Dirty Obsessions: An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance (The Lion and The Mouse Book 5.5)

by Kenya Wright

  Dirty

  Obsessions

  Dirty Obsessions © 2020

  Cover Design © 2020 by Zelena

  Interior design and formatting by EbookJob

  1st Editor: Samantha Wright

  2nd Editor: Jade Editing

  Alpha and Beta Readers: Z. Wyatt, I. Coles, K. Thomas

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means such as electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the authors of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Any characters, names, places, brands, media and incidents are used solely in a fictitious nature based on the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to or mention of persons, places, organizations or other incidents is coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2020

  ISBN 0-9000000-0-0

  www.KenyaWrightBooks.com

  Table of Contents

  Prologue — Misha

  ACT ONE

  Chapter 1 — Misha

  Chapter 2 — Ava

  Chapter 3 — Misha

  Chapter 4 — Ava

  Chapter 5 — Misha

  Chapter 6 — Ava

  Chapter 7 — Misha

  Chapter 8 — Misha

  Chapter 9 — Ava

  Chapter 10 — Misha

  ACT TWO

  Chapter 11 — Ava

  Chapter 12 — Misha

  Chapter 13 — Ava

  Chapter 14 — Misha

  Chapter 15 — Misha

  Chapter 16 — Ava

  Chapter 17 — Misha

  Chapter 18 — Ava

  Chapter 19 — Ava

  Chapter 20 — Misha

  Chapter 21 — Misha

  Chapter 22 — Ava

  Chapter 23 — Misha

  Chapter 24 — Misha

  ACT THREE

  Chapter 25 — Misha

  Chapter 26 — Ava

  Chapter 27 — Ava

  Chapter 28 — Misha

  Chapter 29 — Ava

  Chapter 30 — Misha

  Chapter 31 — Ava

  Chapter 32 — Misha

  Chapter 33 — Ava

  Epilogue — Misha

  Prologue

  Misha

  I stood in front of the mirror and adjusted the bow for my tuxedo.

  Come on. Stop acting up.

  Aggravated, I scowled at myself in the mirror. Weariness crept around my eyes.

  These past days had been chaotic. Right when I thought all would be calm, more pandemonium arose.

  I dropped my hands.

  Chaos and death. I can handle those two things as long as I have Ava’s love.

  Today had been a long day. I’d woken up to Maxwell fucking the bartender from last night and filling my condo with the strangling noise of his orgasm. My men then informed me that someone sent threatening text messages to Ava. They tracked the number to Bolshoi Theater’s artistic director, Akiva. He had texted her the words, he can’t save you.

  We’ll see about that.

  I planned to prove Akiva wrong. For now, my men followed him around St Petersburg. I needed his apartment location and schedule. I couldn’t murder him in the theater.

  I’d already killed three people there—Mr. Kuznetsov, Mr. Oblonskey, and Mr. Turgenev. They were rich old men from powerful families. Incredibly old money. Their ancestors had partied with the Imperial family of long ago. Some had been kings and queens. Unfortunately, they were also creepy patrons of ballet. The sort of men who paid millions to rape ballerinas.

  Akiva thought he could auction Ava’s pussy to the highest bidder and continue to breathe. He would learn. Bolshoi Theater would too.

  Ava was mine forever and would always be under my protection. She was more than the most talented ballerina on this earth. She was rich brown skin over a taut body. Long legs and sensual muscle. Tiny breasts that served as little morsels in my mouth.

  Forever.

  No matter what war this might cause between the wealthy Russian families and the Brotherhood.

  The Bratva. . .

  One-half of the codes to Kazimir’s nukes remained with the Devil. So far, my cousin didn’t know. I would need to solve this soon and then explain myself to him. The Lion was sensitive these days. Many had been disloyal.

  My top security guy, Naveen, hired a crew to grab the codes. The team was led by a man named the Devil. He didn’t mind leaving dead bodies in his wake. The whole situation went from a simple problem to pure chaos. We’d tracked the codes from Prague to a small California city named Belladonna. From there they’d gone to Canada. Currently, Naveen traced them to Paris which couldn’t be a coincidence. The French—mainly Jean-Pierre—was somehow involved. Even worse, Kazimir had taken his mouse to Paris on a romantic vacation.

  Naveen spoke into the phone. “The Devil’s heading to Paris. He’ll land by late this evening.”

  I frowned. “I will be there to meet him.”

  “When will you arrive?” Naveen asked. “Maybe we can leave together.”

  “No. I have a performance to go to. After that, I am taking my plane. I will let you know when I get there.”

  “This guy’s a nasty one. I would bring some men.”

  “Oh, do not worry. My top men will be with me. Until then, keep me updated.” I hung up.

  All my life I’d worked hard to stay out of the Brotherhood’s problems. With my father gone, they all fell on my lap. In addition, Kazimir yearned for me to be at his side. So much that he sent Pavel to St Petersburg to get me. Valentina let that information slip out this morning.

  “Misha?!” Valentina seized my attention and crossed her arms over her chest. “Kazimir sent Pavel to get you.”

  “Then he wasted Pavel’s time.”

