Owned by the Mob Boss

by Ashley Hall

  Horrified, I gasped. “What happened?” I asked, not wanting to hear the answer because I was afraid he’d push me away. Whenever I asked about his day or his past, there was a chance he wouldn’t answer. Right now, I wanted to be close to him, to have a reason to stay.

  Ivan glowered and shook his head. “Nothing,” he said, brushing it off like I knew he would.

  “It’s not nothing,” I insisted. How could he dare act like nothing was wrong? Did he think I was stupid? That I was a doormat? That I’d just sit back and listen to him and not care that he was hurt? Deep down, I figured this had something to do with his mob connection, but seriously he shouldn’t act like this was nothing. “You’re bleeding and your clothes—”

  “I’ll rinse off the blood and then come for you,” he said. And he walked on past me, as if that settled things, as if I should just be willing to accept that.

  Annoyed and disgruntled, I made my way up to my room and sat on the edge of my bed. What else could I do? I wanted to wash away the blood for him, to tend to him, to ask questions and for him to confide in me, but that wasn’t my place. I was separate from that part of his life—as separate as I could be as I thought back to the man who had accosted me. At least that had only been a one-time occurrence, although I still had nightmares about him sometimes. Ivan was clearly drawing a line.

  But why? We had been growing close, a lot closer than just those in a business arrangement. What had changed his mind? Why the need for space? Despite his being closed off, I couldn’t deny that he had wormed past my defenses. I cared about him more than I should. I wanted to be there for him.

  Which made it all the more frustrating that he wouldn’t open up completely to me. Did he think I didn’t realize that he had a mob connection? Of course I did! Didn’t he see that my still being here despite being used to threaten him should mean something.

  Bottom line, did he respect me? I knew that had nothing to do with our business deal, but I wanted his respect. Somehow, along the way, I had fallen for him. His talk about the future of his son, what he wanted out of life…he had a lot of the same desires and goals that I would have if I had a son of my own to raise. His job notwithstanding, he had the potential to be a great man.

  Potential that wasn’t realized and might never be realized. Maybe I shouldn’t stay here, waiting for Ivan. What was the point? Giving him this child would fulfill his desires, but was that in the child’s best interests? I never regretted my hastiness in agreeing to all of this more than I did right now, in this moment. Seeing Ivan hurt brought the terrible nature of his dark world crashing home to me. As much as I wanted to believe in the future he talked about for his son, I knew it was impossible. His son would be stuck in that same dark world that had hurt Ivan, that same dark world that made Ivan so desperate to have an heir.

  Because Ivan was afraid he was going to die and soon, and given the threat, that was a very genuine and necessary fear. I didn’t know how exactly he planned on responding, but he was trying to make a contingency plan if he didn’t win.

  He wanted a legacy to leave behind. Even though that legacy would be sucked up in that same darkness. Even though his son might be left without a father. Even though his son would be threatened too, maybe even killed too.

  Ivan was being selfish by wanting to bring a child into the world so badly. And I was being greedy and selfish myself to have agreed to help him.

  Only a few days ago, I had visited my mom. She had been up and about, looking happier and healthier than I had seen her in a long time. There were no lingering aftereffects of her recent fall and trip to the hospital. My mom and her nurse were getting on like the best of friends. Clara’s husband had also died, so they had plenty to bond over. Clara had been telling my mom stories about the few disaster of dates she had gone on in the past few years when I arrived. They had been laughing so hard that they didn’t hear me open the door. The picture of my mom being so happy, of actually having color in her face instead of being so drawn and pale all the time gave me hope. I had agreed to this craziness because of her. She needed me. I was stuck.

  Or was I? Did I really have to stay here and fulfill my end of the agreement? The more I weighed our agreement versus what was best for the baby, I didn’t know how I could stay. Yes, I needed the money for my mom, and if I did run, I would have to take my mom with and that would mean a new doctor and new tests and a new home.

  On the other hand, could I really contemplate running away knowing about Ivan’s connection to the mob? He would track me down and drag me back here—and it wouldn’t be to take me to bed. He was a man who got what he wanted. He would not take well to betrayal, and running would be betrayal.

  What could I do?

  My bedroom door opened, and Ivan strolled in, kicking the door shut behind him. He had changed his shirt, and not a trace of blood remained on him. He sure knew how to clean up blood, and that was almost more terrifying than the sight of him wounded.

  “Ivan.” I shakily climbed to my feet and rubbed my arms. Why did I suddenly feel so cold? I swallowed hard and suppressed a cough.

  He stared at me, his expression unreadable, his eyes half closed.

  “Do you work for the mob?” I asked in a rush. I knew he did, but maybe I needed to hear it. We had talked about a great many things, but his work was one subject we never broached, and I was tired of that. I wasn’t a fragile egg. I wouldn’t break. I might run, but I wouldn’t break.

  “Why would it matter?” he asked matter-of-factly, his expression not changing.

