Prince of the Brotherhood: A Mafia Romance

by K. Alex Walker

  She’d never had her heart broken, but it wasn’t like she’d ever put it on the line.

  His voice softened. “Really? Why?”

  “It’s,” she looked down, making paths in the condensation on the side of her glass, “complicated.”

  “That’s because most men make false promises. Me, I make no promises I can’t keep. You want this place, you can have it. You want sapphires and diamonds, they’re yours. Since I can’t marry you or give you children, everything else…I offer it. If you had to think of something, Miss K,” he edged closer, “what would you ask for?”

  “I—”

  Banging on the door startled them both.

  Dom’s voice carried across the room, through the steel. “Open up or not, Yuri, I’m coming in.”

  Chapter 9

  Dom squeezed his pounding forehead and stared at the building where Gideon and Mikhail had dropped Eija off. It also happened to be the same building he lived in, and he’d never spotted her before today. Not even a glimpse. Eija was one of the most attractive women he’d ever met. In his life. It was laughable he hadn’t seen her even once in the three months since she’d signed on as Nikolai’s new nanny.

  Was she a stalker?

  Was this just a fortunate coincidence?

  She hadn’t known his name wasn’t Andrei, the shock on her face genuine, so she obviously hadn’t gotten his note. Without that note, it looked like he’d gotten the pussy he’d been chasing and skipped out. Though Eija owned her sex appeal, it that didn’t make her inhuman. It would have hurt him—pissed him off, really—if she’d skipped out on him after the unforgettable couple of weeks they’d spent together.

  If she wasn’t a stalker and this wasn’t a coincidence, there was one last option—Yuri had orchestrated the entire thing.

  But why bring Eija to Russia?

  For now, he’d let the dust settle. Then, he’d try to find out if this was all part of Yuri Sokolov’s game, or if there was more to the woman, who’d somehow become even more gorgeous since he’d last seen her, than met the eye. Hearing her speak Russian had nearly made his dick hard in front of his father.

  A familiar black car pulled up to the building’s entrance. Yuri stepped out, unfastening the top button on his shirt.

  Dom stepped out of his.

  Eija wasn’t his woman. Technically, she’d never been. But this wasn’t going to fucking happen.

  He waited until the car pulled off before entering the building. The doorman, Paul, a transplant from Edinburgh, perked up when he spotted him.

  “Ya just missed your uncle, son.”

  Dom nodded. “Yeah, we’re supposed to meet up about something. Thank you.”

  Yuri had buried his little gray-eyed nephew’s true relationship to the Pakhan, the Bratva Boss, so well, Dom was hard pressed to believe anyone would believe he was his son when the time came.

  “People want to kill me,” Yuri had told him. “I don’t want them knowing who you are until you control the Brotherhood.”

  Dom took the elevator to the floor where it indicated his father had stopped and watched as Yuri preened outside Eija’s door.

  She opened it and welcomed Yuri inside.

  He gave them five minutes, then walked to the door and knocked.

  “Open up or not, Yuri, I’m coming in.”

  The lock clicked, and Eija slowly appeared as the door opened. She wore a robe, but he knew, just fucking knew either she was naked or barely wearing anything underneath. The woman was so damn pretty. He’d just had dinner with a pretty woman, but Eija radiated beauty, even in moonlight.

  “Where’s Yuri?”

  She opened the door further, bringing his father into view on her sofa.

  Dom stepped inside. “Why are you here?”

  “To talk to Miss K,” Yuri asserted, rising to his feet.

  “Bullshit. Get out.”

  Yuri cocked his head to the side. “Dominik, do you know who you’re talking to?”

  “I left all my fucks back at the penthouse. I’ve got none to give you.”

  Yuri looked behind him at Eija.

  Dom stepped into Yuri’s line of sight, blocking her from view. “You don’t need to look at her. I’m the one talking to you. Yuri, you said yourself that Nikolai loves Miss K. What do you think will happen if your wife finds out you’re here right now?”