  “Why have you been avoiding my brother? And when are you going to bury Uncle Igor?”

  “I don’t need Pavel of all people to get me.” I headed to the bathroom. “And I’m not avoiding Kazimir. I’ve been busy.”

  “Busy with what?”

  “None of your business.”

  In the midst of arguing with Valentina, I told her that I’d grabbed her daughter’s pacifier. I was the father and she would have to respect that.

  Soon I would deal with that too.

  When will all the chaos end?

  I’d been due to fly out to Paris tonight and deal with the Devil myself. Then Ava told me that she wanted space. The confession crushed my soul. I could think of nothing else. I had to change her mind. Ava came first. She superseded my father’s pending funeral and even the Lion’s nuclear codes.

  Going to her performance wouldn’t be enough. I yearned to touch her. I’d spent enough time in the balcony, drooling over her for a year. Sitting in the audience, watching other men lift and pick her up. Turn and twirl her around. The pain and an unending twinge of jealousy would always come. How many times had my cock pressed against my pants with no hope of relief?

  We needed more time together, but there was no time.

  She needed space, but I had none to offer her.

  If I planned on leaving for Paris after the performance, I had to make a move today. Therefore, I went to the theater this afternoon, took Ava into her dressing room, and rammed my cock deep inside of her, making sure that she knew exactly how much I po
ssessed her.

  Forever, Ava.

  There was no other choice.

  I thought back to that moment in her dressing room.

  I lifted my cock up and smacked her ass with it. Those fat cheeks jiggled. With the other hand, I grabbed her bun that had already been coming apart. I gently pulled her head back, forcing her into an arch.

  I tapped her ass with my cock again.

  She groaned in frustration and tried to get up. “You’re being evil.”

  I whispered to my lovely ballerina, “Did you know that I could not give you time?”

  “No.”

  “No?” I slid the wet mushroomed tip of my cock along her skin, unintentionally teasing myself. Staying out of her was getting hard. Damn near unbearable. Here I was trying to teach her a lesson, and I was the one truly learning.

  “No.” She pushed back, rubbing her ass on the length, showing me who was truly the boss.

  I growled in desire and kept her pinned to the table. “Did you know I would be coming back no matter what?”

  “No.” She slowly wiggled her hips like a cat in heat, yearning for something to hump.

  “Hmmm.” I was barely holding on. “Did you know I would have gotten on my knees and begged?”

  “No, Misha. Please.”

  “You should have known.” I thrust back into her, dotting each word with my cock. “Time? Space? There is none with us.”

  “Oh!”

  I didn’t let go of the bun, loving the way her back was arched, relishing in the way those breasts bobbed in the mirror’s reflection. “I would find you. No matter where you went.”

  “I wouldn’t hide,” she whimpered.

  Those words set me on fire.

  Her sex spasmed around my length, sucking me in deeper. Stretching tight around my cock. My body drummed in ecstasy.

  “Mine,” I growled and gripped those hips, sinking deep into her and then pulling out. Over and over. Sliding and thrusting.

  Like a deranged man, I screamed, “I told you forever!”

  “Oh,” she moaned.

  Bending Ava over more, I lowered my voice, falling into the tunneled ecstasy of her. “I told you forever, my love.”

  Back in my condo, I shook my head and gazed in the mirror some more. Thoughts of Ava pushed the weariness out of my eyes.

  In the middle of all the chaos, there she stood. Her presence anchored me. Due to her, there was quiet within the storm.

  A knock came at my door.

  I returned to messing with the bow. “Who is it?”

  “It’s your batya.”

  After the amazing sex with Ava, I headed back to my condo and, to my surprise, my godfather Rolan sat on the couch next to Maxwell. He was supposed to be in Prague dealing with my father’s funeral until I got there. Instead, he’d decided to harass and force me to come back with him.

  I twisted the bow in my fingers. “Come in.”

  Rolan stomped inside. With his muscular body and height, there would be no soundless steps or gentle walking. He stomped like the bear that he’d been nicknamed after.

  Rolan stood behind me in the mirror. “What are you wearing?”

  “Brioni.”

  Brioni was an Italian fashion house that focused on menswear for Europe’s rich and famous. Although their collection included leather goods, their fame came from perfectly tailored suits that started at $6,000 and kept on rising.

  Rolan sucked his teeth. “Kazimir and you have an unhealthy addiction to Brioni.”

  “I started wearing Brioni first. He copied.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You both should branch out to other designers.”

  “Why change perfection?”

  Rolan studied my fingers fumbling around. “Having trouble with your bow as usual?”

  “Yes.” I turned around.

  Rolan raised his hands, undid my mess, and started tying it properly. “Mikhail, why a simple black bow? Why not add some color? Gold or pink?”

  “It’s a ballet not a rave, batya.” I studied him.

  Rolan kept his head cleanly shaven and his gray goatee shaped up. Tonight, he wore a tuxedo with no bow. His tuxedo jacket appeared exotic with a royal champagne print. His biceps stretched the flamboyant jacket while his big thighs pushed against his black pants.

