Owned by the Mob Boss: A Dark Mafia Romance (Ivanovich Bratva) by Nicole Fox (best romantic novels in english .txt) 📗

I must look like an idiot.

Then Bethany discreetly slides a piece of paper across the table. I’m annoyed at first—I don’t want to cheat—but then I see that the answer is not written on it. It’s just a prompt.

It jolts the gears in my mind and I leap upon the answer.

“Good!” the professor cries. “So, class, what can we learn from this, specifically in terms of anticipatory care?”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I tell Bethany after class, when we’re packing away our things.

She shrugs. “Nothing wrong with a lifeline every now and then.”

“I would’ve been pissed if you’d written the answer,” I tell her.

“Well, I didn’t, so no harm done.”

“But why?” I urge. “I thought you wanted to be the queen of the realm, Miss High and Mighty, the Mother of Dragons and all that.”

She laughs quietly. “Oh, I still do. But … look, maybe I was a little cold with you last time, all right?”

“Feeling guilty?” I jab, making for the door.

“Hey, don’t be a bitch.”

“A bitch?” I wheel on her, ready to bark, only to be surprised when I realize both of us are smiling. “That’s a little forward, don’t you think? Especially since—if I recall correctly—you were the bitch of all bitches last time.”

We end up walking out to the parking lot together. She eyes Erik’s sleek sedan. I’m sure I see her mentally noting the upgrade from the busted-up Civic.

“I’ve been giving some more thought to the study group. I think I was too harsh before. It’s a great idea. I’m in.”

“Why the change of heart?” I ask.

She shifts from foot to foot, as though searching for an answer I’ll like instead of just telling me the truth. Or maybe my time with Erik is making me overly suspicious. It’s been so long since I’ve had a real friend; I’ve been so busy with Mom and simply staying afloat these past few years that I just haven’t had time. I should give Bethany the benefit of the doubt.

“I’m a little neurotic,” she mumbles, seeming embarrassed. “Ever since I went all get-out-of-my-face on you, I’ve been replaying it in my head, over and over. It’s stuck on a fucking loop, girl, and making the peace between us is the only way I can think to fix it.”

“That’s honest,” I note.

“Can we get dinner, or a coffee?” she blurts suddenly. “I know it’s late, but …”

I want to, I realize. It would be so nice to just sit with another human being and pretend to be normal. But Erik is strict about me coming home—home, ha!—right after class.

“I’ve got an early start tomorrow,” I lie. Really, my morning will consist of waking up in silk sheets and shrugging clinging dreams of Erik from my consciousness. “But another time?”

“Definitely!” she cries, utterly transformed from the ice queen she was last time. Is she mind-fucking me, trying to throw me off my game? I dismiss the thought. “Let me give you my number.”

She takes out her notebook. How retro. She scribbles it down on a corner of a page, tears it off, and hands it to me, all beaming smiles. Part of me still wants to be suspicious, but every other voice in my head is screaming at me not to be such a psycho.

I just feel like I’ve slipped into an alternate reality. Maybe I’m dreaming. I pinch myself and check that I’m not standing here naked. But reality seems intact; the pinch hurts.

“I’ll see you later then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I tell her, smiling warmly. “See ya.”

In the car, I sit back for a moment, going over the conversation, confused by her sudden change of character. Multiple personality disorder? Blackout drunk? Enticed by my fancy new car? All of the above?

But when I start the engine—and turn on the heated seats; thank you very much, Erik—I let my suspicions go. The day has been far too long, and tense, to be playing Nancy Drew.

Did I just make a new friend?

I think so. It feels weirdly good.

When I get to the mansion and Adrian informs me that Erik is not home, I’m pissed at the disappointment that moves through me like anesthetic.

Suddenly, I feel far more tired than I did walking up the path. I was primed for sex, for an argument, for a discussion, for something. Distantly, I wonder if I am becoming addicted to the man.

During the drive home, my mind was one step from a porn flick, playing lucid images of the carnal madness we would fall into the moment I stepped in the door.

Ashley emerges from the kitchen when I go to make a mug of tea, getting settled for bed.

“Erik won’t be home until early morning,” she says, reading me. “But I’ve prepared some light supper if you’re hungry?”

I smile. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

We eat the small dishes of beef stew at the little table in the corner. Ashley really is a next-level chef. What would normally be just a snack turns into an almost religious affair. I find myself savoring every bite, making hmm noises that would be over the top if they weren’t one hundred percent genuine.

“Jeez, Ash,” I smile afterwards. “Your talents really are wasted here.”

She smiles warmly, waving a hand. “Erik is good to me. He lets me take time off whenever I want. He never makes a fuss when I ask for a raise … which I’ve done many, many, many times.” She giggles, oddly girlishly from such a solid, capable-looking woman.

It looks like the evidence that Erik is not such an asshole is stacking up today, though part of me wonders why he is so patient with her. And what does she need all that time off for? But it’s not my place to pry, I remind myself.

“Oh, I haven’t mentioned this yet,” I say, “but I wanted to thank you for the clothes. Erik tells me you’ve been picking them out for me. I was