The God: (A Dark Mafia Romance) (Bratva Blood Book 3)

by SR Jones

  Shit.

  “What will you want me to do?”

  Number Three shakes his head. “All in due course. For now, you go on home and wait until you hear from us. Fuck Vasily if you get the chance, and tell us all you can in the report, but he won’t be your mark going forward. Doesn’t mean we can’t use the information, though. Other than that, get yourself invited back to Corfu if you can, and await our instructions.”

  I leave the room on shaky legs. This can’t be good. It has to be very bad indeed. I have no doubt it’s something to do with Konstantin and his men. What, I don’t know, but it means when I’m finished, I’ll be a dead woman walking.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Bohdan

  I call K and tell him I’m coming to Corfu with Dasha and her mother. I say I’ll book a hotel if needs be, if Andrius doesn’t want us on his land. He’s so paranoid he might not want us there if Jasper poses a possible threat. K calls me back thirty minutes later to tell me we can come and that one of the guard houses is free. We’re waiting at the airport to board the flight, and I find myself wishing that K hadn’t sold his airliner. The private jet would have been damn good right about now.

  We’re in the First Class lounge, and Dasha is sipping at a glass of chilled orange juice.

  “This is nice,” her mother says.

  Her words surprise me. Surely with the money Jasper has, money he made off Dasha, they travel in style all the time?

  “You don’t normally fly First?” I ask.

  Dasha shakes her head. “No. Jasper says it’s a waste of money.”

  I laugh. “That old furniture he loves is a waste of money, if you ask me. This? Comfort, leg room, priority check-in, is most assuredly not a waste of money.

  When we board the plane, I relax into the comfy seat with the aforementioned leg room and close my eyes. There’s so much to say to Dasha, but none of it can be said in front of her vile mother.

  Wheels are in motion. I’ve got the lawyer looking into things for her, and hopefully soon she’ll be able to wrestle control back from that fucker, Jasper.

  My phone buzzes, and I take it out of my pocket. It’s Damen. I can’t talk to him with Dasha next to me, so I get up and wander down the aisle, toward the toilets.

  “Yeah?”

  “So, I’ve done some very thorough research of Jasper. He’s a dodgy fucker but nothing you can’t handle. Yes, the lawyer he uses is feared and thought to be a mob lawyer, but Jasper knows him from back in the day. They went to college together. I think the stuff he’s doing for Jasper is friends’ favors, you know? There doesn’t seem to be any link between Jasper and the actual mob in Paris. Plus, the mob in Paris isn’t what it was either. It’s in flux like everywhere, and many of the old French and Italian mafia families have been replaced and displaced by up-and-comers from places like Albania and Poland. I doubt very much that Jasper has any sway with any big families.”

  “That’s good to know. How the hell has he managed to exert so much control over Dasha and take over her finances then?”

  “He met her when she was young, impressionable. He’s clearly an abuser, and if he’s spent years controlling her and making her believe he’s the only one she can rely on, it’s going to fuck with her head. He took control, I imagine, when she was starting out, just wanting to dance, and it grew from there. I’ve looked into every corner of both their lives, and he had control of the finances from a young age. It means she’s probably not even aware fully of how much money she’s made. Thing is, the guy we’ve got on our side now isn’t going to be intimidated, and he isn’t going to back down. I also found that there’s some tax avoidance stuff linked to Jasper, and he’s also been accused by more than one girl in the past of inappropriate behavior. I reckon we’ve got enough here to ensure she can leave him easily.”

  “Can’t thank you enough. I owe you one big time.”

  “Yeah, might as well be full-time employed by you lot,” he grouses.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, nothing,” he says, but I don’t buy that. Is he doing more work for Konstantin? For Andrius? They said they wanted free of this stuff?

  Vasily! I bet it’s Vasily. I won’t ask Damen, that’s not fair, but I’ll call Vasily later and see what is going on.

  After a connecting flight from Athens to Corfu, we arrive at Andrius’ place, weary and hungry. Mr. Bojangles is with us. He came on the flight. The cats and the birds are safe and being cared for, which was hard to sort at such short notice, but I found a lovely lady to take them near Versailles.

