His Smile: A Mafia Romance

by Katerina Winters

  Alexei let out a harsh dry laugh. "That's comical coming from the women dating Roman."

  “What does that mean?"

  She saw the man’s golden eyes look behind her toward Mosca, sensing a nonverbal dialogue being exchanged.

  "What?” she turned to Mosca who looked at her with a deceivingly innocent face. He said something, she just knew he did. “What do you mean by that?" She repeated to Alexei.

  Turning his back on, her Alexei walked away. "We are done here, Miss Chopra."

  He was such an asshole.

  Taking a bite of her pizza, she searched through the guide on the large TV mounted above the equally large fireplace for something to watch.

  “Why wait to tell Roman?” Mosca finally asked after a few moments of silence.

  Taking a sip of the bitter beer, she balanced her plate on her lap and stared at the two dogs through the window who were currently staring at them and their pizza with a look of betrayed longing.

  “Because I don’t want to share my good news with his voicemail or in a text.”

  They had both received texts earlier that morning from Roman stating he would not be able to call them for the next few days. Messages from Dimitri to Mosca relayed that whatever deal they were doing over there on the island was getting a little hectic, but not to worry it was getting handled. But she still worried. Here, Roman’s life seemed so calm and uneventful it was hard to believe he was some sort of kingpin of crime as he and others around him claimed. Not wanting to admit it, Roman had been right, she really didn’t know what she was getting into. She supposed she had viewed him something akin to her father, the type of criminal that dealt in just theft but as she walked into Alexei’s grand office and listened to Dimitri’s cryptic relayed messages her mind began to broaden in realization. Imaginations of Roman filtered through her mind as she pictured him actually using the gun he kept holstered to his chest. She imagined the large smiling man running and shooting on the sun-soaked island caught in a movie like shootout. Naturally, her thoughts turned dark as she thought of him getting shot, and her heart clenched in fear. Sitting here in this giant house, next to another man who devoted his life to illicit gains, and imagining the terrible scenarios she felt foolish and scared all at once.

  “I wish he was back,” she admitted quietly.

  She could sense Mosca stiffen next to her and feel his eyes on the side of her face.

  “He is fine,” he said, seemingly sensing what she was thinking. “Knowing him, he is probably just staying focused so he can come home faster.”

  Nodding, she blinked and actually focused on the screen ahead of her for the first time. “You want to watch either a melodramatic Korean drama about a female chef falling in love with her boss, the head chef, or do you want to watch a movie about aliens taking over a space station?”

  Mosca cast her a mocking look that told her to take a guess.

  “Alien carnage it is then,” she pressed play and grabbed another slice of pizza.

  Chapter 16

  The voicemail from Rahina told him not to look at any of her social media. It went on to instruct him that she had a surprise for him when he got home and to hurry up with whatever he was doing. If only she knew how much he was trying to make that happen. Roman was in his second week in this hell hole, and his patience had worn down to its last degree—that was until he watched the video feed.

  Roman had every intention of playing along with Rahina’s request. From the brief phone calls, he had with her over the past week and a half he knew she had been busy with her “new career” as she called it and she was eager to unveil to him all that had happened while he was away. Being away from her like this while so much was happening to her surprised Roman on how much it affected him. He wanted to be there with her, he wanted to watch the determined young woman fight for her place in the dance world instead of here on a hot fucking island watching Boris and his father, Vladimir, increase their own family and set off a small fucking war. With his attention diverted to Boris and Vladimir’s mess, Roman honestly didn’t have time to browse Rahina’s accounts. But once he was instructed not to, Roman couldn’t admit that he hadn’t found his mind wandering with curiosity towards her activities. Carving out a few moments alone, Roman smirked as he logged into his security feed account. She never said he couldn’t spy on her. Inwardly he laughed at the thought of having that argument with her, and it immediately just pissed him off. He had to get this shit wrapped up and get off this fucking island.

