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

by Kenya Wright

  And every night, Misha and I made love with no care in the world.

  Grandma always called two times every day. Each conversation she had me laughing. Instead of Rolan taking her straight to Misha’s family castle in Prague, he carried her off on an adventure to Latvia—a country she’d never even heard of. Apparently, he had a home there with a full staff. Grandma stressed to me that she slept in her own bedroom, but there was a giddiness to that explanation that made me wonder if other things were going on.

  She was having a blast in Latvia. There, she sampled the local cuisine—maizes zupa which was a Latvian dessert of bread soup, pīrādziņi which were crescent-shaped pastries full of onions, bacon, cabbage, and creamy cottage cheese, and finally wiener schnitzel. She’d found her favorite dish was grilled pork and dill-butter smothered potatoes. Rolan took her to the Town Hall Square in Riga—the capital of Latvia. She explored the famous buildings that sat on the square—the House of the Blackheads, the Latvian Occupation Museum, and the Baroque Clock Tower.

  On and on, she spoke of her adventures with such excitement. I was so happy that Rolan had truly given her a vacation. I couldn’t think of the last Grandma had gone on one. Usually, when she took time off, it was for my recital or to help her brother in New Orleans with an emergency.

  After a few days of peace, Misha believed it would be a good time to come up from the underground and have the meeting with Mrs. Hightower. Not only was I excited to talk with my new agent, I couldn’t wait to be above ground and breathe in some fresh air.

  To celebrate our outing, Misha ordered outfits for everyone and had them delivered to us. For me, he bought a black Alexander McQueen pants suit. It was a slim fit and displayed a unique designing. The blazer boasted leaf crepe with lace trim along the lapel. The same lace trim was in the jacket’s back, exposing the lower half of my back under the lace. Everything fit with no problem. I put it on and placed my hair in a neat bun.

  Once I was dressed, I sat on the bed and waited for the biggest diva in the room. “What are you doing over there, Misha?”

  “Making sure it fits just right.” While my attire said business with a sexy edge, Misha wore something more stylish. Staring in the mirror, Misha buttoned his jacket, turned around, and checked himself out.

  I laughed.

  He snapped his attention to me. “What? Is the color too much?”

  “You’re primping in the mirror is too much.”

  “I’m escorting you to your new agent. I want to look less like a thug and more like a CEO with a flair for fashion.”

  “You’ve never looked like a thug to me.”

  “That’s because you love my cock.” He brushed the jacket off by his shoulder and studied himself in the mirror again. “Throughout the city, rumors are rising of Leonid and my exploits. I don’t want that to hurt your career.”

  I gave him a sad smile. “What is meant for me will come. Period. Nothing or no one will stop my blessings. So don’t worry.”

  “Hmmm.” Misha stepped back. “It still doesn’t hurt to put—”

  Someone knocked.

  “Come in.” Misha turned around.

  Maxwell strolled in wearing the same suit that Misha had on. “A pink jacket? I don’t know, man. And why are we always dressed the same?”

  “Because you love it.” Misha looked back in the mirror. “And this isn’t pink. It’s old rose.”

  Maxwell frowned. “This shit is pink.”

  I giggled.

  Maxwell looked at me. “What do you think of my twin and me? Do we look gay as fuck?”

  “First of all, gay is not a color.” I grinned, rose from the bed, and walked over to Misha. When I got to him, I slipped my fingers along the jacket. “Second, I love the style.”

  Whether old rose or pink, the jacket was high end and designed with lavishness in mind. It definitely consisted of a combination of cashmere, silk, and linen. It wasn’t severely tailored. This was more of a casual fit. Both men’s attire was complete with black pants and shirts.

  “Very chic.” Still slipping my hands along his jacket, I circled Misha.

  He watched me in the mirror. Lust blazed in his eyes.

  I stopped behind him and whispered, “I’m going to enjoy taking this off later.”

  Misha’s jaw twitched as if later should be now.

