One Night in Russia: A Secret Baby Mafia Romance

by Bella King

  “I hope he’s taking me out for some proper food. I’m hungry,” I say.

  “You’ve refused the chef’s lunches and dinners in favor of snacking,” Slav reminds me.

  I narrow my eyes at him, peeved that he would mention how many pretzels I’ve crammed into my mouth since coming here. I’m hungry. Is that so wrong? I’ve been having a lot of odd cravings, but I’m not in the mood to be called out over what I eat. I know that I’ve been eating everything under the sun. I don’t need to be reminded.

  “I just want to get out of the house for a while and stretch my legs. It would be nice if Nikolai wanted to take me to the park.”

  “It’s unsafe out there,” Slav says, looking toward the window.

  “And yet, I haven’t heard a single gunshot or yell coming from the great outdoors since I arrived here,” I reply.

  “Believe me, Nikolai has had at least four brushes with death this week alone. It’s hell out there,” Slav explains.

  “Is he out there trying to get himself killed?” I ask, throwing my hands up. “What a moron. I thought he brought me here to fuck my brains out, not to bore me to death and commit suicide.”

  “I can assure you that Nikolai is still alive and well.”

  “He probably won’t be for long,” I grumble, crossing my arms tight over my chest.

  Slav chuckles. “Go get ready, and I’ll let him know that you intend to kill him when he arrives.”

  “I’ll strangle the idiot,” I threaten, ignoring Slav’s request for me to get ready again. “Does he realize what he’s doing?”

  Slav nods his head. “Nikolai is a very smart man and a good leader.”

  “And a lunatic,” I add.

  “He’s not the craziest one here, but he’s close,” Slav says with a knowing smile.

  I sigh, searching my brain for something else to complain about. I’ve said about everything I wanted to say to Slav. The rest of my complaints are reserved for Nikolai. He has some serious explaining to do.

  Finally, I put my arms down, looking back at Slav. “I’ll go get ready, but I want to go to the store first. I need to get some stuff.”

  “Stuff?”

  “Lady stuff. Just get me a guard to escort me there. I promise I won’t run away,” I say dryly.

  “I can have someone go for you while you get ready,” he offers.

  I glare at him. “It’s personal stuff. I’d appreciate it if you let me go to the store.”

  Slav hesitates but complies after a moment. “Just don’t go far. The streets are crawling with undercover police and mafia thugs waiting to attack anyone who looks remotely bratva. Tensions are at an all-time high.”

  “Got it,” I reply. I know that he’s just trying to help me. Slav is a good guy, and I believe he has a family too. He’s just careful, and he knows that Nikolai is the one with the final say around here. I don’t actually have that much power.

  I walk out of the room with Slav to get an armed escort for my trip to the shop. I need to make sure of one thing before I find out what Nikolai’s special surprise is. This could change everything.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nikolai

  I’ve been so wrapped up in the chaos that’s ensued since the airport incident that I haven’t had time for Elaine. I’d love to romance her while I fight off the enemy and restore order, but juggling such things takes away from my ability to focus on one. I risk messing up everything from all sides.

  Besides, I believe that the airports will be reopening soon, despite all the violence and disorder in the country. I’d like to give her a good time before she goes, sort of as an apology for making her stay here, but I know she won’t stay. It’s a shame too because she’s a charming woman.

  I haven’t been able to reach Anastasia since finding out that she sold Phenolide-11 to other bratvas. I recently got word that she might have fled the country. With all the money she made, I don’t blame her. Sticking around here would be a death sentence for her with all the trouble she’s caused, and that money is enough to retire or move her operations elsewhere.

  As much as I dislike what she did, I hate to see her go. She was the best weapons supplier in the country, and it’s going to be difficult to find another supplier who is as dedicated to the business as she was.

  Last week we hit the Fedorov warehouse, expecting to find weapons, but we didn’t find anything but traps. I almost got killed, and every turn I’ve taken since then has nearly resulted in me dying.