  Unlike the rest of us, when he wore a suit, he could never blend in. It was clear he was a gangster of some sort. My father had tattooed roses around Rolan’s throat after his mother Roza had died. More tattoos covered his hands—holy crosses and skulls.

  Rolan finished my bow. “There.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you’re not wearing hot pink.”

  He held out his hands and did a slow turn. “Do you like?”

  “I like it. It’s elegant but wild. I expected nothing less from you, batya.”

  Grinning, Rolan yanked me into a huge bear hug. “You make me happy with that compliment.”

  “Would you let me go?”

  “Oh, I won’t wrinkle you!” He released me and patted down my jacket.

  Maxwell entered, ending our discussion.

  I perused my new friend. He looked damn good in the tuxedo I’d ordered for him but he didn’t need much help in that department. Light brown skin. Hazel eyes. Tall with a good bit of muscle. He complimented the outfit. If anything, the tuxedo should be happy to be on him.

  “Hey,” Maxwell said. “The limo is downstairs.”

  “Good. I’m ready.” I grabbed my phone.

  “Hmmm.” Maxwell eyed my tuxedo. “We’re wearing the same thing again.”

  “We like to dress alike.” I winked at him.

  Maxwell leaned his head to the side. “Do we?”

  “Yes.” I walked out of the room.

  All will be solved in these next days. And everything will return to normal.

  Chapter 1

  Misha

  What else can I handle now? It’s time to get things in order.

  Natalya’s small face flashed in my mind. Last time I saw her, she was sleeping in her stroller. Little pink teddy bear headphones covered her ears. Blonde curls outlined her small face. She had pudgy little cheeks that were tinted pink. She was about six months old. I’d marked her birth date on my calendar.

  My heart warmed at that memory.

  Another dilemma.

  I still hadn’t dealt with the fact I was a father.

  I’ll have to deal with this.

  I left my bedroom. Rolan and Maxwell followed. I took out my phone and pulled up Valentina’s number. My men rose when I entered the living room.

  I stopped in the center of the room and texted Valentina.

  Me: We must talk soon.

  Valentina: About?

  Gritting my teeth, I stifled my annoyance and typed again.

  Me: I am Natalya’s father. I will be in her life.

  Valentina: You’re no more than a sperm donor. This is my daughter.

  I gripped the phone hard. Lucky for Valentina, Ava’s last performance was tonight. If not, I may have shown up to her place with armed men. Not that it would be a good idea. I was already on Kazimir’s bad side. My starting a war with his sister wouldn’t improve things.

  Me: Pick a day and time for us to talk or I will.

  No response came.

  I gestured for my guard to open the door. He rushed to it. I glanced at my other guard. “Any updates on Ava?”

  He walked with me out of the condo. “Her guards check-in with me every fifteen minutes. Currently, she’s in her dressing room, putting on her costume.”

  I headed down the hallway. “And her grandmother?”

  “Mrs. Jones’s guards said that she is finishing up her make-up and will be waiting for us when we signal you’re there.”

  “Good. Let Mrs. Jones’s guards know that we’re on the way. We can’t have any disruptions this evening. It’s the last night of the performance. Who knows when Bolshoi Theater will return for this season?”

  And if they would keep Ava
as a prima ballerina, after my killing their patrons.

  I checked my phone. There was still no response from Valentina.

  You’re going to make this as hard as possible, aren’t you?

  Worry coursed through my veins.

  I directed my attention back to my guard. “Put more men on Valentina and monitoring her place.”

  “Well...” He looked uncomfortable.

  “What?”

  “Her men keep killing any of our people that get too close.”

  “Then don’t get too close.”

  He nodded. “The few guards that are watching her must keep a huge distance.”

  “Did they put the trackers on Natalya’s stroller and baby bag?”

  “Yes. We also switched out her tiny baby bracelet with one of our own. It looks exactly the same but has a tracker in it. The man who did it barely made it out alive, but didn’t get caught.”

  You’ll never be able to hide her from me, Valentina.

  “Good. Valentina can’t leave St Petersburg. If she does, get everyone to stop her and then notify me.”

  “Yes, sir.” He took his phone out and walked back to the condo.

  I continued forward.

  I will be her father, whether you like it or not. Don’t make me kill you, Valentina.

  The thought delivered shivers up my spine. It would be the last resort, but one that was definitely on the table.

  Fathers were important. Although my father had been a difficult one to love, still he was an active part of my life. In my family, I always looked to him to lay down the rules and enforce them. And I would never have admitted this to him in real life, but I took pride in the feeling of security with him. I knew as a child and adult that I would always be protected.

  Too bad, I just wanted him to love me. Did he?

  All my life I yearned to make him proud. Instead of taking all his money, I went out and made my own. I built a mega empire through technology. So much that I could turn the world off and on at my fingertips. Unfortunately, he never understood my power. For Igor Stronz, muscle, scars, and guns represented true power.

  And my standing next to Kazimir never helped things. I loved my cousin, but whenever the Lion was in the room, the whole space suffocated from his overwhelming energy. I knew my father would have preferred Kazimir to be his son. They held the same ideas and beliefs.