MAFIA: Dark Romance Collection

by Silver, Kiera

  He extended the purple laptop to her, and she immediately recognized the “Hello Kitty” stickers Tonya had placed on the lid, partially as a joke, and partially to liven up the bland equipment. “My laptop?”

  He nodded. “I believe you mentioned something about needing to finish orders to preserve your business?”

  She nodded, taking the unwieldy piece of equipment in both hands before setting it on the desk with exaggerated care. “There was some other equipment too. The headset and things? I don’t suppose you grabbed those?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t think about it. I’ll make sure you have the supplies you need if you make a list for me.”

  She traced her fingers over the edge of the laptop, feeling a dart of hope again. She could use this as a means to escape. She just had to figure out how. “You realize I need to work online?”

  He arched a brow. “Actually, you just need to download your files. I’ve already done so for you, and Internet access is disabled. Only I have the password, and I’ll download and upload your files and your emails for you each day. I’m sure you understand why I can’t give you complete trust and unfettered access to the Internet, but as long as your communications go through me, you’ll be able to communicate with your clients and your friends and family. Just remember I’ll be reading everything.”

  Could he really read everything? After all, her business was translating documents from English to Spanish or French, or some combination thereof. Perhaps she could slip in a message for help in someone’s document that she was translating into French or Spanish. “That’s a bit disconcerting. Some of the things I work with are highly confidential.”

  He snorted softly. “If anyone can keep a secret, lisichka, it’s me. You don’t have to worry about me violating your clients’ privilege or whatever you call it in your line of work. I’ve already read through the documents awaiting you, and there’s nothing particularly sensitive in any of them—unless you consider translating erotica from Spanish to English a highly classified matter.”

  Her cheeks felt warm as she flushed. “A job’s a job. I have several author clients who pay me to translate their books to prepare for sale in foreign markets.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back, looking relaxed. “I’m not making any judgments, Tara. I couldn’t care less what you’re translating as long as it’s nothing dangerous, and you aren’t trying to betray me. I suppose I should tell you now that I’m fluent in French and Spanish, along with English, Russian, Japanese, and German.”

  Her eyes widened at the information, and she was torn between annoyance and a hint of excitement. The languages he’d listed were all of interest to her, and she was unable to stop the urge to imagine him teaching her the languages in interesting and intimate ways. Still, deciding to test him, she threw out a phrase Spanish. It was an obscure saying, and she was disgruntled when he translated it with no issue. He did the same with French, and then he countered with something in German.

  She glared at him. “I don’t speak German.”

  He grinned, looking smug. “I was just suggesting in that ever so melodious language that we make another attempt at vulnerable tonight, if you’re up for it?”

  She tipped her head sideways, pretending to think about it. “I suppose I’m up for it, but only on one condition.”

  He frowned. “What condition?” It was clear he didn’t like having stipulations or addendums added to his sex play.

  “On the condition that you speak only Russian to me and translate it. I want to learn your language.”

  His tension visibly faded, and he nodded his agreement. “I’d be happy to teach you everything I know, lisichka.” The hunger in his eyes and the latent sexual overtone made it clear he wasn’t talking about language lessons—or at least not just languages.

  * * *

  Later, after a more successful attempt at open and vulnerable, with a tender lovemaking session behind them, she lay in his arms and dared to give in to the curiosity that prompted her to ask, “Why did you do it?”

  “Do what?” He smothered a yawn, obviously on the cusp of sleep.

  She curled her hand, lying atop the rose tattoo on his chest, into a loose fist. “Why did you kill that man?” It was oddly soothing to be touching the symbol of his bratva membership. She couldn’t see it in the dark, but she had traced the intricate red and black rose with her fingers and tongue at least a hundred times and knew exactly where it was on his body—just a few inches lower and centered between the two stars on his chest that indicated he was a high-ranking vory.

  He stiffened, and his voice no longer sounded sleepy. It went to arctic in a flash. “He disobeyed me about something very important.”

