Wed to the Russian Biker: A Mafia Romance

by Bella Rose

  For once there was no worrying about her pleasure. Mikhail reveled in the feel of her. He wanted her so badly. She was perfect for him. He stroked his cock in and out of her a dozen times, maybe more. He couldn’t tell and didn’t care. Then he felt his orgasm nipping at the edges of his consciousness and thrust deep.

  “Come with me,” he ordered.

  And she did. Courtney came just as prettily as she had before. Her body bucked and shuddered and squeezed him so tightly that the friction nearly made him weep with the pleasure of it. He poured his seed into her hot body and felt her milk him for more. It was exquisite and he never wanted to stop.

  COURTNEY WAS FLYING and never wanted to come down. It was glorious! The relief was profound. She felt safe and cherished and wanted in ways that nobody else ever seemed to make her feel. She gripped the edges of Mikhail’s desk and savored the knowledge that it was his seed spilling down the insides of her legs. She wanted that. She wanted to belong to him and nobody else.

  She could hear his harsh breathing. She was also having trouble catching her breath. Then she felt him lift her dress a little farther and expose her butt cheek. His low curse startled her. He pulled out of her body abruptly and yanked her dress down to cover her backside.

  Courtney spun around, feeling horribly exposed and embarrassed. Was there something wrong with her? Was she somehow damaged?”

  “Who did that to you?” Mikhail snarled.

  “Did what?”

  He pointed. “You have a handprint on your ass, Courtney. Who did it?”

  She felt the blood drain from her face as she realized that the slap of Creighton’s hand must have left a mark. Embarrassment made her almost light-headed. It was humiliating to realize that Mikhail now knew that other men thought of her as nothing but a toy to be passed around and treated like crap.

  “It’s nothing,” she said faintly. “Creighton was mad.”

  Mikhail’s face was a mask of fury. “Are you sleeping with him?”

  “What?” She was horrified by the mere notion. “No!”

  “You are!” Mikhail fastened his pants. “What was all of this? Some ploy to get me to fuck you? Are you trying to get back at him for cheating? Is that why you came here? You knew he’d be pissed?”

  “No!” Courtney was horrified. “You think that of me? You think I would do something like that? I’ve never screwed Creighton Kemper in my life! I don’t want to! I hate the thought of having to submit to him as his wife. I don’t want that! Now you’re accusing me of fucking you just to get back at him? What an ego you have, Mikhail!”

  Courtney didn’t have much, but she still had her pride. She pushed her dress down and smoothed her skirt. Then she turned on her heel and stalked toward the door of his office. “Let me tell you something, Mikhail Krachenko,” she said quietly. “I don’t need you any more that I need him. I don’t need anyone. And you had best remember that. You may own my father’s business and you may have all his money. But you don’t have me. And you never will.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Courtney’s anger at Mikhail didn’t dissipate. If anything it grew and grew until it had swollen to mythic proportions by the end of the day. How dare that man make insinuations about her? That she was trying to gain something by sleeping with him? Really? Or worse, that she was actually sleeping with Creighton?

  “Over my dead body,” she muttered to herself. “I can’t even imagine a world where I would let that happen!”

  Her suite in her father’s house had always been her refuge. After the way her father had treated her, it was starting to feel more like a prison. She’d always assumed she would have the same sort of life that she and her girlfriends had been groomed for their entire lives. They were women. They weren’t intended to run the businesses or take Wall Street by storm. They were supposed to be the helpers, the elbow trophies, and the mothers of the next generation of billionaires.

  Courtney stared at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t particularly mind that plan. She’d never wanted any more. Except now she realized that she wanted a lot more. She wanted respect and maybe even love. She hadn’t expected her life to be so mercenary. Yet here she was, engaged in order to assure her father’s financial security. It wasn’t even about her!

  “This is bullshit,” she told herself. “I have a college degree. It might be a journalism degree, but it’s something. I can do this.”