  “Listen,” Maxwell spoke from behind us. “If you get me a sexy ballerina to take off my jacket later today, then I’ll wear pink, green, and any other color.”

  I glanced over my shoulder and winked at him. “I’ll work on it.”

  “I’m holding you to that shit, Ava.” Maxwell headed off. “I’ll be outside and by the car, man. Doing what I do.”

  Misha checked his watch. “We should leave, Ava. You can’t be late.”

  My stomach twisted.

  He gently took my hand. “Stop it.”

  “What?”

  “You look nervous. Mrs. Hightower came to you.”

  “You’re right.” I let out a long breath. “I think I’m getting a touch of imposter syndrome, wondering when someone is going to jump out and say, ‘No, Ava. We made a mistake. You actually suck.’”

  “You worked too hard for that to ever happen.”

  Misha guided us away from the bedroom and through his underground spot. After living here for several days, it had become an odd little home. As we walked through it, I smiled and whispered goodbye.

  When we walked outside, it took me time to get adjusted to the sunlight. I breathed in the fresh air and relished in a cool breeze tickling my skin.

  Naveen stood next to Maxwell, wearing a beige blazer, fitted navy blue pants, and a crisp white shirt.

  Maxwell gestured at Naveen. “Now this is a proper color.”

  “But he’ll be lost in the crowd.” Misha opened the door for me. “However, you and I, we’ll be the talk of the city. Old rose trumps beige.”

  Maxwell snorted. “They’ll be talking about us because motherfuckers will be wondering why we’re both wearing pink and dressed alike.”

  Laughing, I climbed into the limo. Misha followed. Naveen and Maxwell entered next. Once the door closed, the limo sped off.

  Across from us, Naveen sat next to Maxwell and didn’t look my way. In fact, he barely talked to me in these past days. The only time we shared words was if he happened to pass by me and it was usually a low excuse me. Other than that, he kept his distance.

  Does he dislike me? Or is he just a quiet guy?

  Naveen shrugged. “Don’t worry, Maxwell. His dressing you is a sign that he loves you. Instead of saying the words, he’ll buy you a jacket to show how much he appreciates you.”

  “Word?” Maxwell smirked at Misha. “I love you too, man.”

  Ignoring them, Misha turned to me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Excited and nervous at the same time.”

  “That’s a good thing.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Try Hightower out as an agent for a while. If you don’t like her then we’ll find you a new one.”

  I nodded. “It took O four tries before she found the right agent. Granted, O can be difficult to work with.”

  Naveen spoke up which shocked me. “Why would a ballerina need an agent?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Oh. Umm. We get an agent to stay relevant as well as get commercial gigs to supplement our income. Plus, agents negotiate contracts for dance jobs.”

  Naveen kept a stern expression. “What sort of commercial gigs?”

  “These would be bookings for film, television, and even places like Broadway. Have you seen the rapper Kanye West’s Runaway video full of ballerinas dressed in black?”

  Naveen nodded.

  “That would be a great example of a commercial gig for a ballerina. Kanye West even hired many to perform with him onstage at the music awards.

  Naveen turned to Misha. “And you would be able to handle Ava getting so much exposure?”

  Misha frowned. “She gets a lot o
f attention now and it hasn’t been a problem.”

  “There hasn’t been a problem?” Naveen scowled. “You’re fighting one of the most powerful oligarch families in St Petersburg.”

  “Besides that.”

  Maxwell raised his finger. “In all fairness, the motherfuckers brought it on themselves. They were pimping ballerinas.”

  Naveen directed his view to me. “And what’re your thoughts on Misha trying to kill himself?”

  I widened my eyes. “I don’t want him to do any of this—”

  “We’re done with the conversation.” Misha squeezed my hand. “What’s done is done. And no one is killing me—”

  “Besides Kazimir.” Naveen frowned.

  Fear rose inside me.

  Edge coated Misha’s voice. “We’ll leave for Paris soon.”

  Naveen looked at Maxwell. “How many times have you heard him say that?”

