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

waste. One second could be the difference between making it out of here, and getting dragged back in by the suited brutes patrolling this place. If Jimmy comes back and finds me halfway out of the penthouse, there’s no telling what he’ll do, especially with the boss not around to keep him from laying his hands on me.

So I have to go now. Right now. I race across the tile barefoot and slide the keycard into the slot, smashing my finger over and over into the button while I beg the elevator to hurry the hell up. This is my chance at freedom. My chance to escape. And I need to get out of here if I want to survive. The electronic display with the floor numbers ticks up, one by one, agonizingly slowly.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” The baritone voice cuts through me like shards of glass.

Nikita.

I thought he was still away from home, gone to wherever he goes during the day. Do mob bosses have offices? I’m not sure. Not that it matters now. I turn my head over my shoulder and spot him at the far end of the hallway. He looms in the doorframe, tall and broad, a silhouette of dark power.

He starts to stride towards me.

“Hurry up, hurry up,” I mutter to the elevator as I mash the button again and again. I can hear the gears whirring as the cables guide the car up towards me, but it’s not going fast enough. I hear Nikita’s feet pounding into the marble floors as he races towards me. It’s a long hallway, but not that long.

Ding.

The doors slide open. I jump inside. My breath is coming in ragged gasps as I whirl around and frantically search for the button to close the doors. Moments pass me by, too fast, like sand falling through my fingertips no matter how hard I try to keep it cupped. He’s going to stop me, he’s going to stop me, he’s going to stop me ...

I find the “close doors” button and press it. The doors start sliding closed. I’m going to make it. I can feel my heartbeat drumming in my rib cage, a million beats per minute, a billion, I can’t breathe ...

Then Nikita’s hand thrusts between the doors.

They shudder to a stop and reverse direction, revealing him in all his dark Russian rage. His brow is furrowed, and one black lock of hair has fallen out of place over his forehead. He smooths it back as he stares at me. There are storm clouds building in his eyes. He’s angry. Very, very angry.

But even in the middle of this scary moment, where I feel like he might just kill me for this little stunt, I can’t help but notice how utterly beautiful he is.

I don’t have long to focus on his sex appeal, though, because with one step, he crosses the distance between us, wraps one strong hand against my throat, and slams me against the back elevator wall. He presses his forehead up against mine, and I can see deep into the storms swirling in his dark irises.

“You aren’t going anywhere,” he hisses.

I’m not sure whether I want to kiss him or kick him. I’m not sure which one he would prefer, either. Something tells me this man likes a little fight in his women.

The desire to keep resisting wins out. “Like hell I’m not,” I spit. I try to pry Nikita’s fingers off me, wriggling to escape his grasp, but it’s no use.

Keeping his hand on my throat, he spins me around and pushes me back into the penthouse. He grabs the keycard from the slot and the doors close. The elevator hums as it plunges away, without me in it. I feel like I’m watching my dog get run over by a car, and I’m just here, mere feet away, completely and utterly helpless. Nikita stands between me and the only way out. And he’s not moving anytime soon.

I reach a hand up to my throat, where Nikita’s fingers have left a painful red mark. The air-conditioned oxygen surging into my lungs is sweet, but not as sweet as a breath of fresh air outside would’ve been.

“Do you think you’re going to take me down, Annie?” he smirks.

I look down and realize I’ve fallen into an aggressive crouch. My hands are balled into fists and adrenaline courses through my veins. But Nikita’s arrogant question takes the fight right out of me. I sag, defeated. We both know that there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that I can overpower him, take the keycard, and manage to get away before his guards arrive.

He sees the fighting spirit dissipate and smiles again coolly. “I will not punish you for trying to get away this time,” he says. “But I won’t look kindly on a second attempt. Don’t try to leave. You belong here now. This is your home.”

I snarl back, “No, it isn’t. It will never be.”

He steps closer, wary and smooth, like the jungle cat he is. I freeze as he raises a hand to gently stroke the side of my face. Up close and personal once again, the aroma of his cologne wafts into my nose. The woodsy blend suits him. And the heat radiating off his body further floods my senses. Because the dream I had last night wasn’t enough, now I have to stand this close to the sexy devil. And damn my traitorous body for responding to him. My nipples pebble under his gaze and I clench my knees together.

He looks like he wants to say something. But instead, Nikita steps back. The anger I saw rising in him is gone now. The mask of calm control has settled back in place. “Let’s eat.” The faint Russian accent on the edge of his voice sends an unusual chill down my spine.

I have no choice but to follow him out onto the porch. There’s no way I can escape right