  We reach the gates and find ourselves greeted by one of the armed guards. Our bags are searched, and Dasha’s mother turns her worried face to look at her daughter.

  “I don’t think we’re safe here,” she whispers.

  “Andrius is Spetsnaz, so is Konstantin. Reece, the third partner in our venture, is British Special Forces. We’re building the world’s premier security firm. I think you’re as safe here as one could wish to be.” I shake my head at her.

  God, the woman annoys me. I want to strangle her for what’s she’s done to me, and the only reason she’s here is for Dasha’s sake.

  I must be turning soft as butter to have this viper in my nest. She’s a horrible woman who betrayed me and her daughter, but Dasha still seems determined to try to have some sort of functioning relationship with the old cow. So here we are.

  As we approach the main house, the door opens, and Andrius stands in the light spilling from it, tall and foreboding. “Welcome, Dasha,” he says politely. Then he dips his head a little and welcomes her mother too.

  She smiles at the politeness and seems to relax a notch.

  “We put you in one of the cottages,” he says to me. “You have some privacy there and some quiet, so you can rest after the journey.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it a lot.”

  He shrugs and pats me on the back. “You’re one of us now. Business partners, right?”

  Yes, I am, and it feels good. I’ll have managed to build something for myself here, if this works out for us all. A worthwhile investment in a bona fide business, and I will have a home on this beautiful island. I can’t wait for Dasha to see the views in the morning when the sun is up.

  We head to the villa Andrius has ready for us. One of his maids, Nina, shows us the way, and then shows Dasha and her mother to their respective rooms, me following her with the bags.

  My room is the master, and it has an attached bath, whereas Dasha and her mother will share the one in the hallway. No matter because if I get my way, Dasha will be sleeping with me.

  I want her so much it thrums under my skin. I watched her on the flight, and everything she does, every move she makes is elegant. The woman isn’t remotely self-conscious either. There’s a natural grace about her that few people possess.

  People notice her too. She doesn’t pick up on it because she’s been conditioned by that shit of a husband to see herself as less than, but people notice her all the time. Men and women both.

  I unpack my bags hastily and shove my things away. I don’t have much smart stuff with me, just my dark trousers and white shirt that I wore for the dinner the other night, and that I always take with me in case I need smart clothes. I’m not like K, who Cassie quite accurately described as a show pony.

  I smile; that still amuses me. He is! Andrius too. Those two probably own a lot more expensive shit than their women.

  Me, though, I’m a comfy jean and a sweatshirt or a t-shirt kind of a guy. I do have a couple of expensive watches, and that’s about it.

  Which reminds me, I need to check my investments tomorrow and see how they are performing.

  By the time I’ve showered, it’s late as fuck. I open my door quietly and head to Dasha’s room. Peeking in, I see she’s sleeping, or pretending to be asleep. It’s been an emotional day, so I leave her alone. Tomorrow, though, we’re talking whether she likes it or not.

  I head back to my bed, and I fall asleep
as soon as my head hits the pillow.

  Fresh coffee assaults my nostrils, and I wake up with bright sunlight streaming in through the curtains I forgot to shut the night before.

  I sling on some sweatpants, foregoing a shirt because it’s hot, and head downstairs. Dasha is at the stove, stirring something in a pan. She turns to me, and her eyes widen as she takes me in. Her gaze rakes over my chest and down to where the sweatpants hang low on my hips. I’ve got a good body, and normally it’s not something I’m bothered about, other than keeping my strength and fitness up for my job, which used to entail fighting, and sometimes running. Now, though, I’m glad I look the way I do.

  There’s a knock at the door, and I open it to see Cassie standing there, a basket in her arms and a big smile plastered all over her face. “Hey, Bohdan.”

  Dasha’s tiny dog runs up to the door barking as if he’s a damn Doberman ,and Cassie’s face lights up. “Oh, my word, how precious. Who is this?”