  I’m getting to the point where I’m considering locking myself inside with Elaine and waiting for this whole thing to end on it’s won, but I know it won’t end without my participation. I’m a key player in this game, and probably the only opposition to the Fedorov mafia that’s capable of defeating them.

  The bratva life is tough, which is why I want to do something special with Elaine tonight. She’s been moping around the headquarters for several weeks, and Slav tells me that she has had quite the attitude lately. Maybe she needs some cheering up.

  I plan to take her out, but not anywhere dangerous. There’s a rooftop restaurant that has so many heaters on it that you would think it was summertime while you eat in the fresh open air. It’s amazing to experience in the dead of winter.

  I figured someone from the United States would appreciate some warmth right about now. I know Elaine hasn’t adjusted to how cold it gets here. Even indoors, she acts like she’s freezing to death. I bought her some sweaters which she seems to live in.

  I’m on my way home to see Elaine. Slav is back to business, so he’ll be overseeing her preparation for dinner. I’ve had him watch over Elaine since he came back to work since it’s too dangerous out in combat for him. He has a wife and a baby to care for. He’s in no position for fieldwork.

  I wonder if I’ll ever see the day when I become a father. If I live through this nightmare with the Fedorov bratva, I just might consider starting a family. It would be hard to find a woman as beautiful and witty as Elaine, though. She’s a special woman, but I don’t deserve her.

  I grip the wooden handle of my revolver as the armored car I’m in pulls up to a stoplight. These are the types of places where things get dangerous. I’ve seen more shootings at intersections than anywhere else, and a stopped car is a prime target.

  The Fedorov morons shoot first and ask questions later. They’re crawling around the city, rattling off bullets into any car that looks suspicious, civilian or otherwise. They don’t care anymore.

  That’s not how you run a mafia gang. We used to be about honor, family, and business, but the Fedorov mafia has tarnished that image and painted us as a menace to society. Now, the government has taken an interest, and I’ve seen checkpoint stops where military police search cars to find mafia members. It’s madness.

  I don’t fuck with the government. That’s just something I won’t do. I’m surprised that the Fedorov airport stunt didn’t get them nuked off the map, but they seem more powerful than ever. Whoever is behind this is power-hungry and quitter possibly out of their mind.

  I haven’t yet identified who that is, but once I do, I’ll make sure that they have a price on their head so high that even civilians will take arms against them. I’ll do whatever it takes to stop them before they destroy everything that I’ve worked so hard to build and protect.

  I loosen my grip on the weapon on my side as the light turns green and we start moving again. I have one more stop before coming home to Elaine, and that’s to get rid of the chemical weapon that Anastasia sold us. Phenolide-11 is simply too toxic for me to ever justify using, even against the Fedorov. I won’t sink to their level.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Alek asks from the driver’s seat.

  I look over to him. “Do what?” I ask, already knowing that he’s talking about disposing of the Phenolide-11. Maybe he doesn’t see the reason for getting rid of something so valuable, but even thinking about having it in my possession disgusts me. I shouldn’t have ever bought it in
the first place.

  “You know what I’m talking about,” Alek says. “You could sell it, at least.”

  “I don’t want anyone else to have it,” I reply.

  “What if we need it, though?” Alek asks.

  I shouldn’t have told him about the stuff, but people were starting to ask questions, and rumors were spreading in our ranks about the Fedorov’s secret weapon. I figured it was time to expose it as nothing more than a cruel chemical weapon, but now Alek and several others in my ranks seem to think we should use it on the Fedorov.

  I guess that’s why they’re not the ones in charge. I’m working my ass off to hold true to traditional bratva values, and I’ll keep it that way even if it costs me mt life.

  I turn to Alek. “We won’t need the weapon, Alek, because that’s not the way the bratva operates. The Fedorov are no longer bratva in my eyes. They’re scum.”

  “Time to clean up the scum,” Alek mutters.