  She sighed. “Something important enough to be worth his death?”

  “He was defying my orders to stop bringing in sex slaves, lisichka. I considered that important enough to kill him, so yes.”

  Her eyes widened at the knowledge, and she was glad for the darkness that hid her shock. “You don’t like that sort of thing?”

  Alexei cursed softly before turning onto his side, jerking her against him roughly. “Of course I don’t. I’ve hated that side of our business since long before I was the Sovietnik or acting Pakhan. I promised myself I’d see it ended, and I’m almost there. Only the defiance of Slava and his enclave have prevented me from completely eradicating the sale of humans in our city, at least by the Russians. The Italians still consider it a viable and lucrative business.”

  His harsh tone softened slightly, and he began to stroke her back in small circles. “You don’t understand our way of life, but there are rules and protocols in place for a reason. Order must be maintained, and you must show proper respect to those above you. Refusing a direct order is a death sentence in the vory v. zakone, lisichka. If I hadn’t dealt harshly with Slava, it would have undermined my authority and left me ripe to a coupe.”

  “I see.” Strangely, she did. Tara wasn’t all right with him dispensing his method of justice so ruthlessly, but she understood what he was saying. And it was difficult to muster sympathy for the murder of scum that would sell his fellow humans. “Do you kill a lot of people, Lyosha?” His nickname still felt strange on her tongue, but she liked how it sounded, and how it reinforced the bond developing between them.

  “I do what I must, and that’s all you need to know. It’s my duty to shield you from that side of our life.”

  She wanted to protest his words as chauvinistic, but she held back the objection. What bothered her even more was his protective attitude and the way he’d casually referred to it as “our” life. It seemed to indicate he was fitting her neatly into a compartment somewhere in his regimented life, obviously certain she was settling in to the fate thrust upon her and wouldn’t continue to fight him.

  Most alarmingly, she couldn’t tell herself he was wrong with absolute certainty. In moments like these, lying in his arms and feeling more cherished and adored than she ever had with anyone before, she couldn’t muster more than a lukewarm enthusiasm for finding a way to escape back to the life she’d before.

  He was changing her, and it should terrify her. Instead, she soon surrendered to a dreamless, restful sleep.

  Chapter Six

  Time slipped away before she realized it, and soon she had been in his home for nearly a month. A week after the conversation about Slava, he had moved her into his room, and she enjoyed almost as much freedom as she would have had she been there completely voluntarily. If she’d been his fully willing lover, she still would have been subjected to byki like Yuri and Stepan and increased security measures, though she would have been able to use her phone without his presence, and she wouldn’t have had him vetting her emails daily.

  She still resented the intrusion and the lack of trust, but she didn’t want to push their tentative truce. Tara hadn’t even decided if she was completely trustworthy to keep his secret if she escaped, or if he grew laxer with her
security and screenings. Would she try to escape? If she did, she couldn’t visualize herself reporting Slava’s murder, but she hadn’t brought it up with him again or made any promises about not doing so.

  Bluntly, she didn’t want to. Not because she didn’t think he’d believe her, but because she thought he might. If he trusted her completely, he might decide it was safe to let her go back to her old life.

  Her stagnant, boring, mostly solitary life that revolved around a younger sister who was so self-absorbed that she hadn’t bothered to call or email the entire time Tara had been Alexei’s lover/captive. The thought of returning to her apartment and the life she’d led before held little appeal.

  But so did confessing that to Alexei. She didn’t know how to feel or how to proceed. If she admitted she was feeling something…more for her captor, did that obligate her to embrace his lifestyle? It would possibly pave the way for something more real and lasting between them, but she wasn’t ready to take that step.

  She might never be.

  That was why it was wiser to maintain homeostasis, to gloss over the cracks in their relationship and embrace the pretense that she was here of her own volition, and that he wouldn’t prevent her from trying to leave if she decided to do so. Her life was a gigantic pretense, except for the nights. There was honest, real, and intensely full of passion and emotion between them, and it was the one place she never held back. She didn’t think he did either.