  So she did what so many others in her position had done throughout history. She called Bella and begged her to ask Toby if he would hire Courtney and give her a job.

  “You want a what?” Bella whispered into the phone. “Have you lost your mind?”

  Courtney was trying not to speak too loudly. She was in her bedroom, but there was no telling whether or not her father might be camped outside her door waiting to see if she was going to rebel or not. “It’s not like I told you I want to become a stripper or something, Bells,” Courtney reminded her friend. “I don’t care if Toby has to get me a job in the mail room. I need to be able to support myself.”

  “You do realize that you’d never be able to afford to live like you’re used to with a mail room job, right?” Bella sounded hesitant.

  “I get that.” Courtney sighed. “I have a little money. Not enough to live on without working, but enough that I can make it by without my father’s help if I have to.”

  “I’ll talk to Toby,” Bella finally agreed. “I have no idea what he’ll say, but I’ll talk to him. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure.” Courtney gnawed her lower lip. “I need to think about it some more and try to figure out my options, you know?”

  “Well, sit tight,” Bella advised. “Don’t let anyone know what you’re doing. Your father might go drastic.”

  “Like what? Lock me in a tower?”

  “I don’t know!” Bella laughed. “This whole thing is like some bizarre modern fairy-tale anyway. Why not a tower?”

  “Ugh. Fine. Hurry up and get me employed so I can get out of here!” Courtney hung up the phone and tried to decide what to do next. Unfortunately there really wasn’t a whole lot she could do. It was going to be a long couple of days.

  * * *

  Mikhail frowned at his phone as Toby’s number came up on the screen. “What?”

  “So I just thought you might be interested in the fact that Courtney just asked Bella to request that I give her a job at my company.” Toby sounded a little smug. “I was thinking I might have some openings for janitorial staff available.”

  Mikhail tried and failed to imagine Courtney cleaning toilets. Not that she was too proud for that work. She had never been snooty like that. But he didn’t like to imagine her doing menial tasks. “So give her the job. Is that why you were calling?”

  “I’m not sure why I’m calling you,” Toby remarked. “I’m not in the habit of running my employment decisions past anyone at all. But you’re up to your eyeballs in this Courtney Piers-Cameron thing, and I thought you might have a horse in this race.”

  “And that was one too many clichés in one sentence,” Mikhail growled. “Obviously she’s trying to get out from under her father’s thumb. Good for her. Let’s help her.”

  “Where are you going with this?” Toby wanted to know. “Bella is worried that you’re just going to hurt Courtney.”

  “That isn’t my intention.” Mikhail trailed off as he received a message from his secretary that a Mr. Vasily Romanov was waiting to see him. “Toby, I have to go. Unfortunately it would appear that my past has come knocking on my door.”

  Toby’s sardonic chuckle was not encouraging. “Good luck with that.”

  “Vasily,” Mikhail said, standing as his cousin walked into the office.

  Vasily walked slowly around Mikhail’s corner office. He took in the view, the rich furnishings, the newness of the building, and the prestige that it all obviously indicated. Then he turned and gave Mikhail a long once-over. “You’ve done quite well for yourself, Mikhail.” />
  Mikhail chose his words carefully. It would not do him any favors to seem proud. “It seems so.”

  “We did not hold out much hope for you.” Vasily shrugged. “But now it seems that we were mistaken.”

  “Or not,” Mikhail said smoothly. “I cannot think that I ever would have been very successful within your organization. I’m not much of a team player.”

  “We’ve noticed.” Vasily’s smile was that of a predator eyeing his prey. “Which is why we are going to ask you nicely to back out of the sale of Pierson Security.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mikhail managed to keep his voice mild even though he could hear the blood roaring in his ears and he wanted badly to tell Vasily exactly where he could shove his suggestion. “But that sale is already finalized.”

  “Then we are politely requesting that you give the company in its entirety to Creighton Kemper.” Vasily examined his nails as though he had not made an absolutely outrageous request.

