Wed to the Russian Biker: A Mafia Romance

by Bella Rose

  “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll be at your place tonight at eight o’clock. And you’d better be ready to ride, because it won’t be an option.”

  Leah took a breath to argue, but he was already gone. She was left to stare after him fuming and wondering if she had just made the biggest mistake of her life. She’d been delusional when she thought she had the upper hand just because of that stupid prenup. A man like Griffin wasn’t going to be ruled.

  She turned and walked toward her car. Okay, so she couldn’t boss him around like she had observed more than a few of her coworkers doing with their husbands. She was smart and motivated. Surely there was a way to manipulate him into being the sort of husband she could tolerate. Right?

  Leah stopped walking and threw her head back to look up at the sky. Around her people went about their daily lives as though there was absolutely nothing wrong. But maybe they were all faking it too. Perhaps they had marital issues, fights with their friends, kids that wouldn’t listen, and jobs they hated.

  Wait. Did she hate her job? Where had that even come from? With a sigh Leah finished the short walk to her car and unlocked the door. This whole marriage/Thorn/inheritance mess was slowly driving her insane. But it was going to work out. She wasn’t giving up. Leah Rawlins was not beaten and she would never be some submissive housewife either.

  She would go home and start packing her things and start planning her move into her father’s house. No. She needed to stop thinking of it as Deacon’s house. It was her mother’s house. Her grandmother had been born there. That was what she had to remember.

  Chapter Eleven

  Griffin stretched until his back popped. He’d been sitting on this damn rock near the overlook for almost two hours. Sometimes he came up here when he needed to think. At this point he realized he might be avoiding his next move. He’d already arranged for Jackson to handle the bar tonight. Hobbs and Curtis were picking up Thorn at school and taking him back out to the Hellfire compound. The only thing left to do was go and claim his bride.

  The words she had thrown at him that afternoon still burned like acid in his face. So she wanted him to be a smear on the pavement, huh? She thought her life would be better without him in it? The woman had never had much talent for seeing the whole picture. Although he sometimes wondered if that wasn’t a trait she got honestly. Her mother had been the same way.

  Leah Rawlins-Prentiss needed to pull her head out of her ass and start living her life honestly. She wasn’t this dried up old woman who went around with blinders on and pretended that she was happy living some boring normal life. It was obvious to him why Leah had never married. She’d been trying to shove herself into that good-girl mode for a decade. It wouldn’t work and Griffin was about to prove it to her.

  He threw his leg over the seat of his bike and started the engine. The hum soothed him. He put the bike in gear and pulled out onto the pavement. He’d only turned into the first curve down the hill when he heard other engines approaching. They were coming fast, and there were dozens of them.

  Griffin frowned. He moved over to give them plenty of room without putting his tires in the gravel, which would have put him at risk for spinning out and dropping his bike in the turns. It became quickly apparent that the bikers didn’t want to pass. In seconds, they swarmed him on all sides. He recognized the Demon Lovers’ patch on their jackets and his gut tightened in response.

  As they came into the second turn, Griffin was dangerously close to the gravel on the shoulder. He braked hard, swerving into the biker on his left. There was a shouted curse as the guy swerved hard to his left and found himself smashed up against one of his buddies. The two bikes bounced off each other and went in opposite directions, but Griffin had already moved out of harm’s way. He slowed until he was at the back of the pack and watched the two bikes start a chain reaction. Several men went down. Four sets of sparks arced high into the twilight as the metal of the machines met the blacktop. The steep hill did nothing to slow their trajectory as the main body of the pack quickly left them behind.

  Two other riders smashed in close to Griffin’s sides. Their choppers bounced off his 1200cc low-riding custom bike. He ground his teeth in irritation at what the bastards were doing to his paint job. But paint could be touched up. Death had a way of making the rest of it insignificant.

