Owned by the Mob Boss: A Dark Mafia Romance (Ivanovich Bratva) Nicole Fox (year 7 reading list .txt) 📖

door when his voice drifts over to me, intermingled with Camille’s laugh.

“My mother was a nurse,” he is saying. “I know a thing or two about the horror it entails.”

“Horror?” she laughs again. I clench my fist. It is one thing to come between me and my men, but quite another to come between me and my … what? My charge? She is not my woman, surely. Yet the anger moves through me with liquid force as if she were. “All jobs have bad parts, sure, but horror’s going a little far.”

“I stand by the statement!” Fyodor laughs. “You will find out soon enough.”

“Maybe I’m tougher than your mom, huh?”

“A brave assertion,” Fyodor says, far too at ease. “But looking at you, I will not refute it … ah, Erik.”

I walk around the corner, hoping I am masking my rage. I take Camille by the arm and nod shortly at Fyodor. “We will have to speak later,” I tell him tersely. “Camille is late for her nursing class.”

He bows, a caricature of respect. I wonder what is going on behind that ambiguous smile. “Of course,” he mutters. He bows again at Camille. “Until next time.”

I lead Camille outside as Fyodor takes his leave. She shrugs her arm free. “I do night classes, in case you’ve forgotten.” She eyes me closely, and then glances down the long driveway to Fyodor climbing into his car. “Ah I see. Typical male. I didn’t take you for the jealous type.”

“Jealous?” I laugh. “I want to make something clear. You are not to talk with other men while under my employment.”

Her mouth gets tight. “That wasn’t part of the deal, Erik.”

“I need to ensure that the child is mine. You understand.”

“No!” she snaps. “Actually, I don’t understand. The last time I checked, you couldn’t get pregnant by talking. Unless they skipped that lesson in nursing school.”

I want to reply, but I can’t think of anything that doesn’t sound stupid.

“Is that really why we’re out here?” she says when she sees I have nothing to say. “You wanted to make sure your friend didn’t make a move on me?”

She is enjoying this far too much. “No,” I lie. “I am taking you to visit Anatoly.”

“It’s nice to know you care, by the way,” she says when I make to turn toward the garage.

“It is a question of honor,” I reply without so much as glancing in her direction. “It has nothing to do with emotion.”

“Honor?” she giggles sarcastically. “All right, Mr. Chivalry. Do you want me to start wearing a tiara and a suit of armor, too? Maybe you should build me a castle in the garden.”

I dart my hand out and grab her wrist, pulling her close to me. Her body stiffens. That alluring mixture of lust and anger enters her blue eyes, as though she is annoyed at how badly she wants me. I can relate.

“Do you think this is a joke?” I growl. “This is my legacy we are discussing.” Again, it hits me that my legacy will be a living, breathing child. One not only conceived with this maddening woman, but also raised with her.

She grabs my chest, pulling herself even closer. “I was just talking, asshole. Now let me go.”

“And if I do not?” I smile.

She rolls her eyes. “This is bordering on intimate, you know. Remember our deal.”

“I remember it well enough.”

I wrap my arms around her and lift her off her feet. She gasps as I kiss her, her lips so tempting that when I begin, I find it difficult to stop. She grinds her body against me, sighing through the kiss. I explore her mouth, our tongues touching, my tongue tracing her teeth. The hunger I have never felt with another woman once again awakens.

It takes everything I have to put her back on the ground.

“Meet me at the car,” I growl, striding past her.

“Maybe!” she calls after me. “Or maybe I’ll keep you waiting! I’m not your toy, you know!”

I pause, turning. Her cheeks are bright red and her eyes wide and lust-filled.

“At the car,” I repeat.

“I’m not your dog, Erik!” she snaps. “Why don’t you ask me nicely?”

I walk away before she can see my smile, knowing she will follow—she has to—and annoyed at myself for revealing how much her loyalty matters to me.

“Please, come in!” Emily cries.

Anatoly’s wife always brings hospitality to a whole new level. She gathers us around the table near the balcony window, sunlight shining directly upon the meeting. She has already laid out appetizers and big pots of tea and coffee.

“Camille, would you like a glass of wine? I know it is early, but …” She is a large, homely woman, but when she smiles, she looks like a little girl with her freckled cheeks.

“I’m fine with coffee, thank you.”

Anatoly folds his hands. “Has my nephew been treating you well?” he asks, looking kindhearted despite his scar. He is wearing a sweater with a shirt collar poking from the top. Nobody would ever guess what this man is capable of.

I grin tightly at my uncle. We have a rule: the only time he can mention our family relationship is in the comfort of his own home.

“Well enough,” Camille smiles. For a second, I am sure she is going to air our dirty laundry, but she just smiles as she takes the mug of coffee. “He really isn’t as much of a beast as he pretends to be.”

“Beast, ha!” Anatoly laughs. “That is just the right word. More of a little lapdog once you really get to know him, right?”

Anatoly winks. I scowl.

“I love how you’ve done your hair,” Emily says a moment later, addressing Camille.

“Oh, thank you.” She touches it self-consciously, the waves falling to her shoulders. I think about running my hand through that hair, disarmed by how easily they seem to be getting along.

It shouldn’t matter to me, I remind myself. I just need an heir. Yet I can’t ignore how casual and familial this all feels.

“Do