  I gaped at him. Seriously? He came home all bloodied and maybe with a broken nose, and he expected me to just turn a blind eye? Of course it mattered! I needed to know what he was capable of. Yes, he had grand plans for his son, but he would want his son to follow in the family business. What did he expect of his son? I had no illusions that Ivan would change who he was for me, but seriously, couldn’t he see what the mob was doing to him? He was so blind by the need to have an heir quickly that he wasn’t thinking about the danger that his child would be in since he was obviously in danger himself. If he could just focus on that, on his son and his son’s future, maybe then he might be willing to change.

  “And you’re one to talk,” he continued, his eyes narrowing. “You’re the one selling your own child.”

  How dare he! I didn’t even stop to think. I just slapped him as hard as I could.

  His fingers closed around my wrist, and he pushed me back toward the bed. His eyes were dark, and I had never seen him quite like this before. For the first time since I walked up to him in the bar, I was terrified of Ivan.

  He leaned down close to me. “I killed a man tonight,” he uttered, his tone dark.

  To say I was horrified would be an understatement. He killed a man? Why was he telling me this? Yes, I had wanted him to open up, but not to hear something like this.

  How the hell had I ended up here, and how the hell was I going to get out of this mess? And get out of it alive?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ivan

  Earlier today, after I ate lunch but before I called Alec, I had gone to the bathroom using Rachel’s bathroom. It wasn’t something I typically did, considering just how many bathrooms there were in the house. But I had, and I noticed that one of the pregnancy boxes had been opened.

  Rachel had taken a test. And while it was possible it was negative, I doubted that was the case. I had noticed for a few days now, when palming her breasts, just how full they were getting, larger than before, and it wasn’t from weight gain, as far as I could tell. Plus, her skin looked even more beautiful too. She wasn’t the kind of girl to wear a ton of makeup. Compared to the other women I had been with over the years, that was a refreshing change, but it also made that change all the more noticeable. Her hair also looked thicker, fuller. All of these signs led me to believe that she was finally pregnant.

  But did she tell me she was pregnant? No. Did she even mention she had taken a test, regardless of the resu
lt? No.

  And here she was, questioning me about my job.

  Yeah, so I was pissed, and yeah, that was why I told her about killing the man. I wanted to rile her. I wanted to rage, but not against her. I had been attacked, and I had defended myself. And now I was being attacked by Rachel in a fashion too, and I did not want to have to defend myself against her.

  But I would if I had to.

  After I pushed her onto the bed, I pulled off her shorts and then lifted her tank top off over her head. Rachel didn’t resist and even lifted her butt to help me remove her shorts. She definitely didn’t look pregnant yet, but she did cover her abdomen with her arms, probably instinctively.

  “When were you going to tell me?” I asked in a low voice, staring at her flat stomach.

  Rachel glanced away. She took a shuddering breath, and tears streamed down her face. “I…I just found out. But…but I didn’t…I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  Something inside of me crumbled. I couldn’t explain what I was feeling, and I didn’t want to. There was something about her that drew me in. Maybe it was because she was good and kind. Maybe it was because she didn’t belong in my world. Maybe it was because she was the only woman who cared about me, not my looks or money or position.

  All I did was focus on her. Ignoring her tears, I kissed her. Much like how I had pushed her down, it was gentle and not too forceful. It was short, too, and maybe tender. A single kiss, one that broke me apart, shattering me. What was I doing with her? What was I doing to her? She was torn, I could tell, and frankly, so was I.

  Rachel kept on crying silently. In all honestly, she wasn’t obligated to have sex with me at all, and that notion had me pulling up and away from her.

  I cupped her cheeks and asked her with my eyes if she wanted this.

  Rachel stopped crying. She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and opened them again. She stared up at me, and I watched her, waiting for her reaction. If she pushed me away, I would respect her. I would leave and see to her medical care and follow out the rest of the contract with her from a respectful distance. We would revert to business partners.

  Revert to business partners. When had that line been crossed? Because we had sex more than the four-time limit? Because of the shared meals? Our conversations?

  All of it. And then some.

  Did I want to go back, to make things solely business between us? My hard, throbbing cock wanted her, but what did I want?

  I wanted her. Again and again. It was so easy for me to find women, but I never talked to them about anything important. I never talked to any of them about work, so in that regard, they were identical to Rachel, but I had confided in Rachel far more than any of the others. She knew which school I wanted to send my son to. She knew which tutors I had already lined up, which activities and sports I hoped he would partake in. She knew other matters too, like that I had a dog growing up and had thought many times about getting another one but never had. She knew I preferred to drive stick shift and was willing to teach her if she wished to learn. She knew my taste in movies and music, which was something I didn’t broadcast. I did not often make time for such trivialities, but we had actually watched a few movies together. And I had talked to her, albeit with hardly any details, about my parents. She understood loss. She didn’t look at me with pity but with sympathy.