  Griffin waited until they entered the next turn before snatching at the guy on his right. He delivered a quick blow to the old man’s gray-bearded chin. Then he grabbed his handlebars and yanked them left. The bike spun out, crashing into its neighbor and sending both men spinning off the side of the road. The incline there would sent them into the trees and down an embankment that would leave them out of the fight for the foreseeable future.

  The wreck left Griffin with an opening. He ducked right, shot through a hole between two other riders and opened the throttle until he felt as though his ass was flying right off the seat. He got low over his handlebars and let his bike run. The custom machine flew, outstripping every single Demon Lover until there was nothing but Griffin and the road beneath a darkening sky. Then he saw his chance to get rid of this problem—at least for now.

  The two-lane road led into a more populated area. Less than a hundred yards ahead, both lanes of traffic were full. Pointing his own bike right down the center of the double yellow, he used the cars to shield his exit. Behind him he could hear honking and yelling as the motorists leaned out their windows to give him the bird. Half of them were no doubt calling 911. He didn’t care. What was important was that the Demon Lovers weren’t about to do the same with a group. Even riding single file there was too much chance of a driver panicking and starting a chain reaction that landed everyone in a deadly pile up.

  Griffin swerved back onto the correct side of the road and then turned down a side street as he entered the town limits. He executed two more turns in quick succession and finally buried himself on a back street for just a few moments. He shut off his engine and flipped off the headlamp. He sat beneath a huge oak tree in the darkness and tried to stop breathing so he could hear if he was being pursued.

  Almost ten minutes passed and he could hear nothing but crickets and some distant traffic. Someone a few streets over was trying to mow their lawn in the twilight. Another house had the windows open, and music drifted on the night breeze. It was quiet. For now. But why had the Demon Lovers come after him like that? Had they been following him all day and waiting for him to be alone? What did they want? He had to find out, if he was going to keep himself from becoming nothing more than a smear on the pavement.

  ***

  Eight o’clock her ass. Leah didn’t know why she was surprised that Griffin couldn’t even keep a simple appointment. The guy was about as irresponsible as they came. Not to mention he belonged to a biker gang that prided themselves on being considered an outlaw band. Them and their stupid one-percent status. It was ridiculous.

  Maybe it would have been better just to have the whole band of losers and hooligans evicted from her property. She and Thorn could have moved out there and tried to build a good life. But no. Leah was idiotic enough to believe that Griffin would make a good role model for Thorn. Now she was paying the price for her delusional behavior.

  Leah stalked back into her bedroom and looked in the mirror. She was suddenly glad that Griffin hadn’t shown up. Her outfit reeked of effort—snug jeans; knee-high, black leather boots; a fitted top that showed off her belly and high breasts. She had dressed as if she was trying to impress him, entice the man into her bed. Why? She didn’t even know why she owned these clothes. They were part of that stash in the back of her closet that she had purchased on a whim and then hidden for a rainy day that inevitably turned into never.

  She had just started to remove her top when there was a knock at her front door. A glance at the clock told her it was eight forty-five. If it was Griffin she would just tell him to go to hell. He was late and that was that.

  Striding to the door, her r
esolve lasted until she opened the door and came face-to-face with the sexiest man alive. She couldn’t even form the words “you’re late.” She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe. He was too delicious!

  Tall, broad, in a T-shirt that showed off his glorious abs and a black leather riding jacket that emphasized he breadth of his shoulders. A vision of what it might be like to push that jacket back over his shoulders and stand on tiptoe to kiss his neck made her almost lightheaded.

  No. She tamped down those thoughts right away. It didn’t matter that his ass looked so fucking good in jeans. He was forty-five minutes late. She needed to set a boundary and hold it or she would be hopelessly outmatched in this farce of a marriage.

  “Sorry I’m late.” He sounded disgruntled. “The Demon Lovers attempted to smear me over the pavement in accordance with your wishes. If I wasn’t so certain that you would rather eat broken glass than talk to one of them, I might have even suspected you of hiring them to bump me off.”

