Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2) Nicole Fox (no david read aloud TXT) 📖

every sip. I don’t even realize what I’m looking for until I see him—the hot guy I maybe made eye contact with earlier. He’s leaning against the wall near the VIP area, scrolling through his phone.

I don’t get him. He doesn’t seem to belong here. He’s too serious, and he looks too bored. He’s wearing a slim-fitting black suit, with a black shirt and a red tie. It’s bold, but he’s not peacocking. He’s just... being.

As though he can feel my gaze, the man looks up from his phone. His gaze skewers through me from across the room. A blue light splashes across my face, and I have no doubt that this time he is looking at me. Everything seems to slow down around me and my pulse races. His mouth lifts ever-so-slightly in a smirk. My mouth is dry, and I down the rest of my drink in one gulp. When I look back up, he is already walking up the stairs into the VIP area.

I turn back to Clara and grimace. She and her new friend look as though they’re trying to eat each other, but at least she’s having fun, I suppose.

Clara breaks away and whispers something in the guy’s ear, then comes to talk to me.

“Hunter and I are going to get out of here,” she says. “You’ll be okay to get home, right?”

I nod, forcing a smile. “Sure.”

She smooches my cheek and grabs Hunter’s hand. The two of them disappear within seconds. It’s almost impressive, or rather, it would be if it weren’t so annoying.

I heft a sigh and glance down at my empty drink. I’ll grab one more for the road. There’s a bottle of wine waiting for me at home, and if I’m remembering correctly, I’ve got a big bag of Doritos in one of the cupboards.

I squeeze my way to the bar and order another drink, swaying to the music. The bartender, a gorgeous redhead covered in tattoos, hands me my drink, and I take a sip absently as she keys it into the till.

Only then do I realize that my wallet disappeared from the club at the same time that Clara did.

Gabriel

The bass vibrates through the floor, but it’s a lot quieter up here than it is in the club below. I am sitting in my usual booth at Fiamma, my favorite club out of all the bars my family owns in the city. It’s a good place to conduct business. There’s little chance of being overheard, and my father would never set foot here, preferring to keep to the old drinking holes he and his friends spent their youths in, shrouded in a cloud of cigar smoke.

To my left sits Vito Gambaro, my best friend since grade school. He will be my consigliere, my right-hand man, once I take control of the syndicate. For now, he’s my most trusted confidant, and the only person in the organization who I know without a doubt expresses loyalty to me and me alone.

Across from us sit Dom Rozzi and Diego Berdini. Dom is a good capo but takes his pleasures in the simple things in life, not caring much for politics or strategy. He thinks with his muscles and his dick, and doesn’t like any problem he can’t fix with his fists. True to form, Dom is staring lecherously at a pair of long legs that saunter past. Diego chuckles.

I lean toward Vito. “Is the meeting set?”

Vito glances at Diego, but the older man is too distracted by Dom’s drooling to notice our sidebar. “Yeah. They’ll meet with us at the docks tomorrow.”

I sip my whiskey. “Good.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Vito asks.

I send him a dark look.

Vito is immune to the power of my glares and leans closer, lowering his voice. “Your father will be livid if he finds out.”

My father is the don of the Belluci crime family and Vito is right—he will be downright furious if he learns that I am making plays behind his back. Unfortunately, it is a necessary evil. If my father has his way, he will bring ruin to the family and end a generations-long dynasty of power. He has always been a greedy man, but as of late, his greed has begun to consume him. I intend to prevent that from destroying us all.

“He will come around to see that it is the best move for the business,” I state. “He may act like one, but my father is not a fool.”

I hope that is the truth. Lately, his actions have shown otherwise.

We Bellucis command the majority of the docks, a vital piece of real estate for any criminal organization. The Irish mafia, run by the Walsh family, controls a small chunk for themselves. My father has been gearing up to wrest control of the docks from them entirely but cannot see why that is a bad idea. The Walshes are strong, and I suspect that they have another power backing them as they have had a recent surge in resources and capabilities. The don is blind to this. He refuses to think of the Walshes as anything other than the tick on our back that they have been for the past couple of decades.

“What are you two whispering about?” Diego interjects.

I look over at the older man. His dyed black hair is slicked back from his forehead, and fine lines furrow his face. Beneath his suit, his arms and chest are covered in faded tattoos, a map of the tumultuous life he has led for so many years.

Diego is like an uncle to me, and I wish I could trust him as he’d be a valuable ally to have. Unfortunately, he has been a close friend of my father’s since they were teenagers.

“Vito was just reminding me of the time that he and I snuck in here when we were kids,” I reply.

Diego laughs, exposing teeth yellowed by decades of smoking. “I remember that. I had to come down