Fixing Broken Hearts

by Raven Rivers

  The young girl thunked her text books down onto the kitchen table. Snagging a carrot, she nibbled off a bite before answering. “You probably don’t want to see what they did to Donovan’s garden gnomes.”

  Stilling the chef’s knife above her cutting block of veggies, Cassandra frowned. “Why can’t they leave that old man alone?”

  “He’s going to freak out when he gets home.”

  Turning, Cassandra tiptoed up to look out her side window. Spinning around to look at her stepdaughter, she groaned. “I can’t believe they did that.”

  “Neither could Dad. He said he’s blistering their backsides.”

  “We can fix this.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Just then, a car pulled up the side driveway. Cassandra closed her eyes, waiting for the stream of profanities she knew was coming.

  “What the bloody hell is going on around here? Has the entire world gone absolutely barking mad? Where are those two miscreants?”

  Cassandra grabbed a kitchen towel and began wiping her hands as she headed outside. Seeing the havoc her little ones had wrought was embarrassing. All his absurd little gnomes were rearranged into two tiny armies. Tons of toy guns were littering the ground around them and her little ones had strewn the area with novelty toilet paper covered in colorful Russian flags.

  Before she could get a word out, the older man straightened. The effect of his nicely tailored designer suit was always ruined by the fancy little cravat he wore in a bright contrasting color. His salt and pepper hair and large walrus mustache always made it difficult to keep a straight face when she spoke to the ridiculous man. Smothering back the smile, she opened her mouth to speak. Before the words escaped her lips, his accusing voice rang out.

  “What the bloody hell is wrong with your boys?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Why she was indignant when her family was totally in the wrong, she didn’t know.

  “Those two little curtain climbing rug rats of yours are obsessed with my garden gnomes.”

  “We’re real sorry…”

  Scooping up one lovingly in his arms, he stepped closer to her. “They’re imported, you know.”

  Blinking at him, she tried to understand his train of thought. “I did not know that.”

  A broad wave of his hand towards his back garden drew her notice. “You’re the only family hell bent on destroying the summer holiday in our close knit little community.”

  Shaking her head, Cassandra asked, “Are you sure you’re not overreacting just a bit?”

  Snorting a laugh, the older man eyed her suspiciously. “You’re a pretty little thing to be hitched to the ugly Russian.”

  Sighing, she shot him a mock glare. “Now you’re just trying to piss me off.”

  A hint of a smile ghosted across his face. “Sure you don’t want to slip over enemy lines?” Batting his eyes like a lady, he cooed, “You might find that you enjoy an occasional cup of tea and a crumpet, love.”

  Cassandra couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “You are bizarrely appealing in your own very strange way, but no. I’ll stick with my Russian for now.”

  “If you ever change your mind, just whistle and I’ll come running.”

  Viktor’s angry growl split the air.

  Cassandra looked apologetic. “Might I suggest you get with the running a little early?”

  They both glanced at Viktor barreling across the lawn and Donovan took a step back. “Might not be a bad suggestion, little mum. Catch you later.”

  Cassandra blinked and he was somehow simply gone. Viktor barely stopped when he got to her. Scooping her off her feet, he spun on his heel and walked right back to the house. “I do not like that man.”

  Draping her arms around his neck, Cassandra murmured soothingly, “He harmless.”

  “You bat your pretty eyes and men turn into fools.”

  “You have got to be kidding me. I talked him down from the ledge.”

  “This whole being in a normal neighborhood so the little ones can play with other children was not your best idea, moy kotenok.”

  “Well, I didn’t know we were raising little Russian hitmen when I made it.” Cassandra could hear her own indignation was back with a vengeance and she couldn’t bring herself to quite care.

  Viktor snorted a laugh. “You exaggerate.”

  “Our sons are going to be doctors or lawyers.”

  “I’d rather have hitmen than lawyers for sons.” From the tone of Viktor’s voice she couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

  “I know all too well your feelings about lawyers being the scum of the universe.”

  “They can be hitmen or doctors, this I have already explained to them.”

  Gasping, she jerked his neck. “You did not tell our sons they could be hitmen. Tell me you didn’t say that!”

  The low, rumbling laughter was back. “You are easy to mess with, moy kotenok.”

  Relaxing a little, she smiled up at her handsome husband. “Wait, where is everyone?”

  “Your mother picked them up while you were batting your eyes at Donovan.”

  Rolling her eyes, she quipped, “Why do I suspect we are on our way to the bedroom?”

