Unprotected with the Mob Boss: A Dark Mafia Romance (Alekseiev Bratva) by Fox, Nicole (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📗

I swallow back the disappointment. I’m not going to go upstairs and look for him. I don’t want him to get the idea that he’s on my mind.

I return to the hallway and stop at the den. The ammunition box and all of its contents are gone. I move over to the home bar and pour myself a rum and Coke. Grabbing a book, I sit down to read.

* * *

The low rumble of voices.

The burning in my thighs.

The sensation of a crater-dry tongue.

I slowly open my eyes. There’s a kink in my neck from my neck resting against the armrest. I rub my eyes, sitting up. The book has fallen to the floor. I pick it up, setting it on the end table.

A laugh. I haven’t heard Lev laugh, but this one seems too relaxed to belong to him.

I stand up, still feeling the achy tension in my legs. I don’t know what I was thinking, agreeing to run with Lev.

Mostly, I wanted to keep him appeased, so he didn’t strike out at my father. But another part of me wanted to go wherever he went. I didn’t want his mind to be filled with the serenity of a good workout. I wanted him to learn that I was more than the chief’s daughter. I didn’t want him to forget about me.

I look out into the hallway. It’s dim. Either the storm has cast the city in a shadow or several hours have passed. The laugh echoes in the mansion again. I move in the direction where it came from, deeper in the house.

As I get closer, I start to hear voices. One of them is animatedly telling a story.

“—absolutely insane. She looks like she has half a mind to grab her keys and start slashing my face. I’ve abandoned all hope of reconciliation at this point. She’s ready to murder me. She’s tiny, but she’s full of enough wrath to take down an army. So, I do the only thing I can think of—I tell her that I’m a mole.”

I hear the rumble of another voice, but I’m not close enough to understand it. I keep moving forward, my steps softer now that I’m closer.

“I know,” the first man says. “She believed me, though, and in her mind, it was better for me to be a backstabbing rat than someone who just abandoned her. The woman would have accepted any other narrative than the truth where I simply didn’t care for her.”

I see lights now, coming from the dining room area. I stay to the right side of the hall to avoid them seeing me approach. When I reach the doorframe, I press against the wall.

“God never made a bigger mistake than giving people too much confidence and not enough common sense,” Lev’s voice thrums under my skin.

“Ah well, I worship him every day for it.”

The clink of glasses tapping against each other.

“Speaking of arrogant idiots,” Lev says. “How is the situation with Duilio?”

Duilio. The word feels familiar.

“Mmm,” the other man says. “Nobody has found anything. His men must know by now. They haven’t blatantly made any moves, but our men have noticed their usual places are emptier than usual.”

“Rats fleeing from the ship or a snake preparing to strike?”

“We can’t say either way right now. Lev, I know that it was necessary to do and—”

“Ilya,” Lev says. “Hush.”

“I’m sorry, Lev. I don’t mean to speak out of turn.”

“It’s not that. I see a shadow. Come out, Allison Harrington.”

He enunciates my name like every syllable is a dart, striking the bullseye every time. I look down at my shadow. It’s barely visible. It could have easily been mistaken for bad eyesight.

I step out into the doorway. Lev is sitting with another man. The man is around his age, but he reminds me of a time that I don’t want to remember—a time of blood loss, pale bodies, and a grief that hit me harder than the car.

“Ilya, this is my future wife, Allison Harrington.”

My stomach drops at the blunt reminder this man holds over me. Over my entire future.

“Allison, this is my assistant, Ilya,” Lev says, gesturing between the two of us. Ilya, stands up, smiling. He’s so pale and sickly looking, but he exudes a genuine warmth.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Harrington. I don’t have anything contagious,” he tells me as he outstretches his hand.

“Oh no, I’m sorry. I hope I wasn’t staring,” I say, shaking his hand. His grasp is soft—not desperate to prove his strength. “I just didn’t expect anyone else to be here.”

“It’s fine, Miss Harrington. I’m used to people staring. We can all just assume that my ancestors survived by convincing everyone we were so sick that nobody should bother coming close enough to kill us. Or maybe they thought we were vampires. Either way, we made it here, so it can’t be too bad. Why don’t you sit down? We’re just enjoying a small meal. I’d love for you to join us.”

For the first time, I notice two Styrofoam boxes in front of them. They’re both filled with shish kebabs. The scent lures me into the chair between the two men.

I take one of kebab sticks out and, in spite of feeling slightly nauseous after being reminded of my ‘engagement,’ I bite into one of the meat chunks. The marinade is perfect, balancing a sweet, salty, and savory flavor. As I chew on it, it occurs to me that Ilya wasn’t surprised to be introduced to Lev’s ‘future wife.’ But he wasn’t congratulatory either.

As I turn to look at him, I see him exchanging a look with Lev. There’s faint disapproval in Ilya’s eyes, but Lev’s gaze is as remorseless as usual. Ilya catches me looking and smiles at me.

“How do you like it?”

“It’s great,” I say. “I haven’t had kebabs in a long time.”

“They’re actually shashlik,” he says. “They’re a Russian dish.”

“Oh. You’re