Sitting fully on the edge of his desk, she leaned back on to her arms. “I think I can guess what you are, judging by the gun, the obvious wealth,” she waved her hand out in gesture to the row of cars sitting in the back lot out his window. “And not to mention your conversation you had with my father the other day.”
He didn’t say anything he just kept that enigmatic smile.
“I really don’t see the issue here, you’re single,” Dimitri more than happily confirmed that fact. “I think you’re incredibly sexy and we had a lot of fun yesterday. Besides, of course, the part where you cheated me out of an opportunity to upgrade my car,” she felt satisfaction when she caught the whisper of amusement pass through his eyes at the memory before he quickly concealed it. “I have to warn you Mr. Mashir,” she said, standing up now to face him, forcing him to look up at her. “I’m very persistent. I will get you to like me.
For a moment he said nothing, he simply glanced out the window towards the river before finally standing from his chair. Towering above her, Roman looked down at her directly.
“I can guarantee you, I won’t,” his deep accent purred at the words nearly causing her to shut her eyes to savor the wonderful sound.
Rising to her feet until she was practically on pointed toes, she stared at him nearly at eye level. “Challenge accepted.”
Chapter 3
Mosca Nobokev had been working for Roman for four years now and not once had he ever seen the boss like this before.
Once the odd girl left, Mosca made sure to hang near Roman’s office, partly because it was his job to be at the boss’s side, but mostly out of pure interest. In less than twenty-four hours, the young woman seemed to have made indelible marks on Roman’s life. From escaping through windows, boldly arguing, and barging in unannounced, Mosca could safely say that Rahina Chopra was nothing like any of the other women he had seen Roman with.
Standing silently down the small connecting hall that led to Roman’s office, it didn’t surprise Mosca that Dimitri suddenly appeared next to him with an excited look of expectation. Mosca already knew the captain wanted to know what he overheard in Roman’s office. Normally, the answer would be nothing, but since Alexei left the door ajar either on accident or on purpose, Mosca had been able to hear the full conversation. Still, Mosca didn’t say anything, his loyalty was to Roman first and foremost, not Dimitri.
Dimitri’s eyes turned murderous as he realized Mosca wasn’t going to speak. “If you don’t…”
“Come here,” Romans thundering voice from inside, stilled both men.
The unspoken fear that jolted through them was for good reason. No matter how many years either of them worked for Roman, they could never safely predict what the man was going to do next. Mosca always knew the smile Roman displayed was tactical and intentional. Very effectively and with very little effort, the smile threw people around Roman off their balance. It was creepy to watch someone as imposing as Roman give you a slow spreading smile that never seemed to stop. The simple tactic made Roman appear as a mercurial madman with the power and authority that could rival a King.
Dimitri shot him another glare that promised that this conversation wasn’t over, before walking into the office. Mosca followed since he couldn’t be sure who exactly the boss wanted.
Roman was still sitting at his desk when they walked in. As custom for lieutenant, Mosca stopped and stood to the side of the door while Dimitri went to stand in front of Roman’s desk. The look on Roman’s face was chilling. Having spent years growing up around powerful and often volatile men in this organization, Mosca took a deep calming breath and made his face impassive as he waited.
With his arms resting on top of his desk, Roman twirled a pen slowly in one hand as he fixed Dimitri with a hard-assessing stare. It was another tactic Mosca had noticed about Roman. The young boss never looked away from people, his eyes always stayed focused, boring holes into his victims until they began to squirm.
“Why did you invite her here?”
“Because you know as well as I do, she is perfect,” Dimitri gave Roman a look that dared him to argue.
Laughing, Roman’s eyebrows shot up. “Perfect? She was dressed like a mushroom.”
Mosca had to stop himself from smiling. Rahina had worn her thick black hair in a giant puffy ball at the top of her head that bounced and bobbed as she moved. It did somewhat resemble a mushroom, he admitted.