  While he didn’t think Eija would have sex with his father, she would have had sex with Yuri Sokolov. The woman was very confident in what she wanted, and dick happened to be one of those things if memory served him correctly. He hadn’t even considered that they might have already had sex, and this was a normal meetup for them.

  “You’re right, my son. My apologies for stopping by so late, Miss K.”

  Yuri attempted to bid Eija goodnight, but Dom didn’t shift, so he simply let her know he’d see her in the morning. The door automatically locked after Yuri left, but Dom still checked it. When he turned around, Eija was in the kitchen.

  “Eija, did you fuck my father?”

  She shot him a look, rolled her eyes to Mars, fished a pan from one of the bottom cabinets, and set it on the gas stovetop.

  Damn it.

  He wanted to smile.

  He couldn’t believe he was looking at her again, even if it was his father’s doing.

  “Eija?”

  She went to the refrigerator. “What?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Because it’s a dumb ass question.” She waved a covered glass dish at him. “Are you hungry?”

  “I had dinner earlier.”

  “Fancy. Was it a date?”

  “No.”

  She dumped half the dish’s contents into the pan, returned the rest to the refrigerator, and started the fire under the pan, her back turned to him.

  He crossed the room and stood behind her. “Tell me the truth. Did you really not know who I was?”

  “Nope.” She shook her head. “I thought your name was Andrei Falcone.”

  A savory aroma lifted around them.

  “Smells good. What is it?”

  “It’s part of a dish. This is the curried chicken and potatoes to go inside the roti.” She motioned to a flat tortilla on the countertop. “Which is that part.”

  “We didn’t eat roti together in Grenada, did we?”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  He stepped back, giving her space to warm the dough in the oven, and her robe opened enough for him to see the pink bra underneath cupping those plump breasts of hers. How was it possible to miss someone this much after knowing them only a couple of weeks? The key thing he’d get caught up on those nights his thoughts had revolved around her was what they could have had if they’d had more time.

  She closed the oven door.

  He hooked her around the waist and spun her away from the stove, up against the kitchen island, less than an inch of space between them. His head lowered, but she leaned back, away from him.

  “You’re right.” He dragged his bottom lip through his teeth. “I’m being presumptuous.”

  “There you go, using that Stanford degree.” She grinned. “No, you smell like cigars.”

  “So you do want to kiss me.”

  “More or less.”

  “You just can’t kiss me if I might taste like a cigar.”

  “Makes me feel like I’m kissing somebody’s…father.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’re not funny.”

  Laughing, she pinched air with her thumb and index finger. “Come on, it was just a little bit funny.”

  It wasn’t like he was addicted to them. Even if he had been, to kiss her, he’d kick the habit.

  She stepped around his body, went back to the stove, and grabbed a wooden spoon. Each stir of the pan’s contents sent the aroma higher.

  Dom repositioned himself behind her. “It’s so crazy that I get to see you again.”

  “The question is,” she glanced over her shoulder at him, and he ca
ught a wave of sadness that quickly disappeared from her face, “what to do now that you have?”

  “Take you out.”

  She stopped stirring, body stiff. “Take me out how?”

  “You mean where,” he corrected. “Get drinks with me. I can show you around Moscow. Or, we can head to St. Pete for a weekend. I have a place out there in the Golden Triangle.”

  She turned off the burner.

  He reached into the cabinet above her head, grabbed a plate, and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” he said. “So…dinner?”

  As she scooped the curried chicken and potatoes onto the tortilla, a tiny smile woke up the dimple next to the corner of her mouth.

  “What happened to drinks?” she asked.

  “The more you talk, the more I like you.” At the penthouse, she’d had her hair in that tight bun. Here, it was out and had a light, fresh scent to it. “Why aren’t you more upset with me? You didn’t get my note. Shouldn’t you hate me?”

  “For skipping out on me in the middle of the night after I fucked you so good?”

  “That. Exactly that.”