  “Yes,” I reply, gritting my teeth, “And we’re going to do it the right way.”

  “Whatever you say, boss,” Alek replies, slowing the car down in front of an unassuming building in an unoccupied neighborhood.

  “In and out,” I say, opening the car door and hopping out.

  “I’ll be waiting,” Alek replies.

  I shut the door and job toward the building. It’s time to destroy the suitcase full of Phenolide-11 once and for all. Hopefully, the Fedorov are all out of it, but I won’t bet on it. We’ll just have to wait and see, but once their stock is gone, I don’t want any left floating around, waiting to be used.

  I scan my iris at the door, prompting a keypad to reveal itself from the unassuming brick wall. I keep security as high as possible in times like these, even if nobody knows about this warehouse but Alek, Slav, and me.

  I punch in a truly random code, one that I had generated on a computer that was subsequently destroyed. Only I know the code, and only I can get into this warehouse. The walls may look like brick, but underneath the shell, there is a foot of solid steel. Nothing is getting through that but me.

  The heavy bolt on the door slides open, allowing me to open it and enter the hallway. White led lights turn on, illuminating my path to the next door. I speak the passcode as I walk toward it. “Elaine Everly.”

  The lock opens, and I open it, opening it to swing itself closed behind me. The lights in the warehouse flicker on, revealing weapons, drugs, and a plethora of other things that would probably get me a life sentence in solitary confinement if authorities ever discovered them.

  I’ve prepared a safe room for Anastasia’s stolen government weapon to be destroyed remotely. All I need to do is throw the suitcase inside, close the door, and flick a switch. After that, I can say goodbye to Phenolide-11. The gas shouldn’t cause much damage to the room, but I don’t think anyone will be going inside to clean it without a hazmat suit.

  “Where did I put you?” I mutter as I walk through the colossal stacks of wooden boxes, barrels, and tins.

  I scan the shelves for the suitcase. I placed it in plain sight without any instructions on where to find it, which makes it difficult for me to even find it. Everything in this warehouse looks the same. It’s easy to get lost and lose track of where you’ve been.

  Finally, the glint of the heavy silver clasps that hold the suitcase closed catch my eye, and I pull it from the shelf. I had stacked it on top of a few boxes of guns, almost like it’s the kind of weapons, sitting atop its iron throne.

  “You’re going bye-bye,” I say to the suitcase as I lug it toward the room to destroy it. This gas is heavier than I thought it would be, but it’s probably mostly the suitcase that’s giving me so much grief. It’s probably bulletproofed even though it looks normal. That would explain the thickness of it.

  I get to the destruction room and walk inside, placing the suitcase down in the dead center and unlatching the clasps that hold the canisters inside. I take them out, handling them as though they were little baby chicks, and I place them in a row on the smooth concrete floor.

  When I’m done, I remove the suitcase and seal the door shut so that none of the gas leaks out. There’s a thick glass window that I can watch the chemical toxin get defused through, next to the control center where I can fire the canister-piercing darts with.

  I gaze into the room, leaning over the control panel as I study the curious little gray canisters. Who would have thought that something so small could be so much trouble? They remind me of Elaine.

  I chuckle to myself as I aim the dart gun mounted in the corner of the room at the canisters. I’ll have to pierce each one individually, but I make a bit of a game out of it to see if I can put the dart at such an angle that I can go through more than one at once.

  Once I’m satisfied with my aim, I place my finger on the red firing button, feeling the cool plastic on my sweaty skin. I’m nervous about destroying these canisters, but it’s for the greater good. Phenolide-11 has already proved deadly in the wrong hands, and I don’t want anyone else to use it. It’s time to do the right thing and destroy this evil creation.

  I mash my finger into the red button and hear the satisfying whizz of the dart flying from the gun mounted in the corner. I don’t even see the dart fly through the air because it’s so fast, but instead of the leak of colored gas from the canister, I’m met with something I never expected – a deafening sound, breaking glass, and the bright white light of an explosion.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Elaine

  Safety first, right?