  It was late back in Boston, and the video feed only showed him the dark living room and angles of the upstairs landing heading to the rooms. Rewinding it, he watched as he watched her come and go throughout the day, quickly rewinding to previous days. Same shots of her walking through the living room, eating something in the kitchen, a few scenes he actually slowed down to see her playing with his dogs in the living room. Even a scene he took great pleasure in where both of her sisters sat in his living room laughing and talking as Rahina stood up near the TV, in front of them both, telling an overly animated story about her nearly causing a fire in her apartment years ago. Rewinding it further, wanting to see more of the lively girl he left behind, wanting to hear more of her voice just for a couple of moments longer, he stopped at one scene in particular. The smile from his face slowly disappearing as he watched Mosca lead her swaying body up the stairs. Stopping halfway up the stairs, she had mumbled something too low for the cameras to pick up. He watched Mosca give her a tired smile and tug at her hand urging her to resume. The scene was so familiar it jabbed at his soul, it was the same scene that transpired between them when she cried in his arms that night. Shifting his eyes away from them on the stairs, Roman could see familiar shaped dark bottles lined up along his coffee table next to an empty open pizza box. Once she reached the top of the landing, she swayed against Mosca laughing tiredly, dropping her head to his shoulder. Her face was covered by her long dark hair which hung like a messy curtain around her shoulders and down her back.

  “Fine,” Mosca said. Bending at the knees, he captured the dancer by the back and scooped her legs from underneath her holding her long body in his arms.

  Lazily her head lolled back, and Roman could see her upside-down drunk grin as Mosca carried her into the master bedroom. There were no cameras in his bedroom, and Roman had no choice but to watch the open door through to his darkened bedroom with a slow-burning impatience. Minute by minute, he let the video slowly creep by, refusing to fast forward, as he waited. Finally, after five of the longest minutes he experienced, Mosca walked out of the room, leaving the bedroom door still open. Gathering the empty bottles, plates, and pizza box Mosca opened the door the backyard on his way to the kitchen. Hannibal and Genghis raced up the stairs to his bedroom door as Mosca turned off the downstairs’ lights and left.

  Rewinding the scene, Roman re-watched Mosca’s face as he picked her up and as he left the room and he paused the feed on his enforcer.

  Rage boiled inside of Roman, and he knew it was unfounded. Mosca did nothing. Rahina technically did nothing, but the image of choking both of them in vastly different ways didn’t abate. Shutting his laptop with a snap, he looked out to the darkness where he could hear but not see the ocean waves, he needed to get back.

  ~*~

  Pressing play on the video, Roman watched as the camera slowly zoomed out from black, revealing a line of dancers, female and male all a multitude of races, all lined up together leaning on one another with their eyes closed in a dramatic group pose. The females all wore a long sleeve black leotards while the males were shirtless and all wearing black tights. As the camera panned out to fully reveal the line of eighteen dancers, the music began, and their eyes opened at once. Breaking away in perfect choreography from the woman standing in the middle, she danced alone in the dark room lit by theatrical warm lighting. Her dancing seemed purposely tired, and her facial expression complimented the lethargic moves. The camera panned away lower to the ground as a new set of
black satin point slippers danced in from the right. The feet moved with deft speed and in rhythm to the music. Slowly sweeping up the long bronze legs, the new dancer was revealed. Her long black hair was coiled in a neat large bun at the base of her head, her leotard looked painted to her long torso and full breasts. The other dancer who was now dressed in a Spanish dress, smiled gratefully at the newcomer and met the dancer’s extended hand. Dramatically the camera spun around them and their outfits swapped. Dancing with a vigor she didn’t possess before the previous dancer twirled and leapt away with a smile leaving the newcomer centerstage. The music changed to the familiar world-renowned Bizet’s Habanera from Carmen. With her black hair now streaming down her back and a crown of blood red roses in her hair, the radiant dancer twirled in her off the shoulder dress as she fluttered her ruffled skirts. Coming up from behind her, a familiar man dressed also in costume, clasped her waist and the music stopped as they stood frozen in a pose. The dancers from earlier ran out from left and right of the stage and assembled in laughs and smiles around the two dancers as the upbeat music washed over them and the video’s text overlaid the screen. “Ephemeral welcomes two new principals to the family, Rahina Chopra and Jason Davies.”