  She leaned back into his chest and tilted her head, looking up into his eyes. From every angle, this woman was lovely, and it had disappointed him for a long time he hadn’t been able to wake up next to her in the sunshine.

  “What did your note say?”

  “That I enjoyed our time together.” He unraveled the strap on her robe. “That my real name isn’t Andrei Falcone.”

  This wasn’t about wanting to make love to her. He wanted to feel her skin, feel that she was standing in front of him and not an evil trick up his imagination’s sleeve.

  She blinked slowly, searched his face. “Did you say what your real name was in the note?”

  “I signed it ‘Dom.’” One side of the robe fell open, and he slipped his hand inside, her stomach warm against his palm. “I wanted you to know that much, at least.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me before? Why hide your name?”

  “I was hiding from my father.”

  “And I came across as dangerous to you?”

  “No, not at all.” He slid his thumb over her skin. “But I didn’t know if telling you my name would be dangerous for you. Yuri was adamant about me coming home. You wouldn’t be the first woman he’s scared off.”

  Something marbled passed beneath his fingertip. She sucked in a breath and pushed his hand away.

  “Was that a scar?”

  She quickly wrapped her little roti burrito and eased out of his grasp. “Yep.”

  “You didn’t have that before.”

  “How do you know?” She left the kitchen and took a seat at the oversized dining table. “You can’t tell me you paid that much attention to my body.”

  “I can tell you exactly that.” He sat in the chair next to hers. “Why does it feel like a knife wound?”

  “A knife wound? Really, Andr…Dominik? Where would I get a knife wound? I teach and take care of kids. At times, resorts. I’m not a secret agent.”

  “Call me Dom.”

  “Dom.” She said the name like she was trying it out. “You should probably go. I really need this job, and I don’t want to cause any problems between you and your father.”

  “Me and my father had problems long before you came along.”

  Her clear brown eyes lit up. “So, that was true what you told me in Grenada? That you and your father are estranged? What about Ekaterina?”

  “Kat’s not my mother.”

  She bit into the roti, and a little of the curry sauce spread at the corner of her mouth. He reached out with his thumb, but she licked it away.

  “Of course, she’s not your mother,” she said, looking off to the side. “So freakin’ obvious.”

  “It’s why, if you line me up with Yuri, Kat, and their daughters, I look adopted. Why, has that been on your mind or something?”

  She nodded and took another bite.

  “Can you make one of those for me next time?”

  She nodded again.

  He sat watching her while she ate, the seconds ticking by in his head. She was right. He had to leave. If Yuri relieved her of her duties, it would limit his access to her.

  “What time do you usually show up in the mornings?” he asked, standing.

  She swallowed. “Six. A little before Nikolai wakes up.”

  “Okay. Come to breakfast tomorrow so I can look at you.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  He leaned toward her mouth.

  “Dobroy nochi, Dom.”

  Fuck, that was sexy as shit.

  Never again would he touch another cigar if it meant not having his mouth on hers.

  “Good night, Eija.”

  He left the apartment and headed to the other side of the building.

  It wasn’t until he was in his long entry hallway, slipping off his shoes, that he remembered the reason he’d agreed to join his father for breakfast the next morning—to meet another one of his fiancée prospects. After tomorrow, the taste of cigars would no longer be the main thing between him and his desire to kiss Eija until he sucked her dry.

  Cold, sharp steel pressed against his neck. “Hello, Dominik—”

  Dom grabbed the wrist holding the blade and drove his head back into the intruder’s nose. They stumbled backward, and he turned around to an unfamiliar face. Although this man had threatened him in Russian, it was with an accent and in a dialect he was only vaguely familiar with. A dialect his grandfather had spoken.

  “Is it true?” the man asked.

  Dom didn’t reply. He didn’t like to do any unnecessary talking before murder.

  The man charged.

  Dom grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting and bending until the man’s fingers went numb. The knife fell from the man’s hand and onto his palm, and he wasted no time jamming the blade into the man’s neck. He then pulled it out and shoved it through the man’s chest wall.