  That’s why I’ve snuck a pregnancy test into the bathroom with me. Maybe it’s paranoia, but I’ve been feeling nauseous lately, and my breasts just don’t feel right. I always know when something’s not right with my body, and the past few days have been a lot of that feeling.

  Was I stupid to have sex with a mafia boss unprotected? Yep, yes, and definitely yeah. I wasn’t thinking at all. I was trying to prove to myself that I was desirable, and what better way to do that than to hook up with the hottest man I can find?

  That’s all well and good, but actions have consequences. I just hope mine aren’t that severe. I’m still stuck in Russia, and Nikolai might not make the best father, even if he is gentler than someone on the outside would think.

  I tear open the white and purple box, yanking the pregnancy test out like it owes me money. The instructions are in Russian, but I know how to use it. I’ve taken one of these a few times before when I was still dating my ex. Thank god, he never managed to knock me up.

  I can feel the pulse in my fingers as I hold the white plastic between my thumb and index finger. If someone had told me that I would be in Russia taking a pregnancy test for a mafia boss’s potential baby, I would have called them crazy. In reality, I’m the one who’s crazy for getting myself into this.

  I do what I need to do, staying seated on the toilet while I wait for the result to come in. I place the pregnancy test on the edge of the sink and sit with my head in my hands, groaning as I mash my cheeks in with my palms. I’m so stupid. God, I’m so fucking stupid.

  Alright, whatever happens, you’re going to get through this.

  Of course, and then Nikolai is going to ship me back to the United States and never speak to me again. Even if I am pregnant, he’ll do it. In fact, I fear things could be worse than that, but that’s not something I want to think about. I’ve already decided that I won’t tell him even if I am pregnant. It would be better for the baby that way.

  I glance at the test, but I’m too afraid to pick it up just yet. It doesn’t take long to get accurate results, but I want to be certain of them the second I look. I’m going to be in so much trouble if I’m pregnant, and this is a defining moment in my life.

  I take a deep breath, snatch the menacing white pregnancy test from the edge of the sink, and hold it up to my eyes.

  Two dark pink lines.

  “Fuck,” I exclaim in a loud whisper. I grab the empty box and flip it over, scanning the informat
ion on the back to check if two lines mean the same thing in Russia as they do in the United States. There’s still a chance that I’ll get out of this cleanly.

  Nope. The two pink lines are a certain indication that I’m pregnant.

  It’s not that I don’t want to have a baby. I would love to, but Nikolai is a mafia boss. How can I possibly raise it with him? It’s not possible, and that means I’m going to be a single mother with a career I also have to keep up with.

  I groan, planting my face in my hands again.

  There’s a knock on the door, jarring me back upright.

  “Hello?” I call out.

  “Hey, it’s Nikolai. Are you interested in doing something special tonight?” His voice is deep and muffled, but I detect a hint of something unusual in it.

  “Yeah, sure,” I call out, praying that he’ll go away. I don’t even care what he’s talking about. I have to make myself presentable and trash this pregnancy test before he finds out about it.

  “Well, that was easy. Don’t you want to know what my plans are?”

  Dammit, Nikolai. Get the fuck away from the bathroom door, and leave me in peace. “Of course, I do. I just want to finish my business, and I’ll be all ears.”

  “Alright,” he says after a pause, and then I hear the sound of his footsteps on the thick carpet outside, walking away.

  I let out a sigh of relief. I need to make myself appear calm, and this isn’t the time for Nikolai to be doing special things, whatever that means. I just want to figure out what the hell I’m going to do about my pregnancy, hopefully after I’m safely back home in the United States.

  I get up from the toilet and place the pregnancy test back into the box, wrapping the whole thing up in toilet paper, and I shove it under some random bits of trash in the bin under the sink. I hope that will be good enough to hide it from Nikolai, but I doubt he’s the one who takes out the trash. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a maid come through the headquarters once or twice before.