  My time with her was changing me.

  But was that a good thing? I could not risk being softened. I had to be hard, to be brutal, to be ruthless, if I were to have my revenge. Afterward, we could watch movies and listen to music and dance and fuck all we wanted. After. Not yet. Not now.

  Yes, I did want her around. She kept me in touch with my humanity. She would help prevent me from becoming the monster Vanya Golovkin was. Maybe I shouldn’t go after his family after all. Should one family rise and grow on the bones of another? It was what Golovkin had done to my family. Did I want to be the same as him? Having Alec seduce a daughter was one thing, but could I really have her and the others killed to get back at Golovkin? Before, that hadn’t been a question. Now, however, I was rethinking things.

  If Golovkin made a move on me, I would not hesitate to defend myself and my people, but he hadn’t. Yes, I was sure that was only a matter of time. I hadn’t gained my father’s men by waiting around, though. I tended to act first. Better to plan and strike than to be hit first and be left scrambling to defend yourself.

  But my son would be here in eight or so months. That changed everything. I didn’t know what to do, what to plan, but I knew I would not hesitate to give my life to protect my son’s.

  And to protect Rachel’s too.

  I stared at her, at her beauty. After a moment, she reached up, and I steeled myself, anticipating another slap.

  Instead, she caressed my cheek.

  I nuzzled against her palm and turned toward her hand to kiss her. Rachel sighed, the sound happy and content, and something inside of me wound up tightly.

  Nothing would happen to her. Nothing would ever happen to Rachel or to the child she carried. Boy or girl. Nothing would ever happen to Rachel after she gave birth. I would protect her like she was family.

  How had this happened? Rachel was never supposed to be anything more than a uterus to me. And I knew that sounded terrible, but it had been meant to keep her safe. Involving a woman in my life specifically with the intent of impregnating her meant she could possibly be targeted as it was, but if that woman should actually mean something more to me like Rachel did, that introduced a whole new level of terror that could be brought down on both her and me. One of Golovkin’s man had already tailed her, followed her, instructed her to give me a threating message. She was already in the crosshairs. If Golovkin should learn she was pregnant…I was willing to kill a dozen or even more to protect her.

  I hadn’t meant to fall for her. With all of my carefully laid out plans, the idea of that happening had never occurred to me. But she brought out a side of me that I hadn’t thought still lived. A part of me—the carefree and easygoing side—had died when my parents had. I used to enjoy my studies, but I had friends and enjoyed fun and games. After their deaths, I went almost a year before I laughed again. I gave up my school, left behind my friends, and went into hiding. I didn’t bother to make new friends. I didn’t bother to have fun or to enjoy life. All I did was work hard on honing my skills and daydreaming and planning for the day when I would take down Golovkin.

  Yet here Rachel was, bringing it back to life. Bringing me back to the light.

  My life was darkness, though, every part of it. I dealt with drugs and fights. I was a mob boss for fuck’s sake! If I gave in to her, gave in to the light, I would lose my edge, and losing my edge could get me killed.

  Could get her killed.

  Could get our child killed.

  I refused to let that happen. That would never happen. Not on my watch.

  My chest was feeling tight. Nervous. Uneasy. On edge. I hadn’t felt like this since the day my parents had been murdered and my life was forever changed.

  Rachel sat up and stripped me. Once I was naked, she removed her bra and undies. She traced my lips with her finger, and I kissed it. Her eyes closed, and I brought her finger into my mouth, sucking it. I would make myself forget my worries. I would make her forget everything too. We didn’t need anything but each other.

  She was pregnant, not made of glass, but things were different this time around. I took things slowly, gently, tenderly. It wasn’t about fucking. It wasn’t about the money.

  The kisses, the licks, the tiny bites, the rubbing, the scratches, the touching…neither of us could get enough of each other, and I didn’t last long at all, but as soon as we finished round one, round two started.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Rachel

  Not the way I had planned things. At all. Ivan had stared down at me, and for once, his face was so easy to read. I could see how much he cared for me. His eyes had even trailed down to my belly, and it hadn’t been
to admire my body. He already cared about the child I was carrying. He was frightened, and that frightened me all the more. What was he afraid of and for whom? Himself? His child?

  His nose was still swollen and bruised. It served as a visual reminder of the danger he was in, of the danger the baby and I could be in, and his nose had been the last thing I saw before I closed my eyes when we finished having sex.

  This time had been goodbye. This time had been the last time. I couldn’t stay. I just couldn’t. I might have fallen for him, but that wasn’t enough. I had to run. For the baby’s sake. It didn’t matter if Ivan had bodyguards. It didn’t matter that he assigned some to me. The baby would always be in danger if I stayed.

  My eyes fluttered closed and I fell asleep in Ivan’s arms. More times than not, I fell asleep in his arms afterward, and it was going to be something I’d miss. Despite his job, despite his mysterious side, I always felt safe in his embrace.