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

beg. “Men like them don’t like hearing the word ‘no.’”

“Just ask,” he snaps. “I’ve got three other orders to fill.”

Gritting my teeth, I turn, ready to go back into the lion’s den to ask them a question I already know the answer to, when Sara almost runs right into me.

“Whoa!” I exclaim.

“Sorry,” she says. “Sorry. Listen, Emily, why don’t you let me take that table?”

“Really?” I ask, relief surging through me.

I do feel a little bad palming the table off on her. But I’m just so tired and my spine feels like it’s on fire.

“Sure thing.” She smiles brightly. I just want to hug her. “You hide out here for a bit and I’ll go handle the table. I’ll ask them about the pork ribs.”

I sag in thanks as Sara disappears back into the restaurant. Turning, I take a seat on one of the little stools in the hallway that the staff uses to steal a quick break from time to time.

My legs cry with relief.

But I haven’t even been sitting five minutes before Sara returns with a grim look on her face.

“Oh, God, what happened?”

“I’m sorry, Em,” Sara sighs. “They want you.”

“What?”

“They told me… um… They’re horrible,” she admits. “I tried to tell them that you’d clocked out for the night but—”

“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I can do it. Thanks anyway.”

“And Jose… they want steaks,” she calls over to him.

I glare at him. “Told you.”

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fine, I’ll send Larry out to buy a few steaks. They’ll have to wait.”

I know that means I’ll have to deal with them for longer.

This is so not my night. Sara gives me a reassuring look and pats me on the shoulder as I move back into the dining area.

The moment I appear, a round of hooting and wolf whistles rise up from table three. I grit my teeth and approach them.

“We’ll get your steaks,” I say, brusquer than I should be with any customer. “But it might take a little longer than usual.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” the man with the eagle tattoo remarks. “We have you here to keep us entertained.”

“What’s your name?” the man closest to me asks. He’s got bloodshot eyes and a nose so sharp it looks cartoonish.

“Emily.” Even after three months of my new identity, it still sounds clunky coming out of my mouth.

“You don’t look like an Emily.”

I just shrug. What am I supposed to say?

Good call—you got me! I’m actually Esmeralda Kovalyov, neé Moreno, daughter of one of Mexico’s most powerful cartel bosses and the estranged wife of the don of the Kovalyov Bratva. But really, the pleasure is all mine.

As fun as it would be to see these assholes shit themselves, I can’t imagine that ending well for me.

“How old are you?” another one asks me while I fantasize about stabbing them.

“Why does that matter?”

They laugh as though my irritation is exactly what they’re going for.

“Damn, kitty has claws!”

I bite back the retort on my tongue. “I’ll bring over the steaks as soon as they’re ready.”

“Are you hungry?” Eagle Tattoo asks me.

I stop reluctantly and pivot to face them again. “What?”

“I asked, are you hungry?” he repeats, enunciating each word like I’m an idiot. “Because I’ve got a delicious piece of meat that I’m sure you’ll love.”

This fucking asshole.

My skin prickles with heat. I can’t help wondering how a certain tall, dark Russian would react to these men.

I chase that thought away as soon as it comes.

You’re on your own, Esme. There’s no tall, dark Russian to come to your rescue anymore. There’s no point thinking about him now.

“I’m vegetarian,” I reply smoothly. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Beer,” Eagle Tattoo says. “Lots of it.”

I bring four huge pitchers of beer to their table and then scuttle back to the kitchen the moment I can. I feel their eyes on me the whole time.

It makes me want to scream.

I need just one fucking minute away from their awful stares. Anywhere is fine, as long as it’s away. I don’t even think about where I’m going until I end up in the walk-in refrigerator.

The cold feels good against my fevered skin. I try and breathe, rubbing one hand against the crest of my stomach.

The baby is kicking furiously. I wonder if that’s because he can sense how agitated I am.

Then the door to the walk-in freezer opens. I turn to find Sara, looking at me with concern.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

She’s a sweetheart and a good friend, but it pains me that I can’t tell her everything. Not even my real name. Not even that one little, insignificant fact about who I really am.

“Sorry. I just needed to catch my breath,” I say. “I’ll be out to help in just a second.”

“There’s no need,” Sara tells me. “Michael arrived early for his shift and there are only a couple of tables left. We can manage. You take your time.”

I smile gratefully. “Oh, you don’t need to…”

“You can go home if you want,” she suggests.

“What about the assholes at table three?” I ask.

“Michael can handle them,” she says with a shrug. “He’s plenty scary himself.”

That’s definitely true. Michael is ex-military and doesn’t tolerate bullshit in any forms. Especially not the “I’ve got a delicious piece of meat you’ll love” variety.

He’s a teddy bear on the inside, but you have to get to know him to see that side of him.

“Thanks, Sara.”

I expect her to leave, but she takes a step towards me.

“How are you, Emily?” she asks.

I flinch. Not because of her proximity, but because she really believes my name is Emily. The more I get to know her, the more it feels like a betrayal to keep certain things from her.

“Fine,” I reply vaguely. Details are what get you every time. Better to stay distant, abstract.

“I’m worried about you.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Why?”

She sighs. “Because you’re over-worked and very pregnant,” she says. “If you need money, I have some saved up.”

My eyes fill with tears of gratitude. It’s been a hard three months. Maybe