  It was only daylight that diluted the purity of the nights and brought renewed doubts and fears. In spite of the uncertainty of the situation, she was surprisingly happy. Being with Alexei and his family made her happier than she’d ever been, and she didn’t want to leave.

  When Alexei first appeared on the patio where she was working, her phone in his hand, she didn’t think much of it. With him hovering nearby, she’d occasionally made or accepted phone calls the last couple of weeks for business-related purposes, and a couple of times trying to reach her sister, who still hadn’t called her back. She was trying not to worry and allow Tonya the time she was insistent upon needing. It was only his grim expression that clued her in to a problem.

  He sat at the table beside her on the other wrought iron bistro chair, still holding her phone. When she held out her hand for it, he didn’t relinquish the device. She frowned at him. “What’s going on?”

  Alexei sighed, still not giving her the cell phone. “Your sister texted you this morning around three a.m. I didn’t tell you when I found the message later this morning, because I wanted to check out some things first.”

  Her stomach clenched, and she prepared herself for the worst. “What’s wrong with her? Is she all right?”

  Alexei lifted his shoulder as he finally passed over her phone, the text message already opened. She read aloud the cryptic communiqué with a frown. “Meet me at “Evelyn’s Bar” between seven and seven-forty-five p.m. It’s the only time I can get away. Please be there.” She looked at Alexei. “She signed it with her name, but that’s not her phone number unless she’s changed it.”

  He nodded, pointing to the phone. “There’s a second message too.”

  She scrolled down, eyes widening as she saw the next part of the message, sent eight minutes after the first one. It read: Don’t reply to this message. If he knows I used his phone, he’ll kill me. With a gasp, she set her phone on the table and clutched his hand. “What did you find out? You said you looked into something. What was it?”

  “I sent Yuri to check on her, and she hasn’t been hanging out with her friends or been to your apartment for the last week or so, according to the neighbors. She hadn’t been coming into the club either, but I didn’t know that ‘til today. To be honest, I didn’t really notice until I started checking to see if she was all right and realized she hadn’t been there. Tonya didn’t bother to call in, and she didn’t show the nights she was scheduled. Your sister has never done that, even when she was out of her mind on heroin.”

  She nodded, finding it a strange juxtaposition about her sister, who could be the world’s shallowest, flightiest girl, but had an amazing work ethic even when she was a drug addict. She wouldn’t have missed work without calling unless something was very wrong. “I have to go tonight to meet her. Please, Alexei?”

  He scowled. “I’ll go.”

  She glared at him. “She asked me to come for her, and she’s my sister. I need to do this. Don’t you think you can trust me enough for this? You’ll be right there with me, won’t you?”

  His expression softened slightly, though he still looked stern. “It’s not a matter of trust, lisichka. I simply won’t have you endangered, and we’re going into the situation blind. It’s out of the question that you come along.”

  “No, it’s out of the question that you’re trying to cut me out of this. If it were your sister or Lev, you would want to be there.”

  He nodded. “It’s a different matter though.”

  “Why? Because you’re a man?” she asked sarcastically.

  “No, because I know how to handle myself and defend myself. I can use a gun. Can you?”

  Slowly, reluctant to affirm his assumption, she shook her head. “No, I can’t use a gun, but it doesn’t matter.”

  He harrumphed at her. “Your safety and protection doesn’t matter? And you wonder why I’m not letting you go?”

  “It doesn’t matter because you’ll be there to protect me.”

  His shoulders sagged slightly, and he heaved a sigh. “Fine. You can come, but you’re waiting in the car.”

  “Yes, Lyosha.” She spoke meekly, wanting to assure him she would obey his dictate about staying in the car. Whether she actually did or not depended on the situation when she got there, but since she had just gained his agreement, she didn’t want to risk having him change his mind.

