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

by SR Jones

  “Hey there, Cassie,” he says with a mocking sing-song tone to his voice that I don’t like. Then he dives into the pool and swims right up to me.

  I’m by the edge of the pool, and he corners me, his arms bracketing me so I can’t move.

  “What do you want?” I demand.

  “I think the better question is, what do you want?” He shoots back. “What’s your game here? Whatever it is, I don’t like it, and I don’t like the way you’ve got K all messed up. He can’t afford a distraction like you.” He speaks slowly, as if at times he’s searching for the words in English.

  This man is the second person to insinuate I’m something more than I am to the man who is holding me here against my will. “Listen,” I say as calmly as I can, because Vasily is scary, and I don’t want to provoke him.

  Konstantin is scary, but I don’t think he’ll do anything to outright harm me. Vasily? I’m not so sure. He would probably quite happily drown me and then go tell Konstantin it was an accident.

  “I’m nothing to Konstantin. I’ve been brought here against my will, as you well know, and need I remind you that his pregnant concubine is here.”

  He busts out laughing. “Concubine. That’s a good one. Means like a slave, no? Or a courtesan. She’s a disgusting creature is what she is, and I do not trust her either. He needs to get a paternity test, but we’re not discussing her.”

  “No, but you’re discussing me, and I don’t like it.”

  We both jump at the deep tones. Vasily moves away from me immediately as Konstantin prowls to the edge of the pool, hunkers down, and trails his fingers in the water.

  “Enjoying your swim?” he asks me.

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Swimsuit fit?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Konstantin looks at Vasily. “I’m getting a paternity test as soon as the baby is born. Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”

  Vasily nods and looks away first as Konstantin holds his gaze.

  “Now, Vasily,” Konstantin says.

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Fuck off. I want a word with Cassie.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Vasily gets out of the pool and grabs his towel, wiping his hair as he leaves.

  Konstantin sits on the edge of the pool and lets his feet dangle in the water. Does he expect me to go up to him?

  I don’t. Instead, I stay where I am and get a good look at his body for the first time. His shoulders are massive, he’s bigger built than Vasily, who is leaner and sinewy. Konstantin’s pecs are huge slabs of muscle. His arms, where they are bunched as his hands grip the side of the pool, are nothing but columns of defined power.

  My God, he’s impressive. Mouth-watering. I don’t think I’ve seen a man with a more powerful build. He’s not like those bodybuilders from the eighties, though. He’s got a head that matches his body, not a tiny head on big shoulders, and his neck is thick, his wrists too.

  His ink is interesting, and the most beautiful is on his arm. On one bicep is a bird of prey in flight with something in its beak. I can’t tell what without going closer, and I’m not going closer.

  “First time you’ve been out of your room in days,” he says casually.

  “I don’t enjoy mixing with the mother of your child,” I snap.

  “You and me both,” he says ruefully. “But if she is the mother of my child, and I will be getting a test, I have to do right by her.”

  “So you’re going to marry her.”

  “Christ, no. I’d rather swallow glass. I don’t know what I’m going to do, Cassie. My life is a fucking mess. A joke. My son is getting married in a few weeks, and I’m not sure he wants to. My ex, a woman I don’t care for at all, is pregnant, and she says it is my child. A woman I do care for has fucked up beyond belief and pressed the starting shot of a war I didn’t want to begin yet. And now, she hates my guts.”

  I don’t deny it because I do hate his guts. I also want him. Still. Despite everything he’s done. I must be a total glutton for punishment. I don’t believe he cares for me for one second, though, because I don’t believe he’s capable of such ordinary emotion.

  “Come here, Cassie.” He lifts a hand and crooks a finger at me.

  I shake my head.

  “Come here,” he repeats.

  “No.”

  “Fine.” He slides into the pool, sleek like an alligator that’s spotted its prey. Silently, he moves through the water to where I’m standing at the edge, and he does the exact same thing Vasily did—he brackets me in.

  This time my heart beats too fast for an entirely different reason. Konstantin is a threat to me, but not the way Vasily is. No, he’s worse. He’s a threat to my heart.