  “You are correct. It is my turn to enjoy your undivided attention.

  “I’m seven months pregnant.”

  His gaze heated as he began to climb the stairs. “Yes. This I know. I plan to worship the soft, rounded body that houses my child so well. I like that you grow extra curves when you are with child.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “I have been thinking of myself as the lucky one.”

  Sitting her gently on the bed, Viktor began pulling his clothing off. Somehow, seeing his muscular torso and bulging biceps still made her mouth go dry. “Watching you undress is one of my favorite activities.

  Sometimes I think about demanding that you get dressed just so I can see you get undressed again.”

  Laughing again, Viktor responded seductively, “I believe you like me naked most of all.” When he stepped forward, she scrambled backwards across the king-size bed. Grasping one ankle, he pulled her back again. “Where do you think you are going, my sexy little sweet? Come, let Viktor unwrap his present.”

  Pretending to kick him away, she teased, “Hey, mister crazy pants, only maniacal super villains refer to themselves in the third person.”

  “Maniacal super villains and me, Viktor Balakovich.”

  He pulled off her yoga pants and t-shirt with very little effort and stood gazing at her sexy white lingerie.

  “You’re a funny guy, baby.” Instead of teasing, her voice sounded frustrated and needy, even to her own ears.

  Smoothing his hands over her round baby bump, he whispered, “There is only one.”

  Looking down, she replied with no small amount of relief, “Thank God for small favors. I don’t think I could handle twins again.”

  His head came up and his eyes pinned her in a hot stare. “I mean there is only one you. One you in the entire world. One you for me. One you that makes my life complete. I cannot be without you.”

  Cupping his face in her hands, she whispered, “I’m all yours. You know that.”

  “No having crumpets with Donovan.”

  Giggling, she responded adoringly, “I don’t even know what a crumpet is, baby.”

  Humor replaced the slight apprehension in his eyes. “Russian vatrushkas are much better. You will stick with them.”

  Biting her lip for a brief moment, she wondered where that came from. “I love how you phrase every question as a statement.”

  “Russian men are very dominant.” Smoothing his hands up, he shoved her bra above her breasts. Grasping it, he lifted it above her head and tossed it aside. “You look much better with no clothing, just lots of smooth brown skin for me to touch.”

  Swallowing hard, Cassandra racked her mind for a witty retort. Nothing came immediately to mind. Probably because Viktor had grasped the band of her delicate lace panties a
nd was pulling. Looking into his eyes, she heard the soft purr of the fabric split. With a flick of his hand, a bit of white lace went flying over his shoulder.

  “That was number seven hundred eighty-two in just five short years.”

  “It is your own fault for wearing undergarments, not mine for being a man.”

  Snorting a laugh at his childish logic, she knew his was teasing. She scrambled to grab the headboard when he crawled between her legs, slid his hands beneath her bottom, and began lifting her. She quickly slid her legs up his arms and his mouth made contact with her sensitive flesh in seconds. Viktor loved giving her the one thing other men usually complained about, and that was only one of the things that made her the luckiest woman alive. She kept her eyes on him as he expertly hit all the right notes to bring her to a crashing orgasm. It would be one of several that night, and one of thousands since he’d pulled her through the skylight that faithful night.

  Gently lowering her back to the soft mattress, he propped himself over her belly. Drawing lazy designs on her skin, he stopped occasionally to drop a few light kisses across her baby bump.

  Pulling him up, she wrapped her legs around his hips. Time to give it up one more time for the man who had sold her heart. He looked down at her as he slowly slid home. God, he felt so good. When he looked down at her with that adoring, possessive stare she loved so much, Cassandra smiled that the rough Russian mobster turned out to be her happily ever after.

  THE END

  Thank you for reading!

  If you enjoyed that, you’ll love:

  Mobster’s Fake Wife ( Russian Mobster Book 2 )

  Also from Raven Rivers:

  Click here for a list of all of Raven's Books on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited)

  Billionaire’s Hit List

  The Goldsmith’s Protector

  More than Business

  In The Crosshairs

  The Pretend Girlfriend

  Fake Date With the Billionaire

  The CEO Makes a Play

  To Texas With Love

  About the Author

  From her cozy apartment in upper Chicago, Raven pens her steamy interracial romances that are infused with spirituality and moral conflict.

  34-year-old Raven got her first story published ten years ago and hasn't stopped writing since!

  Her passion for crafting believable worlds and characters has never waned, and she hopes you'll enjoy her unique romance stories.

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