  “So obedient.” His lips twitched. “That’s not very convincing.” He spoke indulgently, though his eyes were still shadowed with concern. “All bullshit aside, Tara, I expect you to listen if I tell you something tonight. Do you understand me?”

  She met his gaze, keeping her expression open. She nodded her agreement, and she fully intended to try to follow his directions, because he knew far more about this sort of situation than she did. She also knew that he wasn’t as emotionally invested in her sister, simply because he couldn’t be. His top priority would likely be keeping Tara safe, while her top priority would be extricating her little sister from whatever mess she’d entangled herself in this time.

  * * *

  It was late spring, and the days were growing longer, but it was still almost dark by the time they were in place at “Evelyn’s,” which turned out to be a seedy little bar on the opposite side of the city, near the harbor. Alexei had the driver stop the limousine across the street, where they were afforded a clear view of the front of the bar, thanks to some sort of tinting on the window that completely obscured the view in, while allowing a clear view outward.

  They sat there for five minutes with no sign of anyone coming or going before she shifted restlessly on the seat beside him. “I have to go in, Alexei. She’s expecting me, and she’s probably inside.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not going in there, Tara. I won’t have you in harm’s way. I’ll go see if I spot her. She knows me, and she’ll definitely recognize me from the club, since I’m her employer. I’ll bring her out to you.”

  She was about to continue arguing when a slight figure suddenly appeared on the sidewalk, shoulders hunched in a defensive posture that suggested the person was trying to protect him or herself. As the figure grew closer to the light pole near the front of the bar, her red hair came into view, and there was no mistaking it was Tonya. She paused just inside the circle of light cast from the streetlamp, still hugging herself as she looked up and around, her eyes scanning the area in search of something. In search of her, Tara knew.

  When she saw the bruises on her sister’s face, anger consumed her, and she wrenched open the door and scramble
d out before Alexei could stop her. She heard him cursing behind her as he clambered from the car, and she broke into a run, partially fleeing him, but mostly reassured that he was only a step behind her and had her back.

  He reached her a second after she reached Tonya, and he was cursing heavily. She ignored him, batting away the hand he tried to put on her shoulder as she grasped her sister’s upper arms gently before pulling her into a hug. “What happened to you, baby?”

  Tonya sniffled, and suddenly she was crying ugly tears, the kind that shook her body and had her making rasping, sobbing noises with every inhalation and exhalation.

  Alexei put his hand on Tara’s shoulder, and this time she didn’t shrug him away. She appreciated having his presence, especially when she saw what someone had done to her little sister. She had no doubt Alexei would deal with the matter. “What happened?” she asked again as she eased away from her sister enough to take the handkerchief Alexei extended and use it to wipe her sister’s face. She was gentle around the bruises, wincing when she saw the seriously split lip that must have made it difficult to eat, talk, or drink. “Who did this to you?”

  Tonya’s lips wobbled, and she shot an uncertain glance at Alexei before looking back at Tara. “You brought my boss into this?”

  Tara’s hackles rose at the snippy tone, but she struggled to stay calm. Before she could reply, Alexei put his arm around her waist, his hand on her hip. “What affects Tara affects me.” He spoke forcefully and confidently, making it plain that he wasn’t there for Tonya but for her. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed at the macho display or to be pleased that he was making it so clear to her sister that Tara was the primary concern for him.

  Tara blinked, her shock almost laughable. “You’re with Alexei Varnakov? No way.”

  “Why not?” barked Alexei before she could ask the same question.

  Despite her own personal troubles, Tonya apparently could still indulge in a moment of amusement, because she giggled slightly before wincing when her lip split further. “It’s just my sister is such a goody-goody, Mr. Varnakov. It’s impossible to imagine her with anyone like you. I mean, her last boyfriend was an IRS auditor, for chrissakes.” She giggled again. “You’ve gone from tax inquisition to tax evasion, sis.”