  Mikhail ground his teeth together and tried to remember that Vasily could order Mikhail’s death with one phone call. “I realize that your business acumen is not well-developed in the traditional sense,” Mikhail began slowly. “But surely you can understand that unless Mr. Kemper is willing to reimburse me the billion dollars I invested in the purchase of Pierson Security, I can promise my board of directors will never condone a transfer.”

  “Then make it happen.” Vasily shrugged. “Or we will kill you and be done.”

  Mikhail couldn’t help it. He laughed. He threw his head back and let the laughter roll out of his gut. “I own a security firm, Vasily. I employ a vast number of former Special Forces soldiers who are now work as my personal mercenaries. I could dismantle your entire organization from the inside out with one phone call. I understand that I have managed to step into the middle of whatever plan that you, your colleagues, and Creighton Kemper have arranged. But you must realize that Kemper promised you something he could never deliver anyway. His receipt of Pierson Security was only going to happen if he married Courtney Piers-Cameron. The woman would rather eat glass. Trust me. Kemper lied. So go take it up with him and don’t poke the bear.” Mikhail glared at Vasily, knowing that his bravado was the only way that he was going to get out of this untenable situation with his fortune, his life, and his company intact. “Trust me, Vasily. You do not want to go there.”

  * * *

  Courtney shifted nervously from one foot to the other. The only reason she’d made it out of the house at all was because she’d managed to convince her father that she had an appointment with the florist. In reality she was standing in the lobby of Toby Pinckney’s building, waiting to greet a human resources rep that was supposed to be taking her for an employment prescreen. Whatever that was.

  “Hello, Ms. Piers-Cameron?” A woman held out her hand for Courtney to shake. “I’m Trisha. I’ll be taking you down for the lab testing and to fill out some forms. Welcome to Pinckney Industries.”

  “Thank you.” Courtney felt a little shell-shocked. She didn’t even know what her new position was. She could only hope Toby didn’t have the sort of sick sense of humor that would land her on a toilet-cleaning crew, although she was in no position to argue.

  “Right this way.” Trisha let Courtney through a door marked STAFF ONLY and into a long hallway.

  “Can you tell me what this will entail? The lab work, I mean?” Courtney couldn’t imagine why she would need a blood test.

  “Oh sure.” Trisha smiled and waved her hand as if it was no big deal. “It’s the standard blood and urine screen for drugs and alcohol, and then we do a basic metabolic panel for the health insurance plan.”

  “Oh right. Health benefits.” Courtney realized that there was a whole lot of life that she was so very unprepared for.

  * * *

  Mikhail tried not to crack a smile as he watched the head of his security teams division try to digest everything that Mikhail had just told him. Frank Robins was a hulking black man with a clean-shaven head and the physique of a pro wrestler. Unlike a typical meathead, Frank had a very sharp mind and a fierce intellect that Mikhail had come to respect over the years.

  “So you want us to start running covert surveillance on the local Russian mafia?” Frank asked again, probably just to make sure his employer wasn’t joking with him. “And you’re stressing the covert part because you’re pretty sure that they’re going to make a move against you personally?” Frank’s countenance darkened. “Which—by the way—makes me think it would be best just to take them all out and be done with it. I have two teams that could make that happen within twenty-four hours.”

  “No.” Mikhail shook his head. “I generally hold the belief that if I don’t bother them, they won’t bother me. I grew up with those men. I have respect for them. And I understand that they are just trying to protect their investments because they chose to back the wrong horse in this race.”

  “Creighton Kemper.” Frank supplied.

  “Exactly.”

  Frank snorted. “That pansy asshole is lucky his own family hasn’t taken him out.”

  “Agreed, but Vasily doesn’t know that. Kemper isn’t part of Vasily’s world.” Mikhail thought it over for a moment. “I would suspect that Kemper went to them with a proposition, or he might be a regular client in one of their casinos who happens to owe them more than a little money.” Mikhail thought that over for a moment. “You know what? Add that to the work order. I want to know what the Russians have on Kemper or vice versa. It’s high time I got on the better end of the information train in this bullshit scenario.”