  Pride cooled some of the burning need of urgency that had plagued Roman for the past few days. Today was the thirteenth day since he left, just under the two weeks mark he promised her when he left. It took all of him to make it happen, and he was exhausted, but Roman could not ignore the insistent nagging feeling in his gut. He could sense Rahina’s disappointment that he hadn’t returned yet, as her text had lost their frequency and bubbly tone. No longer caring if he broke his promise, Roman clicked on the next link, pulling up an article about her and Jason’s introduction to Ephemeral. The article explained how Rahina and Jason would be taking over the company’s remaining Carmen performances while the previous dancer would be moving to a new upcoming contemporary performance Ephemeral will be releasing.

  Are there any hard feelings between you and Maria Lanes about you taking over her part in Carmen? The reporter asked.

  “No not at all, actually Maria was more than happy to move on from it since contemporary has and always will be where she dominates. I don’t know how she does it, I am terrible at contemporary. I saw pieces of her practice for their upcoming performance Blitz, and I have to say I was blown away by what they’re doing.”

  After Carmen, I see that you and Jason will be working on Dante’s new very hush hush piece Moon Princess. Care to share just a little more info about that, I am dying to know?

  “Well you will just have to wait a bit longer, but I am allowed to tell you one piece of info that no one else knows. I will not only be dancing with Jason but with Yuri Gosev as well.”

  Wow. I mean this is huge. You will be dancing alongside the notorious Russian bad boy of ballet. Are you telling me Yuri has signed on to Ephemeral as well?

  “No,” the reporter went on to describe Rahina’s beautiful smile and laugh as she assured her, he has not. “You and I both know Yuri Gosev will never let himself be tamed by one company. He is on a temporary contract with us, just for Moon Princess.”

  I know that you have danced with him before, how do you feel dancing with him again as well as one could say his complete opposite Jason Davies at the same time.

  “I am excited to work with him, and you are right; they are complete opposites. Dancing with Jason is like dancing with the love of your life. You feel safe, protected, and completely in love. Dancing with Yuri is what I can only imagine is what an affair feels like.”

  Please tell me more, I am at the edge of my seat.

  “Dancing with Yuri feels like something torrid and taboo. Its heart crashing, breathless, and feels totally dangerous. I guess I could say it’s like dancing with lightning.”

  I believe that line right there should be the tagline for the Moon Princess. And lastly, everyone is talking about how you walked away from The Boston Ballet Company because you weren’t given the principal position everyone feels you deserved. People are saying that their members are not happy and they have seen an astronomical influx of returned tickets for the upcoming season and heavily reduced ticket sales. What is your opinion on that?

  “The Boston Ballet Company has a lot of wonderful dancers and friends of mine. I know that their upcoming performances will be just as good as they have always been.”

  Roman couldn’t help but appreciate the bland statement. Looking out the dark window of the jet, he unseeingly stared past his own reflection as he thought of her.

  “We will be landing in twenty minutes, Mr. Mashir,” the jet’s pilot announced over the intercom.

  ~*~

  Mosca put the SUV in gear and pulled away from the private airport. Passing through the manned gate station, he acknowledged the guard with a nod and pulled through. The backseat was quiet, but he could feel the boss’s radiating presence from behind him. He had gotten the call an hour ago to meet him at the airport, no earlier warning just the single call stating his plane was in flight, and he was landing.

  When Roman stepped off the plane, he informed Mosca that Dimitri would be arriving on a separate flight, but that was all he said. The silence wasn’t unusual he had spent countless hours in Roman’s presence and was accustomed to the large man’s bouts of silence. This silence, however, seemed heavier though.