  “Excuse me?” She was horrified that he would even joke about something like that. “I would never!”

  “No?” He raised an eyebrow and gave her a lingering once over. “Then get your ass out here on the bike and let’s go. I need to keep moving before I lose my damn temper and say something I regret.”

  “What? You haven’t done that already?” she snapped.

  He snagged her hand and practically dragged her out of the house. “Just get on the bike.”

  “Gee, now that you’ve asked nicely.” She hoped her caustic tone burned him. “I suppose I can’t refuse—husband.”

  “Since it’s so fucking obvious how much that bothers you—wife,” he said bitterly, “why don’t we just be totally formal and call each other Mister and Missus?”

  “Mrs. what?” she prodded.

  “Why don’t you hyphenate?” he suggested with syrupy sweetness.

  Leah couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Yeah, because everyone should waste the extra time it takes to call me Mrs. Rawlins-Prentiss.”

  His expression shuttered, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He seemed surprised that she had laughed. But his anger had defused hers, and she couldn’t really put her finger on the reason why. She just knew she wasn’t mad at him anymore. Maybe it was because he had apologized.

  She stomped her way past him toward his bike and threw her leg over the seat. “Are you ready? Because I’d like to get some sleep tonight after wasting an evening riding around on a bicycle.”

  He didn’t comment, and she was certain it was because he didn’t know what to make of her lightning fast change of mood. Perhaps that should be her strategy? Keep him off balance and use that to take the reins and wrest control from his very capable hands. She could win this battle between them if she just kept her head.

  Griffin marched to the bike and mounted in front of her. He started the engine and took off without any warning. He was lucky she was not only paying attention, but also somewhat experienced. If she had been a regular civilian she would have somersaulted right off the bike. As it was she just adjusted herself and rocked back a little. Then she gave in to the need to wrap her arms around Griffin’s midsection.

  It felt good to press herself up against him. There was no denying that. Leah was only glad that the situation required the action and she didn’t have to justify it to anyone but her own mind. She could hang onto him, put her cheek against his shoulder and inhale the earthy scent of him. The blend of man, musk, fresh air, and exhaust was strangely enticing. She was losing her mind, but for the moment—what a way to go.

  Chapter Twelve

  It took a monumental amount of effort for Griffin to focus on the road. He was acutely aware of Leah. Her thighs straddled his. He could feel the strength and warmth of them. Her breasts pressed against his back, and he regretted the extra layer of his jacket. The way she wrapped her arms around his waist didn’t suggest to him that she truly hated him as she might have professed. He felt the soft pressure of her cheek rubbing against his back and could have sworn she was sniffing him. The sensation raised utterly foreign feelings of tenderness inside him. This woman was his wife. His. Yet he had no real idea of what that might come to mean.

  They dipped and swerved down an old, narrow, two-lane road through farmland and patches of woods. It was too dark to enjoy the colors, but the peaceful atmosphere remained. Newer and trendier wineries, hobby farms, and quaint bed and breakfasts had replaced the old farms and orchards that had once dominated this area of the county. The hills were close, the vegetation thick, and the roads dangerously narrow and twisted.

  They finally rounded the last curve and a sprawling, three-story building appeared on the right side of the road. Twinkling lights lit the gardens, and a warm yellow emanated from the windows. Griffin turned into the driveway and parked the bike right in front of a door marked OFFICE.

  “What is this place?” There was a strange note of fear in Leah’s tone. “You didn’t say anything about staying the night somewhere. I expected to be home. I have to work in the morning.”

  He craned his neck around to stare at her. “Tomorrow is Saturday.”

  “I have help sessions at noon.”

  “Good. That’s noon. You’ll have time to sleep in a little.” He dismounted from his bike and shook his legs to get the circulation moving. “Maybe a little extra rest will help you chill out.”

  “Excuse me?” She jumped off the bike and stood with her hands propped on her hips and a hot glare on her face. “I do not need to chill out.”