  Maxwell raised his hands. “Yo, I’m not in this.”

  Naveen returned to me. “Ava, if this is going to work between you two, you’ll need to get control of him.”

  “Trust me,” Misha interjected. “She has plenty of control.”

  Naveen sneered. “I’m talking to her, not you.”

  “And if you keep on talking to her, you may find yourself being thrown out of a moving limo.”

  I stirred. That didn’t sound like a playful tone. Misha’s words held violent promise.

  Maxwell jumped in. “So, Ava, how would you get onto a music video? That actually sounds like fun.”

  Naveen and Misha glared at each other.

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah. It would be a great opportunity. The agent constantly communicates with different casting directors. A good one always knows about opportunities, auditions, and upcoming projects. When a cool gig comes up, they’ll submit my headshot, resumé, and other materials to casting.”

  “Damn. That sucks. I was thinking about being your agent myself.”

  I smiled. “You might be a pretty good manager.”

  “Does that involve knocking a motherfucker out if he doesn’t pay you?”

  “Well. . .I don’t know about that, but it wouldn’t hurt.”

  “How much will this agent get paid?”

  “Ten percent of all my jobs.”

  Maxwell nodded. “Let a brother know if you need a manager with cool swag and a personable way of getting things done.”

  “You’ll be the first one.”

  Naveen studied Misha. “Where will this meeting be?”

  Misha replied, “Skazka. I have men surrounding the restaurant and snipers on the roof across from each exit and entrance.”

  Naveen didn’t look impressed. “And if the Xecutioners come?”

  “Circuit has a satellite on the place. He’ll be tracking where they go.”

  “It won’t matter if they kill you,” Naveen said.

  Misha’s jaw twitched. “They won’t.”

  “Who picked—Ava or the agent?” Naveen asked.

  I spoke, “The agent.”

  Naveen kept his view on Misha. “Have you checked the agent out?”

  “Circuit did the usual and Maxwell followed the agent around.”

  I quirked my brows at Misha. “What?”

  “Don’t worry, Ava.” Maxwell winked at me. “I’m good. She had no idea. She’s a simple woman. Wakes up before dawn and does yoga in front of her window. I think she likes to watch the sun go up while she’s doing upside-down dog or whatever the pose is.”

  I leaned forward. “How do you know that?”

  Maxwell glanced at Misha.

  Misha spoke, “We put cameras in Hightower’s place. Maxwell monitored them.”

  “Wait a minute.” I shook my head and took my hand from his. “She’s not even my agent yet, plus—”

  “We can’t take any chances.” Maxwell placed his hand in his lap. “She arrived at a convenient time. I had the job of making sure Mrs. Hightower was who she said she was.”

  Maxwell continued. “After yoga, your agent likes to masturbate to ballerina rehearsal videos. I don’t know if she’s a lesbian or if she has a thing for tutus. I actually have a fetish for them myself so—”

  “Hold up.” I put my hand in front of me. “You seriously invaded her privacy. You can’t do that.”

  Misha spoke, “Anyone that comes near you will be thoroughly checked out.”

  I glared. “But does Maxwell have to watch her masturbate?”

  Maxwell jumped in, “If it makes you feel better, Ava, I can send your new agent a video of my masturbating. Then, we’ll be even.”

  Tension rose in the limo.

  I turned to Misha. “We need to talk about this later. I don’t want things like this happening without my permission.”

  Misha nodded.

  Naveen snickered. “I told you that you better take control.”

  Maxwell continued. “She eats two fried eggs with kale every morning. Very disciplined about her eating. Next, she showers. Then it gets pretty boring after that. Lots of phone calls and messing with her computer. Every now and then she’ll meet someone for a business lunch or dinner, but she has no social life.”

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “And do you know the addresses of all her loved ones too?”

  Misha responded, “Just parents and siblings.”

  Anger boiled in me.

  As if knowing how much I wanted to yell at him, Misha nodded. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  “We sure will.”