  “Cassie,” he just says my name, only it makes my heart rate spike and my breathing increase.

  He leans in close, nose brushing my neck. “I can hear your heartbeat,” he whispers against my skin.

  “What are you, a superhero? Or a vampire with extra-sensory hearing?” I joke lamely.

  “I wish I were a vampire. I wouldn’t drink your blood, Cassie. I’d steal your sunshine.”

  I hold my breath. Whoa. Sometimes, for such a hard bastard, he says very poetic things.

  “Would you let me? Hhmmm, Cassie? Would you let me take your sunshine and fill myself with it?”

  His nose leaves the crook of my neck, and I raise my eyes slowly to see him staring at me. His gaze lowers, and lowers some more as he looks down my body. One finger traces my collarbone, then dips down between the swell of my breasts, down, down, as it follows the slit in the fabric.

  He raises his gaze, those amazing thick lashes of his slowly lifting to reveal his deep blue eyes.

  We’re both breathing rapidly now, in sync. We breathe together, watching one another. His finger doesn’t move from where it caresses the place where fabric meets skin, right above my belly button.

  I want that finger to trail lower. To touch me where I crave it the most.

  I shouldn’t.

  He’s the last thing I need, but the first thing I want when I wake up. Every morning since I’ve been in this damn house, knowing he’s so near, I’ve awoken sticky between my thighs, needy. Thirsty. Not for water, for him. This man. This beast of a man who I just know will be the most intense encounter of my life, if we ever go there.

  “Konstantin?” It’s Denis. I know his rumbling bass voice by now.

  “Yeah?” Konstantin doesn’t look away from me.

  “Got Damen on the phone. Looks like Popov is planning something very dumb, not to do with us, but good intel. Can’t go into details in front of the lady, but trust me, you want to talk to Damen.”

  “Be there in two minutes.” Still, he doesn’t break eye contact with me.

  Denis closes the door behind him, the sound so loud in the space between Konstantin and me.

  “You’ve caused so much trouble, sunshine.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  He smiles, and it’s almost sad. “I’m kind of not,” he says.

  Slowly, achingly slowly, he drags his finger back up, right between the valley of my breasts, past my collarbone, and up my throat to my jawline, where he traces the bone.

  He’s going to kiss me, I know he is, and I also know that if he does, and even if it’s only half as good as I’ve been imagining, I won’t be okay with it the next time he shuts down on me. He blows hot and cold, and I can’t deal with the cold as it is.

  “You’re going to be a father,” I whisper.

  And there it is. Those shutters. He blinks, and when he looks at me again it’s as if he’s awoken from a dream state and is back in the real world.

  “Yes, I am,” he says, and he moves away, giving me his broad back as he walks to the edge of the pool.

  When he’s gone, I climb out myself, legs like noodles. My God, he does a number on me. I’m not worldly enough to deal with a man like him. Liza is what he needs, someone hard like him. Not soft like marshmallow
, which is the way I am deep inside.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Konstantin

  I go straight to my study and call Damen back.

  “This is getting to be a habit,” I say with a smile in my voice.

  “You won’t believe this. This is a gift from the fucking gods. I swear you owe me so big that I listen in to shit.”

  “What?”

  “Popov is planning on moving against Allyov.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, nothing to do with you or any of it. He’s planning on fucking Allyov over big time.”

  “Why? Because of Andrius?”

  Popov and Andrius have something of a vendetta, but it doesn’t make sense for Popov to move against Allyov to get to Andrius.

  “Doubt it. This is about carving out more of a space for himself. He plans on taking Allyov out of the arms side of things.”

  I think about this. It makes things so much easier. Allyov was the issue, the fly in the ointment, and now? Now, it should be easy to get him onboard with my plans.

  “Doesn’t he know how dangerous that is?”