Dimitri did laugh, however. “Well, that was the cutest mushroom I had ever seen. Admit it, she was nothing like you’ve ever seen before. Hell, she is like nothing I have ever seen before. Aren’t you a little intrigued by her?” With his hands in his pockets, Dimitri gave Roman a level look. “I have never seen a woman look at you without an ounce of fear like that.”
Roman’s smile grew cold. “She has no idea who I really am,” he countered.
Somehow Mosca doubted that and seemingly so did Dimitri who let out a snort of disbelief as he sat down. “She knows exactly what you are, the who doesn’t really matter.”
“The who as you put it, is all that matters,” and though he didn’t raise his voice both Dimitri and Mosca felt the resounding anger behind his smile.
Mosca remained dutifully silent as he watched Dimitri consider his boss’s words. Roman had a point. He was a powerful figure in the underworld. When Roman arrived in the states years ago to replace the former boss of Boston, it made unmistakable waves across the world. Roman immediately set about violently taking control of the weapons and drug trade. With a sudden surge of money and power coming from America, Roman single-handedly pulled Vladimir, the head of the bratva in Russia, past any rival families directly to the top. Roman’s name became one of legends, and of nightmares: everything he did was deadly and lucrative. Every young enforcer salivated at the chance to run in Roman’s crew. It was a promise of a fast, exhilarating life filled with sex, money, and death. But there was a price, with all that power came enemies. Within the past few years, the drug market had been silently relinquished over to the Mexican cartel leaving the organization to focus on their two primary sources of income: weapons and information, both of which required a quieter hand than Roman’s previous exploits. Mikhail Kulakov, Boston’s second boss, handled all of the weapons shipments while Roman quietly turned to the lucrative business in dealing in secrets. Though despite the reduced body count and quiet dealings, Roman still had enemies.
The silence that lingered between the two was heavy. Neither one was going to back down. Mosca could tell there was more Dimitri wanted to say. Although Mosca was positive Dimitri would rather take a bullet than admit it, he always suspected Dimitri looked up to Roman as a type of older brother. Mosca wanted to assume the underboss was just trying to help— that was until Dimitri spoke again.
“Well if you don’t want her, then you won’t mind if I do, right?” Mosca kept his hands folded at his front, and he used all of his discipline to refrain from closing his eyes in a groan at Dimitri’s words.
Roman smiled. That slow growing smile that felt much like an arctic wind rather than an expression of endearment. “Knock yourself out.”
Tsking under his breath, Dimitri stood and walked to the door before turning with his own smile. A smile he forged in the years of service with Roman. “You’re only saying that because you know I don’t have a chance in hell.” Laughing, he leaned one hand on the doorframe and looked beyond Roman in recollection. “I’ve never felt so rejected. She never even looked at me. It’s impossible to chase a girl who only has eyes for another man.”
~*~
Rahina not only had eyes for Roman, she had unflappable dogged determination. She arrived every day just after lunch, always wearing a combination of her dancer’s tights and leotard covered in a pair of baggy street clothes. Without notice, Mosca watched the energetic young woman flutter around the dangerous crime boss, paying no heed to his unusual gruff demeanor at her constant presence.
When Rahina stepped through the heavy double glass
doors, everyone, no matter who they were instantly felt her presence. It was as if she was in an injection of pure sunlight radiating through the halls, forcing her contagious energy on everyone in the building. With lunch in hand, a smile on her face, and her hair piled to the top of her head in her standard floppy bun, Rahina would materialize at Roman’s side.
It was perplexing to watch Roman handle the daily interruption. After the fifth unwelcome visit, Mosca was positive Roman was going to have her forcibly removed. Roman was a man accustomed to getting his way. If there was something he wanted, Roman made sure he had it, even if he had to forcibly bend the laws of nature to his will Roman would get what he wanted and do it all with an insane grin.
The same principle applied to things didn’t want in his life, which only made Rahina’s tolerated presence all the more confusing. It was seemingly apparent his boss didn’t return the girl’s enamored feelings. Mosca had watched women come and go from Roman’s life over the years and he could safely say Rahina did not align to the boss’s preferences. Roman liked his women glamorous, reserved, and above all obedient; and not one of those could accurately describe Rahina.