  Goddamn Rahina.

  The oppressive silence was her fault. The awkwardness Mosca felt in the car’s atmosphere was all because of her. The other day he went to check on the security feeds as he always did and Mosca nearly had a heart attack when he read that his boss had logged on the night before. With frantic energy, he raced to see if that night he and Rahina ate pizza was viewed—it was. Of fucking course, he thought. Glancing up to the rearview mirror Mosca’s insides turned cold at the steady gray gaze staring directly into the mirror at him.

  Fucking hell, he thought.

  “Umm,” Mosca cleared his throat and looked away from the mirror as he accelerated through a light. “I should inform you, sir, that Rahina is not at home right now.”

  There was no response. Mosca could feel his steady heartbeat pump harder in his chest as he glanced back up to the mirror. Roman’s gunmetal eyes had not moved, and his impassive facial expression did not change.

  Knowing what he wanted, Mosca shifted in his seat and continued. “She left just as I was leaving, she was dressed…” He should have stopped her Mosca thought, remembering the tall girl’s impish smile as she waved goodbye to him before sliding into her yellow roadster. “She was dressed nicely, for an evening out,” he clarified.

  A few minutes of silence passed, but Mosca’s pulse did not take comfort in that silence, it only suffered for it. Looking back up to the mirror, Mosca felt his stomach flinch at the sight of the smile in the mirror.

  “Where did she go?” Roman asked softly.

  Chapter 17

  Stepping out of the car, Rahina smiled at the valet attendant who reached out a hand for her, politely helping her out of the car. She didn’t miss the young man’s eyes widen as he took in her full height in her six-inch gold heels nor did she miss the look of male appreciation on his and the other valet’s faces as she walked past her car and up to the club’s entrance.

  Tonight, she was well aware she looked good. Wearing an emerald green velvet strap dress, the long skirt of the gown parted around each of her long legs due to the two slits down the front. The plunging back of the gown left her back mostly exposed with only her voluminous black hair to provide her a cape of cover.

  Earlier that evening, she had been restless and full of energy. Practice at Ephemeral had gone wonderfully, her lunch with Rubina went great and was filled with laughs, but when she got back to Roman’s empty, quiet house, she immediately felt bored. Ignoring the texts from her mother and answering the ones from her younger sister, she paused when she had gotten the text from Dev. It was his usual text asking her out and wanting to talk. Normally, she
would politely rebuff the request, but tonight she had another idea. She knew Dev and his family sorely wanted a connection to her family, and she knew because of that anything she said with him had a high chance of getting back to his and her mother. For days, she had been debating on how she should sit down and talk to her mother about the changes in her life, but as she read Dev’s persistent text, she realized something, she didn’t actually have to sit down and have this conversation with her mom at all—Dev would do it for her.

  Stepping through the double glass doors, she saw Dev right away. Standing next to the hostess’s stand, he stepped forward, dressed in a deep purple tailored suit and a black silk shirt and tie.

  "You look beautiful,” he said. She could feel his eyes hovering a few seconds longer at her exposed thighs before travelling and pausing yet again at the rounded curves of her breasts.

  "Thank you, you look handsome as well,” she replied chipperly, as she turned away from him to look around the three-story nightclub, Swerve. "I've always wanted to come here; I was really excited you suggested it."

  Between her hectic personal life and busy work schedule for the past few years, Rahina had hardly had time to try out this exclusive club. Normally, she and Mario tended to go to the same dance clubs every few weekends knowing that was where all their friends would be and more importantly, that was where Mario made his money doing club promotions. Rahina didn’t feel at all bad that she was using Dev’s desire to talk as an opportune time to see the place, though she knew she should have.

  Following the hostess, Rahina was a little dismayed to find that they were being ushered to the main level and not taking the infamous glass elevator down or up to the other levels. Directing them to one of the club’s famous circular glass booths, the hostess smiled cheerily at them.