  After a ridiculously dramatic period of gasps and gurgling, the man crumbled to the floor.

  Dom pulled out his phone, texted Pavel, and headed to the shower. By the time he finished, the body, as well as any trace of it, was gone.

  The lights in Dom’s unit came on, and Yuri looked down at his watch. “Less than an hour? Unless she followed him to his unit, they couldn’t have had sex. If they did, I’m disappointed in my son.”

  “I’m even more certain it’s her,” Pavel said. “Dominik’s reaction to Miss K only confirmed what we already knew.”

  The woman from Grenada.

  Pavel had been on the island long enough to confirm Dom’s infatuation with the brown-skinned beauty. The woman was a cock’s dream from top to bottom, head to toe. Her voice took on raspy, sultry notes from time to time, and Yuri was certain bringing her to climax would rival that of the pleasure the orchestra at the Russian ballet often brought him. It was no wonder his son was smitten. Even for the most unapologetic of philanderers, the right person could still trap a wanderer’s heart in a vise grip. If Dom was anything like him, love was the ultimate weakness.

  Yuri leaned against the Mercedes SUV’s soft leather backseat. “I hope having Miss Brown from Grenada in his bed will keep him entertained. Corrigible.”

  And distracted.

  “Sir,” Pavel held out his phone, “Dom needs clean up.”

  Yuri read the message, brows lowered. Despite Dominik’s mother’s gentle nature, religion, and background, Dominik was still a Sokolov. He still had Sokolov blood, tainted at birth. The man who’d entered Dominik’s apartment likely hadn’t lived longer than five minutes.

  “I want to know everything about where this person came from,” Yuri ordered. “The only people I’ve allowed to know who my son is are in this car as well as my wife.”

  “And Miss K,” Pavel added.

  “She’s no sort of threat. To a cock, maybe, but not to the Bratva.” Yuri brushed the air. “Find out who I can’t trust
, Pavel. Find out who I have to kill.”

  With a nod, Pavel left the vehicle.

  Chapter 10

  Eija passed by the hallway mirror at Colin and April’s and noticed the button at the top of her shirt had come undone. She’d had no idea shirts with this high of a neck existed anywhere outside a convent. Ekaterina was clueless if she believed Yuri would heel as long as he didn’t have to stare at exposed breasts all day. She still had a face, a shape. No amount of high-necks or loose-fitting slacks would fix that, his late-night visit evidence of that.

  “I still don’t know if I want you risking this, E,” Colin said from the sofa, his hair disheveled.

  She sighed, puffing her mouth up so he could see exactly how frustrated she was.

  “What’s with the handholding and babysitting all of a sudden, Colin? I said I’d get into Yuri’s study. I’ve you connected to their system, and the hallway cameras will only need to be down about five minutes. Are you telling me not to trust you?”

  “Don’t hand me that BS, babe.”

  “Don’t call me—”

  “I know.” He yawned. “I know.”

  “Don’t be mad at me because April has you sleeping on the sofa.”

  His reddish-brown eyebrows drooped. Any lower and he’d inhale brow hairs.

  “First of all, keep your voice down,” he whispered. “Second...ouch.”

  Gideon and Mikhail would be there in a couple of minutes to pick her up, but she sat down next to him anyhow.

  “Why do you still sleep out here?” she grilled, now fully invested in his lack of a love life. “You’re into her, she’s into you. Have neither of you communicated this yet?”

  Colin fell backward onto his pillow with a loud groan, despite just now telling her to keep quiet. “I don’t want to do anything to ruin the relationship I have with her, right now. I like her, E. You wouldn’t know anything about th—ouch!”

  She released his toe.

  “What’s with this idea that I don’t have feelings? Because I like dick? What’s wrong with liking dick?”

  “It’s not just that.” He pulled his leg toward his midsection and massaged his toe. “You’re scared of letting people get close to you.”