Once Rahina stepped into his office, Roman’s smile dissipated. Scowling at her, Roman sat back in his chair each day and spoke to her in low deep tones as she perched herself on the corner of his desk and laid out his lunch before him. She chattered away endlessly with an everlasting smile talking about her day all the while happily ignoring Roman’s displeasure. It was amazing and strange. It was all anyone ever talked about amongst the men. Who was the girl that could make Roman’s insane smile disappear and live to tell about it? Why was she allowed entrance every day if the boss didn’t like her? All it would take was one word from Roman and the guards at the gate would never allow her through. Just one command or one look of silent understood order and the girl’s constant presence and infectious smile would be eliminated from his life. But Roman gave no such order. Rahina continued to breeze up the stairs daily, waving to the various sales staff that worked on the dealership floor and strode through to Roman’s office.
Pulling the black SUV into the private parking spot, Mosca heard the back-passenger door open before he could even close his own door. Not one to wait, Roman stepped out of the vehicle and walked around to the building entrance. Walking up the short set of cement stairs behind him, Mosca wondered if Roman noticed the absence of the red Volvo on their way in. It was an hour past the normal time of Rahina’s visit. Yesterday Mosca had overheard Roman distinctly telling the girl not to come back, but Mosca couldn’t be sure if it was because he knew he would be out or was it just his usual command that went ignored by the dancer.
Stepping through the glass doors, they heard the sound of her husky voice immediately. Ahead of him, Roman gave no outward signs of noticing her presence, but Mosca knew he had. Sitting at the sales desk, Rahina had her back to the front as she sat at Tara’s desk. Mosca had seen the man on the other side of the desk before, a young tech startup capitalist who recently had a string of fruitful investments. He had been in a few times that month finalizing and securing payment for his new custom pearl white lotus four-hundred. Following Roman up the stairs, Mosca kept his eyes trained on the back of the black puffball as the young blonde businessman smiled at her from across the desk. Even from the balcony, Mosca could see the situation clearly. Tara’s forced smile as she politely pushed some documents that needed to be signed forward, Rahina’s relaxed posture in her chair as she played on her phone half listening half ignoring the man. Stopping and turning toward the glass balcony railing, Roman cast a disinterested glanced towards the three below. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he typed in a few characters before resuming down the hall. Looking back down, Mosca could feel his lips curl into a smile as he watched Rahina stiffen in her chair. With the speed and grace of a gazelle, she was out of her chair and up the stairs, breezing past him with an excited “hello” before bounding into Roman’s office.
“Where is your car?” He heard Roman ask when she stepped inside.
“In the shop. Do you see now why I wanted a new car? You should feel immense guilt by the fact that I had to actually use a rideshare to get here.”
Maybe it was intrigue or maybe it was boredom, either way, Mosca was interested to see where this is going to go.
Chapter 4
Roman was staring out the jet window as it descended for landing while Mikhail spoke in low tones into his phone. Roman knew without even having to listen to the words that Mikhail was talking to his young wife. The soft, almost lighter tone he used for Misha made Roman want to roll his eyes, but he refrained. Months ago, Roman could not claim the same level of self-control when it came to his colleague’s love-life. It was irritating to watch the men around him fall in love. Men who were in the same position as him within the organization, men who wielded dangerous power and who were surrounded by outright enemies. They were idiots for falling in love.
Hanging up his phone, Mikhail gave him a stoic look. A look that on the surface was seemingly impassive while underneath stared at him with knowing assessment. Roman returned him a wide grin.
Shaking his head, Mikhail flicked his gaze out the window before looking back at him. “When do you think the senator will make his move?”
They had both just come from New York, having met with Adrik. Like Mikhail, Adrik worked for the organization as well, as New York’s residing boss and handled a large shipping business. While Mikhail imported and exported mostly guns, Adrik delved in the baser level of the industry— flesh. Women, assassins, down to human organs, Adrik was the expert on moving people and their parts all around the world without a trace.