  “Mr. Bojangles,” I say, all serious.

  She grins at me. “Killer name.”

  She hugs me briefly and walks into the kitchen. I see Dasha take her in, the jealous way she examines Cassie’s figure. Cassie is wearing casual clothes. Her shorts are grey sweat shorts, with the Nike logo on them, and her tank top is made of the same material, and on her feet are running shoes. She’s tan, and her cleavage is impressive in that top.

  It hits me then that Cassie is exactly the sort of woman that Jasper would have screwed around with. I wish Dasha could see that while Cassie is attractive, Dasha is truly beautiful. A rare beauty. She really doesn’t see it, though.

  “I brought some bread and cakes that I baked the other day,” Cassie says, as sunshiny to listen to as she is to look at.

  I can understand what K sees in her, but I prefer Dasha’s darker corners and sad soul. I’ve got a sad soul too, so we suit one another. I’d have to kill Cassie after a few days of her relentless positivity.

  “Hey, where are you?”

  I smile at K’s rough toned voice and wave as he comes in the door. “She’s here bringing baked goods.”

  “I don’t know what happened to you?” he chides, but he’s grinning like an idiot. “You’ve turned into some sort of baking addict.”

  “I know, I love it.”

  “Well, why don’t you move your pretty ass, and we can go to the beach.” He then grabs a handful of that pretty ass right in front of Dasha, me, and Dasha’s mother who has just joined us. He pulls Cassie into him, by her ass, and kisses her hard, groaning as he does.

  Fuck me, these two.

  “Get a room,” I grouse.

  They both break off kissing and laugh. I make the introductions, and then they say goodbye and head out to the beach.

  We eat the omelets that Dasha made, and they’re good. Fluffy and light. I don’t know where she got the eggs, but when I open the fridge to put the milk away, I see it is fully stocked. Andrius probably got one of his killer maids to do this.

  We eat in strained silence, and I try not to seethe at the presence of the bitch who caused me the most pain I’ve ever felt in my life. It’s hard though. I glance at her every now and again, sitting there like a spider, waiting, watching, wanting to trap something so she can eat it.

  She disgusts me.

  Dasha’s mother announces she wants to go for a walk. I tell her she will need a guard with her, and go organize that, and then, thank God, she’s gone. The minute I see her heading down the hill from the window, I feel as if I can breathe.

  Dasha is by the second window in this room, looking out at the same view as she washes the plates.

  “You let her come despite what she did to you,” she says.

  I know what she means, and don’t have to ask for clarification.

  “For you,” I say. “Not for her.”

  “I know.”

  “I want to make you happy,” I say.

  I do too. Not as happy as Cassie, that would just be annoying, but much happier than she is.

  “I don’t think anyone can make another person happy; we have to do it for ourselves.”

  “What would make you happy?”

  I go to her and put my arms around her. She tenses for a moment but then relaxes into the touch.

  “I don’t know anymore.”

  “Let me make you forget then, for a while at least.”

  I kiss her neck, exposed by where her hair is pulled up.

  “That girl is stunning,” she says. “So happy too.”

  “Cassie is nice, but she’s a bit sickly if you ask me. I don’t know how the hell K and she got together, because they’re chalk and cheese.”

  She turns around suddenly and lifts her wet hands to my skin, not drying them off.

  “You’re so big, Bohdan, these days. So tan and healthy looking. You’d suit a woman like that.”

  I’m so sick of her overthinking and putting herself down. It needs to stop.

  I’m going to make her stop.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Dasha

  “Turn around and hold on to the edge of the sink,” Bohdan says. His voice is deep, authoritative, and I do what he says almost by instinct.

  “You’re so fucking down on yourself; do you know that? You’re beautiful and sexy. I want you all the time. You’re my jewel, my bright, precious, fucking jewel, and you don’t get to put yourself down any longer. Do you hear me?”

  I nod, finding it hard to speak because as he’s talking, his fingers are working their way into my panties to stroke me right at my core.

