know you, Cassie. Deep down you want some excitement, don’t you?”

  “You know nothing about me,” I tell him.

  “Ah, but I do, Cassie who loves to read and wants a dog. I know plenty. But here’s the thing. I observe people, and I read between the lines. I also know that you occasionally like to toe the line of … legality, or morality. Call it what you will. What I’m asking of you is no more than you did at university. What I’m offering is enough money to see you through the next few years, whatever you do.”

  Normally, I’d tell him to go screw himself. Two things stop me. Firstly, he’s right—I do like a bit of excitement and have craved it, deep down, for the longest time. Secondly, money doesn’t normally motivate me, but if it means I can help pay for Grandpa to have the treatment he needs, then I’ll do anything.

  We’re lucky we live in a country with free healthcare, but sometimes there are limits, and some drugs and treatments just aren’t approved for anyone. In those instances, the only choice is to buy those drugs, or pay out of pocket for a surgery. That’s what I need to do for Grandpa. I’ve started to set up a funding page for donations, but this might mean I have enough to pay for him to have the surgery outright.

  “How much money?” I demand.

  His expression flickers for a moment, brows raising and lips parting slightly. I’ve surprised him. Good.

  “I honestly didn’t think you’d care about the money,” he says.

  “Well, there you go, like I say—you don’t know me. Now, how much?”

  He grins, and it’s wolfish and gorgeous, and I want to make him smile like that all the time. “Three payments of fifty-thousand pounds. In three tranches. One when you start. One when you finish, and one six months later so long as you keep your mouth shut.”

  “How about … one hundred and fifty upfront, no tranches?”

  He barks out a laugh. “Yeah, not going to happen, Cassie.”

  “Okay, one hundred upfront, fifty after six months?”

  He shakes his head, still smiling.

  “Fine, then, no. I decline your offer.”

  I’m taking a huge risk, but I need that hundred thousand, and I need it for Grandpa sooner rather than later. I can’t wait six months for it. This way I get what I need immediately. I’ll do a good job, I always do. But I need that money. The remaining fifty thousand is simply a bonus that will help my grandparents pay the rent going forward.

  I walk to the door.

  “Stop.”

  I do, but I don’t turn around. I don’t want him to see my face because my heart is hammering so fast, I’m sure he’ll see the fear in my eyes.

  “Okay, one hundred and fifty thousand. One hundred upfront, fifty after. Cassie, if you fuck up, you owe the money back. If you can’t do what I need—no money. So don’t go spending the first hundred on too many bags and shoes until you’ve finished the job. Six months after, if you’ve kept your mouth shut, you’ll get the rest.”

  I almost laugh at the idea of spending it on bags and shoes. I’ll be spending it on Grandpa. I don’t want him to know that, though. For some reason, I want to keep the real reason secret, now this bastard has crushed my heart. He has given me a lifeline, though, and for that, I’ll be eternally grateful.

  “How dangerous is it? How illegal is it?” I ask, turning to face him finally.

  “Dangerous? Not at all, not if you know how to hack without leaving a trace. I won’t lie to you, the man you’re hacking is dangerous, but so long as you know what you’re doing, you’re in no direct danger yourself.”

  Shit. I don’t know what I’m doing, not to the degree he clearly believes. I was part of a team at uni. I can get in, that bit I’m good at, but the not leaving a trace bit might be above my paygrade. I know enough people online who can advise me, though, and I can’t bear to let this opportunity slip from my hands. It would mean the end of treatment for Grandpa. Despite how much I might want to deny it, part of me thrills at the idea of doing something clandestine with Konstantin, even if it is merely business.

  “I know how to hack and not leave a trace,” I lie. “I take it, this isn’t legal.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “But the person you’re hacking isn’t going to be going to the police anytime if he finds out someone has got into his information.”

  “Fine. I’ll do it. When do I start?”

  “How about Monday?”

  “Okay.” Then I think for a moment. “I’m already working on a big project.”

  “I can easily reassign someone to cover that.”

  “Okay. Will I get a private office? I can hardly hack into someone at my desk; anyone can see.”

  “Yes, you will. I’m going to say you’re working on something super sensitive for me personally, which is true.”

  “Fine. So Monday, you will show me to my lair?” I give an exaggerated evil cackle and then realize I’ve just shown myself up for the dork I am.

  Instead of rolling his eyes the way Tim used to at my antics, Konstantin smiles. And this is yet another new one for me to catalogue. This is almost gentle. I’ve never seen him look remotely gentle. Maybe this is how he could look if he was happy, something I think he’s decidedly not. He’s ruthless ambition, hugely successful, but he doesn’t seem remotely happy. I smile back and shake my head at myself as I leave, closing the door softly behind me.

  The rest of the weekend passes in a daze as I keep having to pinch myself at the fact I’ll soon have a hundred grand! Enough to pay for Grandpa’s treatment. It’s incredible, as if the universe for once smiled on me rather than laughed at me. Come Monday morning, I’m a nervous wreck.

  This could be dangerous. I can’t fuck it up. I spent Sunday night in one of my forums, on the dark web, asking for advice and taking an awful lot of notes. My confidence level is about an eight that I won’t fuck it up.

  Not sure what to do, when I arrive at work, I go to my desk as usual. I’ve got an iced peach tea and a bagel. Breakfast of champions. Settling into my chair, I sip at my tea and then take a bite of my bagel and cream cheese
, but it makes me nauseas. Damn nerves. I sigh and sip at my tea again. You can’t beat iced peach tea.

  My stomach rumbles, but I know I can’t eat. Suzy takes her seat at our quad of desks and shoots me a cheeky grin.

  “Good weekend?” she asks.

  “Yeah, okay; pretty boring,” I say. “You?”

  “I had a blast. Got shitfaced on Saturday night and had a threesome.” She waggles her eyebrows at me. Then leans in close and whispers, “Two guys, babe, and me. The filling in a hot beefcake sandwich.”

  A threesome? Is she serious?

  “Really?” I ask.

  “Yeah, hottest thing I’ve ever done. Oh my God, you have to try it. Two cocks at the same time. It was insane. Hot and a little bit scary, which only added to the thrill, and honestly, I thought I was going to explode from pleasure.”

  “Why scary?” I ask.

  “Two big men and little old me? Could have gone all kinds of wrong, but they were total gents. Filthy, but gents. They never pushed me for anything I wasn’t ready for. Let me lead the whole time. And, after all, a little bit of danger only adds to the frisson, no?”

  Her words immediately make me think of Konstantin. As if she’s read my mind, Suzy looks behind me, and mutters, “Talk about danger and hot sex.”

  I glance around to see Konstantin prowling through the office, like some lion returning to his pride after a hunt. Although, the males don’t hunt, do they? I remember a documentary about that. The females do. They’re the true warriors in the lion world. The males are all for show. They preserve their energy to better grow their mane, or something like that. I ought to look it up, so I know for sure.

  Konstantin’s mane is his build. The way he uses his body intrigues me and always has. I think he’s aware of it, the effect he has. Aware of how intimidating he is, with his height, his muscles, and his extortionate suits that scream wealth and power. Yeah, he uses it to his advantage in the way a beautiful woman uses that to hers. He’s catnip to women, and a triple threat to other men.