Knowing Mikhail wanted a timeline on when to prepare his next big weapons shipment, Roman leaned back in the leather seat and popped the stiff muscles in his neck as he estimated the senator’s response. Adrik had called Roman for the request on some leveraging information on a senator giving him issues, and since Adrik’s issues could potentially be Mikhail’s issues, Roman decided an in-person meeting would be best.
“Go ahead and start your process for the next shipment, there is no possibility of Senator Harkin taking the risk of letting the information leak, not with elections coming up.” The embezzlement and prostitution evidence Roman had on the man would destroy the Senator’s career in a matter of days if leaked.
Pulling out his phone again, Mikhail nodded as he put in some data. The jet gave a gentle lurching rock as they landed.
Nico, one of Mikhail’s men stood up from his seat with the other men in the front and came over to them in the back. Looking directly at Roman, Nico spoke. “Mosca texted me to confirm he is here, sir.”
Giving Nico a barely discernible nod, Roman ignored Mikhail’s questioning gaze. Roman knew why he was staring at him, Mikhail wanted to know why Mosca was texting his lieutenant instead of texting Roman directly. The truth was, Mosca probably did text him that info, but Roman was currently refusing to look at his phone. They were probably no less than thirteen unread text messages on his phone, all from Rahina. If he looked at them, he knew for a fact he would see something she said that would bait him to respond. He would rather wait and deal with her when he undoubtedly saw her again. He could feel the plane turning and slowing to a stop as he played with the fantasy of strangling the annoying dancer.
“Two days is a long time to be away, wouldn’t you agree?” The smile in Mikhail’s voice brought Roman’s attention back sharply.
With a sense of ridiculous dread, Roman followed Mikhail’s line of sight out the jet window. Sitting on top of the hood of his car, Rahina sat smiling broadly as she held up her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she watched the jet park. Her long dark legs kicked excitedly from their dangling position on the black SUV, leaning over she spoke excitedly to Mosca who straightened from his leaning position against the vehicle.
“I finally get to see her,” Mikhail gave Roman a rare amused smile. “I was hoping I would.”
>
Roman scowled. “Who told you?” Though he could pretty much guess who spoke first.
Hearing the jet’s air locked door open, they both stood up.
Mikhail buttoned the jacket of his suit as he confirmed Roman’s suspicions. “Actually, Alexei and Dimitri both shared the interesting new addition to your life.”
Giving the bald-headed bastard a cold glare, Roman stepped past him towards the front of the jet.
“She’s beautiful,” Mikhail stated.
Roman mentally shrugged off the man’s compliment as he stepped out of the plane onto the sun-drenched tarmac. Taking the short staircase with quick, purposeful steps, Roman paused as Mikhail stepped off onto the ground next to him.
“I swear she wants me to kill her,” he growled to Mikhail. Roman watched her jump excitedly from the hood and stood next to Mosca, he could practically feel her excitement for him from here. “And to be honest, I’m finding it increasingly difficult not to.”
Mikhail said nothing in response as they walked forward. As if she was merely waiting for him to cross some invisible line, Roman watched as Rahina set herself free from Mosca’s side and rushed towards him.
“What are you doing here?” His sharp-edged question hit her like a glass wall as she came to a stop in front of him.
Giving him a confused smile, she shook her head. “Um, bringing you undying loyalty and devotion after two days of agonizing loneliness,” she said as if his question was ludicrous. “Also, I brought you lunch, it’s in the car.”
Giving her a slow threatening smile, Roman stared down at her deep russet eyes and coffee brown skin that glowed in the sun. Sparkling excitement shined back at him, crackling along the surface of his resolve. Today she wasn’t dressed like a mushroom, long glossy black hair pulled into a ponytail gleamed against her bare shoulders, forcibly drawing every male eye to her smooth skin. Shorts, tank top, and sneakers she looked as if she was going to spend the day at the beach. Looking past her, Roman walked towards Mosca and toyed with the idea of leaving her stranded on the tarmac alone.
His Smile: A Mafia Romance Page 3