  Damen sighs. “He’s not sane, though, is he? I don’t think he’s playing with the full deck. He also thinks he’s far smarter than he is. Right now he’s in discussions for a rival group, the Armenians, to simply muscle Allyov out of the picture and make it look as if Popov had nothing to do with it, initially. Then when they’ve done the deed, Popov will shrug, tell Allyov he must work with whoever is in charge, and switch his allegiance before getting rid of Allyov. It’s risky, but Popeye’s never been one to play it safe. No one in their right mind would shoot Andrius in the leg and leave him alive, after all. I found this out from someone within the Armenians. It’s fucking fate, man.”

  There it is again, fate, messing with me. I shiver. I’m not a man who believes in woo, but this is getting ridiculous.

  “This changes things again.” I rub my temple. I’m getting a headache. It’s all too fucking much. This. Cassie. Liza. Michael’s wedding. How much more can the universe throw at me at once.

  “They aren’t planning on doing it for a while, if their communications are, in fact, accurate, and not a smokescreen, which … who knows. If it is correct, it gives you some breathing space. Why don’t you talk to Andrius? He’ll have a handle on how Allyov might react to this latest news, and he can warn Allyov to be extra careful.”

  “Damen, there’s no one more paranoid than Allyov. He always surrounds himself with armed men, guards, and God knows what else. I don’t know how Popov thinks he’ll get to him.”

  “Me either. We still need to let Andrius know, and Allyov via him. Popov is gonna make a move at some point or other. Feel free to discuss with Andrius, and maybe we should all have another meet soon. Take fucking care, man.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  I hang up after wishing him and his well, and sit and think. The Armenians are crazy fucks. They’ll fit in with Popov. If I take him out, I’ll effectively be wrecking their plans as well, making a whole host of new enemies. Ones I really don’t need, but… I can’t let that fucker get away with what he did, or make a move on Allyov. No way. He’s so damn volatile, and I want him out of the picture now more than ever. Not just for personal reasons anymore, but because he’s always going to be a danger to any of us doing business over here.

  Taking out my phone, I dial Vasily. “Come to the study,” I tell him.

  He does. And when he arrives, I tell him to close the door and sit.

  “We’ve got problems,” I tell him.

  He raises one dark brow and listens.

  “It seems Popov is planning on moving against Allyov, with the Armenians.”

  “Oh, fuck no. They’re crazy motherfuckers.”

  I laugh. “My thoughts exactly. I take out Popov, I end up in a war with them.”

  “Why don’t you tell Allyov and let him take out Popov? Set the wheels in motion and sit back? You could even feed misinformation to the Armenians.”

  “Because I need to be the one to do it, to show the world you don’t fuck with me. He killed my fucking wife, Vasily.”

  “Okay … let me think. Right, how about we tell Allyov what Popov was planning, get him on our side? Then we show the Armenians that Popov was going to fuck them over, concoct enough evidence to convince them, and tell them we’re dealing with him, then introduce the Armenians and Allyov. All sorted!”

  I go to the sideboard and pour two hefty glasses of vodka from a bottle chilling in an ice bucket. I pass the neat drink, no ice, to Vasily and take a sip of my own.

  “Doesn’t solve the issue that the Armenians are wanting to move into the territory here, does it?”

  “No, but you said yourself, you want London to remain legit for you. The only reason you’re even getting involved is because of the vacuum you’d leave for Allyov if you took Popov out. If Allyov thinks you taking Popov out is a favor to him because the bastard was going to backstab him with the Armenians, he’s hardly gonna worry about whether you leave a power vacuum, is he? And he and the Armenians can fight over the scraps and work something out. In fact, the Armenians could become Popov and fulfil his role, and Allyov could keep doing what he is.”

  I sip and sigh, and I think. And think some more. “It makes a certain kind of sense. After all, the Armenians can do what they damn well please, but without permission to use Stamatis Kontas’ shipping lanes, they’ve got nothing. They can’t get the arms to the UK.”