  “I don’t want to hear you say anything about how unattractive you are, or about how gorgeous other women are. You’re gorgeous, Dasha. And you’re my lost girl but I found you again.”

  I gasp as he slides one finger inside me.

  “Feel that?” he asks. “You’re so wet for me. You think you get to walk away, but you’re mine, Dasha, and I’m yours. Two lost people but we’ve found paradise. Look out the window. See the view, the hills, the trees. To the other side there’s the ocean.”

  I know there is; I saw it this morning. It’s truly stunning here. The sort of place where anyone could relax, unfurl, and blossom as the sun, the sea, and the sky bring them back to life.

  “Here, you can be free. It is safe. It is secure. You could have a life here, with me.”

  His words are so seductive. I’d like nothing more, but I can’t trust myself. I can’t trust him because I can’t trust myself. I make bad choices, don’t I? I did with Jasper.

  “You think because Jasper found you when you were young and vulnerable that means you have no judgment?” Shit, he’s reading my mind. “It doesn’t mean that at all. It simply means that Jasper is a predator who found his prey when she was malleable due to age and inexperience. That’s all it proves. None of it is a reflection on you. None.”

  He’s talking, and what he’s saying is important, but he’s also playing with me, expertly. I’m so turned on because this is … deviant. He’s fucking me with his finger while anyone could walk past the window and see. There are no blinds in place, and nothing to stop anyone from looking in and taking in the ecstasy that must be etched on my face.

  Soon, he has me right on the edge, panting and desperate, and he stops.

  What the hell?

  I turn around, and he steps back. “Say you’ll stay.”

  “What?” I reach for him, beyond caring in this moment if I look desperate.

  He takes my wrists in his big hand and holds them together, pulling me into him as he bites the shell of my ear, making me shiver. “Say. You’ll. Stay.”

  How can I?

  “My dancing,” I say.

  “I’ll build you a fucking studio, and you can dance all day, and if you want to dance for other people, I’ll accompany you on any tour you want.”

  “My mother.”

  “I hate her, but she can stay. I would never hurt her and will always be polite to her because she’s your mother, and you are
my Dasha.”

  He kisses my throat, and I sag into him, his erection pressing against my stomach, making me itch to have him where I need him.

  “It was always you,” he says.

  Then he pulls my top off and throws it to one side as his large palms cover my breasts. I let my head fall back in delight as he works my flesh like an expert. Maybe we are made for one another because Bohdan? He seems to speak fluent Dasha. It’s as if he knows my body better than I do myself. I can make myself come, of course. But Bohdan, he lights me up inside. It’s addictive and heady, and if I’m being honest, I want more, more, more of it.

  Could I stay? For a while at least and see how things go?

  It’s a nice set up here. I deserve a break, and my body does too if I’m being honest. I’ll be letting Lilliana down, but I’m sure she won’t mind. She seems like a nice woman. A kind woman, if I’m right in my assessment of her. I could call her and say I can’t do the solo show.

  Bohdan pulls my pants down and then my panties, and he hoists me onto the kitchen table behind me. He pushes his sweatpants down, impaling me on his big cock as I cry out.

  Oh God, this is so good. This beats anything, even dancing. I feel so alive when we’re together like this.

  He fucks me hard and fast, and I cling to him as I urge him on. I like it this way. It fits us. Fits the desperation I feel for him after all the years apart. Fits the anger between us too and all the hurt.

  “Don’t stop,” I gasp as I feel my orgasm building. I don’t know why I say that because he isn’t showing any signs of stopping. He takes me over the edge as I cling to him, grinding my pussy against him as he fucks me through the orgasm of my life.

  When he comes, it is with a shout as he fills me with his seed.

  We hold onto one another, getting our breath back, and Bohdan puts his forehead against mine.

  “Say you’ll stay.”

  As a dancer, you must place your trust totally in your male partner. If you make a jump and they don’t catch you, you’re going to get hurt. I might not have made the best choice when it came to Jasper, but I’ve always chosen my dance partners well. They’ve always caught me. Now, I put myself in another man’s hands.