  “Consider it done,” Frank said quickly. “And sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “We’re going to be doubling your personal security as well.”

  Mikhail sighed. “I think I’ll head down to the gun range and brush up on my skills.”

  “Good.” Frank gave a hard nod. “That was going to be my next suggestion. We can do a lot to keep you safe, but in the end you’ve got to have the balls to take matters into your own hands and own the results.”

  “Maybe I should put you on my motivational-speaking task force,” Mikhail mused. “Although you might freak out some of the employees in the do not need to know departments.”

  “Very true, sir,” Frank laughed. “Very, very true.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Courtney stared at her desktop and tried to process what the e-mail in front of her was saying. It had been a little over a week since she had started her job at Pinckney Industries. Toby had placed her in a data entry position, which considering her degree was in journalism was just fine with Courtney. It was far better than the toilet-cleaning position she had been afraid of filling. Human Resources had just sent her a few files regarding the blood work and other lab tests they had performed on that very first day. Most of it was pretty self-explanatory. This last bit was not.

  “Pregnant?” she murmured.

  The young woman in the neighboring cubicle popped up over the paper-thin wall that separated their desks. “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.” Courtney forced herself to give the woman a pleasant smile. It hadn’t taken long to realize that Janie had a penchant for spreading gossip. And there was no way that Courtney wanted this juicy tidbit to get out just yet.

  “Surely there has to be a mistake,” Courtney muttered to herself. “I’ll just go after work and clear this right up.”

  She glanced at the clock and groaned out loud. It was only three in the afternoon. She had two more hours of work before she could leave. The waiting was already driving her insane and the e-mail had hit her inbox only three and a half minutes ago!

  Forcing herself not to look at the clock, Courtney went back to work and managed to keep her mind on her tasks and not the bizarre possibility that she might be pregnant. Pregnant? It was preposterous! First of all, she hadn’t even had… Okay she had had sex with Mikhail that night after Bella’s wedding. But it was only once—er—twice. Surely that wasn’t enou
gh to get her pregnant! People tried unsuccessfully for years to have children. How could it be that she and Mikhail just happened to manage it the very first time they were together?

  And what would she do if she really was pregnant? She was already lying through her teeth to her father about what she was doing every day. Her father would never limit her contact with Bella since Bella was from and had married into two of the wealthiest, most powerful families in the city. Courtney had simple told her father that she was spending her days with Bella helping her with some project or another. It was odd that her father would have bought that excuse far more readily than he would have accepted the notion that she had a real job. But just as soon as Courtney found a little apartment to rent, she planned to tell her father everything. And she was going to enjoy it too.

  Finally glancing at the clock around four fifty-five, she shut down her computer for the day and gathered her things. She’d make a quick stop by the women’s walk-in clinic down the block, and then she would go look at one more apartment before making her decision. It would all work out, and she would be fine.

  * * *

  Mikhail looked over the report that Frank had just set on his desk. “Shit.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s pretty much what I thought as well.” Frank sat back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head, and crossed his legs at the knee. He looked deceptively calm.

  “And you’re sure whatever intel you used is reliable?”

  “The best, sir,” Frank assured him.

  “So Kemper got himself fired from his father’s business.” Mikhail mulled that over in his head for a moment. “How do you even manage that? Really. He got fired from a job that he didn’t even have to show up for in order to collect a salary.”

  “Apparently they let him keep his office to keep up appearances, but he is persona non grata around there,” Frank said, gesturing to the report. “You can understand why really. The gambling alone is concerning, but when he started putting up company shares, that meant he was actually losing his family company to the Russian mafia. His father put his foot down, his brother—the tax lawyer, mind you—got involved and got the company out of hot water, and the mafia was down to trying to collect from their little cash cow in other more creative ways.”