  Stamatis isn’t merely mob, he’s a fucking cartel kingpin. He keeps his operation super tight. Damen, his son-in-law, Alesso, and Markos, and a few long-term hires, he trusts. In fact, I think, I need to build more of a Stamatis-type operation. His men are in deep with him, their fates all tied together. Vasily works for me, as does Bohdan, but could I make them more? Start to give them more of a return on their time with more share of the power? Not Denis, he’s muscle pure and simple with his lack of brains.

  “Yep, in this whole thing, Stamatis is king maker whether he wants to be or not.” Vasily picks up my train of thought, proving he can strategize with the best of them. “He won’t want hassle, but we just have to present it to the Armenians along the lines of, this: Popov is an untrustworthy asshole. Allyov isn’t. You let us take out Popov, and we will let you have his territory and all it entails. You work with Allyov nicely, fulfilling the same role Popov did, and we will ensure you can use the European shipping lanes.”

  I smile because it makes sense. First things first, we have time, so I need to talk to Andrius and find out if he’s willing to give Allyov the information or if I should go through one of Allyov’s other men.

  Vasily sips his drink. “So, the girl?”

  “Liza? Yeah, I know.”

  “No, the other one. If this all comes to fruition, you don’t need to keep her safe from Popov because he’ll be gone. You won’t be in danger of her being taken by him and singing like a little yellow canary, correct?”

  “Yeah?” I say warily.

  “But she still knows too much. About you. About me. Our business. So you can’t just let her go.”

  Where is he going with this? “You think I should keep her forever?”

  “No,” he says with a snorted laugh. “Of course not. You must kill her.”

  Then he downs the rest of his vodka and leaves the room without another word.

  You must kill her.

  It’s what I should do. I haven’t killed any women outside of war, but I’m not Andrius. It’s not a line I won’t cross if needs be to protect myself and my business. But this is Cassie. Cassie who reads Russian literature and wants a Golden Retriever one day. Cassie whose smile makes me smile. Cassie with her love of iced peach tea and all things sugary.

  I don’t think I can kill Cassie. So what am I going to do with her?

  Keep her, a dark voice whispers.

  I think back to her in that swimsuit. She’s got a much better body than I imagined, and I imagined a lot. The reality, thou
gh? Better.

  Her tits are big, natural, and full. Her skin is soft, pale tan, with freckles on her collarbone and shoulders. She’s probably about five-foot-four or five in bare feet, but has the length of limb and grace of a taller woman. Her waist is tiny, her stomach flat, her hips curvy, and I haven’t seen enough of her ass yet, but after the rest of her, I’d put money on it being spectacular.

  I’m hard. Horny as fuck and frustrated, I stalk to the study door and lock it. Then I close the blinds. I open my desk drawer and take out the folder on Cassie that I’ve been putting together and look at the pictures of her. One of them, taken from her sparse Facebook page, is a photo of her in a sundress.

  You can see the promise of those epic tits if you look closely, but the dress is a size or so too big. Like a lot of her clothes. Why does she hide herself in baggy, shapeless sacks? Her body is better than Liza’s, better than most of the models I’ve dated because it’s lush, curvy, and so damn ripe.

  Very few women have a body like Cassie’s naturally. Most women are athletic, or pear shaped, few are a perfect, natural hourglass. If anything, she’s a little top heavy but only because of her tits; her shoulders are small, petite. Dainty almost. She’s got slim wrists and small hands.

  I stare at the picture of her in the sundress and imagine pulling it down, revealing those amazing breasts. I wonder what color her nipples are and whether she’s got large areola or not. I imagine sucking her nipples into my mouth and her moaning as I do.

  I bet she’s responsive. The way she reacted in the pool says she is.

  My mind wanders, and I further the fantasy, ripping her dress right down the front. As I think about this, I take my aching cock out of my pants, undoing the zip and freeing myself with a groan. I’m so hard and already leaking at the head. I come a lot, it’s one of the things my girlfriends have loved about me. They take it as a compliment. I’d love to come for Cassie. To cover her tits and throat. Then I’d fuck her, come inside her, and make her walk around with no underwear on, so I run down her thighs.

  It doesn’t take more than a few strokes before I’m right on the edge.