  “Really?” He cocked his head. Letting her get all flustered hadn’t been his initial plan, but at least he was getting some real emotion out of her. The woman was so tightly wrapped up that he was shocked she hadn’t snapped. “Because you seem determined to be so uptight and controlled that I’m surprised your hair hasn’t corkscrewed into tight little knots all over your head.”

  “I—I—What?” She put both hands over her mouth and started giggling.

  Griffin smiled. Even he was starting to relax now.

  She pointed at him. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! Where do you come up with this bullshit?”

  Even that word—bullshit—suggested that Leah was starting to let down her guard. She hadn’t hurled it at him in anger. It had just slipped out.

  “Come on,” he said softly. Holding out his hand, he patiently waited until she placed her fingers in his grip. “Let’s go inside and at least check it out. We’re here.”

  “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” She looked around. “This place is beautiful. Can you imagine owning something like this? I’m sure it’d be a pain in the ass to run, but still.”

  It was interesting that she was already trying to talk herself out of something before even seriously considering it as something she might like for herself. It was almost as if she was determined to deny herself anything that might bring her pleasure. Why?

  He gently pulled her hand up into the crook of his arm and led the way into the inn’s office. A plump, pleasant woman sat at the desk. She was frowning at a computer and muttering to herself. Griffin found this highly amusing. Beside him he could tell that Leah was more apprehensive.

  Griffin cleared his throat to get the woman’s attention. “I have a reservation.”

  “Oh my!” She jumped and placed her hand over her heart. “I didn’t see you there! I was too busy being mad at this silly machine. I cannot stand computers even though they make things so much easier! I’m Flo, by the way. I own the inn.”

  “I can certainly sympathize with that,” Griffin told her. “My name is Griffin Prentiss.”

  Flo’s face split into a wide welcoming smile. “My newlyweds!” She clapped her hands. “Of course! I’ve got your room all ready. And so many congratulations to you both. I just love weddings!”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Griffin winked at her. It was the least he could do since his bride had just turned to a block of granite beside him.

  “N
ow.” Flo stood up and put a map on the counter. “This is where your room is. The honeymoon suite is in the loft right here. It’s our nicest set of rooms, you know? I had it completely renovated just last year, and I’m sure you’ll have a lovely evening. I had my Ben start a fire in there about ten minutes ago, so it should be going pretty good for you now.”

  “Thank you kindly, ma’am.” Griffin nodded and then turned and practically dragged Leah out of the office on his arm.

  “Honeymoon?” she squeaked. “This isn’t a honeymoon.”

  “No, but it’s a wedding night,” he reminded her. “Look. Nothing has to happen, Leah. It’s just you and me for one night. That’s all I want. A chance to talk maybe, or even just relax. No members of the crew hanging about. No Thorn poking his head in. No distractions. All right?”

  Leah was in danger of panicking. Honeymoon? He’d made reservations at this picturesque inn and had requested the honeymoon suite for a pair of newlyweds? She was certain that any other woman on the planet would be thrilled at how much thought he’d put into the experience. She wasn’t any other woman. She had married for convenience. Now Griffin was trying to turn it into something more, and she wasn’t entirely comfortable with that.

  They walked through a gorgeous, two-story common room with floor-to-ceiling windows, which showcased a view of the elaborate gardens. White Christmas lights lit the pathways, giving it a fairytale atmosphere. The room itself was cozy and welcoming with a fire roaring in a massive brick fireplace. Griffin kept walking and started up the stairs on their left. One, two, three flights, and they stood before a door with a quaint sign that labeled it the honeymoon suite.

  “I didn’t bring a bag or clothes or anything,” Leah said suddenly.

  Griffin shrugged. “I sleep naked. You could try that.”

  She swallowed. Why did everything he say make her feel like running away and screaming at the top of her lungs? He had such an easy time discomposing her. It was very annoying. She decided to be angry. Anger was better than bewilderment, right?