  The limo arrived in front of Skazka and stopped. I looked out the window to calm myself down.

  This is my life. This is what I signed up for when loving Misha. . .but can I do this?

  Chapter 19

  Ava

  Minutes later, we sat in Skazka. Sitting inside the place felt like being at the center of an alluring jewelry box. The place mesmerized my eyes.

  Skazka meant fairytale in Russian and the décor embodied that definition. A luxurious turquoise velvet covered the booth seats and chairs. On the polished wood walls, tons of mirrors were framed in shining crystals. These mirrors diagonally hung, creating pyramids that reflected the room. Black feathers coated the chandeliers. Gold mugs and dinner china covered the tables.

  At the center of each table, porcelain ballerinas stood on one toe with the other leg high in the air. White tule served as the ballerinas’ tutus. The dancers held lit candles in their hands that gave off the scent of lavender mixed with lemon.

  Ever since I became the prima ballerina, there seemed to be no end to my adventure, from Misha’s glamorous life to my very own. It was still taking me time to get used to all of this.

  However, I wasn’t surprised that Mrs. Hightower chose this place for our meeting. Skazka was popular within the ballet industry, although I’d never had the money to eat here. The owner was Lada Grigoriev. Long ago, she’d been a prima ballerina at the Bolshoi Theater and enjoyed a lovely career during her twenties. When she turned thirty, she retired from ballet to start a family. When her kids became adults, she opened this restaurant. Last I heard, Lada’s son helped her manage this iconic place.

  At my table, Misha was next to me. There was an empty seat for Mrs. Hightower.

  Naveen and Maxwell sat at the table on our right. Yefim and my other men took up the table on the left.

  I leaned closer to Misha. “There are a lot of guards here.”

  “I told you that I’m not taking your safety for granted.”

  “Of course. I just don’t want to freak my new agent out.”

  “She’ll have to get used to it. When she meets with you, there will always be guards around.”

  “Even when this conflict with the Turgenev family is done?”

  “Yes.” He tenderly took my hand. “You’re famous, Ava. You should have guards regardless. Add the fact that not everyone is happy about a black prima ballerina in Russia and it doesn’t hurt to have some people around. And finally…your being with me makes you a targ
et for my enemies.”

  I studied him. “And what else?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You look like you’re holding some other information back.”

  He frowned. “I don’t like that you can read me so well.”

  “Besides dancing, I’m finding that I like watching you.”

  “That’s flattering.”

  “What are you holding back about the guards?”

  He moved in closer. “You have them because I don’t want any other man in your space unless he must be.”

  “There’s no need to be so possessive, Misha. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’m not worried about you. I’m thinking about the other men. You’re bewitching. One look and I could see a man risking death to steal a kiss.”

  “I would slap him.”

  “No need to raise your hand, when you have twenty men holding guns.” He gestured to the guards around us. “Are you ready for Mrs. Hightower?”

  I curved my lips into a smile. “The giddy nervousness is going away.”

  “I’ll order us some wine to help you remain relaxed.” Misha signaled for the waiter.

  One appeared right as Mrs. Hightower arrived. The waiter asked her if she wanted anything. She waved him away and put all her attention on me. “Ms. Jones, I am excited to sit down with you.”

  “Me too.”

  “I remember you tagging along a few times from my meetings with Olesya.” Mrs. Hightower held a somber expression. “I deeply miss her. It’s heartbreaking. She died too young.”

  An ache hit me. “She did.”

  “Still, I’m glad you gave me a chance.” Mrs. Hightower went straight to business, opening her briefcase and pulling out papers. “However, the world must continue while Olesya frolics and dances around in heaven.”

  I blinked.

  Mrs. Hightower turned to Misha. “And I am glad to meet you Mr. Stronz.”

  “Thank you.” Misha smiled. “I’m only here to support Ava. This meeting is about you two.”

  “I understand.”

  I placed my hands on the table. “So, where do we start first, Mrs. Hightower?”

  “First, call me Barbara.”