Sold to the Mob Boss: A Mafia Romance (Lavrin Bratva) Nicole Fox (most popular novels TXT) 📖

Then I think to myself: No.

I will not disappear and be forgotten. I’m not going to just vanish off the face of the earth. I’m not going to let some handsome devil in a suit make people forget I ever existed. One way or another, I’m going to get away from these bastards.

I need to start by figuring out more about my enemies, starting with the man in the back. I lick my lower lip the instant I think about the man who purchased me. A fancy car like this must cost a lot. More than I would ever make as an accountant.

So, who is he?

Who is the man who spent over two hundred thousand dollars to own me?

Chapter Eight

Nikita

The auction is over. The girl is escorted off the stage, Jimmy trailing behind. She fights back, crying out for help, but they lead her into the back without any incident. Everyone’s too smart to get involved, though not smart enough to stop gawking at her exposed chest.

Gino glowers as his eyes track her every move and I want to hit him. But I won her. He has no claim. And that fact is both satisfying and calming. As the crowd begins to disperse, Eitan and I stand and head to the right toward the meeting room.

Others are on their way as well, Gino among them. He shoulders past the crowd, not giving a fuck who he slams into. Of course, no one complains. Not after what happened just a few moments ago. And with the intensity of his scowl increasing, most of the patrons are heading toward the nearest exit to escape the Italian’s possible psychotic break.

I rub my temples.

Jumping in and outbidding Gino wasn’t a good idea, not with this meeting on the line. Hopefully, the fool will be able to keep calm enough so that business isn’t ruined. I turn to Eitan and tell him, “Text the men. I want extra security in the room and outside the door. No telling how Gino may react tonight.”

Eitan quirks a brow. I can tell what he’s thinking. Are you finally second-guessing what you pulled back there? But after my warning, he doesn’t dare say it aloud.

I stare straight ahead, not saying a word. I push open the solid wood door and enter the room. Most of the heads of the various families are there, as well as some of the key biker club presidents. I snort. It’s not every day you see bikers dressed in suits and all cleaned up. But proper appearance is a rule at the auction, and exceptions are made for no one. Rules are what separate us from the animals.

Besides, it amuses me to see them uncomfortable. They’re in my element, playing my game. And it will take a violent uprising indeed before I relinquish my seat at the head of the table.

A moment later, Gino bursts into the room, sweating and beet red. He narrows his eyes to mere slits as he walks past me, and takes his place at the far end of the mahogany table. Eitan heads over to the bar on the left and pours himself a scotch. Some of the men are already seated, sipping at their rum, and of course, there are the few who are snorting cocaine.

“Want a scotch?” Eitan asks, holding up an empty glass. I nod.

“Shiiit, Nikita. You feel like burnin’ a whole pile of money tonight, or what? What the fuck were ya thinking, spending so much on a slave?” The East Side Boys MC president shakes his head and laughs.

“You coulda just snagged her up before she even went on stage. Ain’t this your damn event, anyhow?”

“Sure is. Coulda gotten that pretty pussy for free,” one of the other bosses chimes in.

I smile coldly and ignore them. Eitan places my drink down in front of me and takes a seat at my side. I glance over to Gino, who’s stiff-lipped and silent. Gazes bounce between him and me, causing my stomach to roil. I pray that none of these impudent motherfuckers rile him up. He’s a live wire, dangerous and unpredictable.

Four of my lieutenants walk in and stand around the room. This meeting is semi-regular and used to conduct business and keep the peace. Any street warfare is supposed to be approved by the council before it can take place. This safeguards the families, and ensures that all of us make the appropriate adjustments to our businesses at the appropriate times in order to keep the police from peering too closely at our end of the city. In that sense, our interests are aligned.

But in another sense, this is a room full of sharks, deciding whether it might be more filling to take a bite of each other instead of our usual fare.

I swirl the liquid in my glass, listening to the chinking of the ice cubes, breathing in a fragrance that only years in an oak barrel can achieve. It’s my one vice and I make a virtue of it. I savor it as I sip and roll the liquid across my tongue, eyes closed.

“Eitan,” the East Sider continues, “Why’d ya let the kid waste all his money on that slave?”

My eyes snap open.

Eitan wisely demurs. “Mr. Lavrin can make his own decisions about what he wants to spend his money on.”

“’ey, Lavrin, what d’ya think about renting her out? Maybe make some of your money back. After you break her in of course,” someone else cackles.

Other voices start to rise, jesting at my expense. I slam my glass back down on the table with a crystalline thunk.

“Enough.”

The man who spoke last, a reedy bastard with nasty-looking face tattoos, laughs nervously and falls silent. The others shrug and mumble under their breath, but no one dares to go farther.

Except for Gino.

Gino holds still, staring at me, eyes locked with my own. There is a wrinkle in his nose, promising danger, like