Stolen by the Mob Boss : A Russian Mafia Romance (Bratva Hitman) by Nicole Fox (classic fiction TXT) 📗

because I witnessed something I shouldn’t have. Instead, we’d have a coffee-shop romance. We’d bump into each other somewhere, decide to grab a cup of coffee, and our story would start from there.

I know that would make everything much less complicated. I could tell Nana who he is without having to lie to her about his career. I could bring him around my friends. We could go on double dates with Madeline. Everything would be different.

But then I remember that if I didn’t know about what he did for a living, I wouldn’t understand so much about him. I wouldn’t get his quirks or understand why he acts the way he does. Try as I might to imagine a world without knowing his dark history and the unspeakable things he’s done, I don’t see us working out if I didn’t know the honest truth about the person that he is.

“You should get some sleep,” he says, his words muffled as he talks against my tangle of hair.

“I know.”

“We have to be up early tomorrow.”

The reminder makes my stomach flutter with anticipation. This is what I’ve wanted since I was a child. This is the day I’ve dreamed of, when I can finally make Konstantin pay for everything that he did to me and the countless other people that he’s left traumatized in his wake. He’s finally going to be stopped.

So why do I feel so nervous?

Is it because I’m not sure where this will leave me and Roman? Possibly. I’ve never been good with not knowing how things are going to play out. That’s why I try to outline as much as I can before I start writing. I don’t like drawing blanks. I don’t like being out of control of a certain situation, and with Roman, I have no idea what’s going to happen ten minutes from now, let alone days.

But I also wonder, what will I be if I’m not vibrating with rage towards Konstantin? I know that he surely hasn’t thought about me since the day he was found not guilty of negligence. To him, I must’ve just been a blip on his map, something to be forgotten about once he beat the charges. But to me? Abram Konstantin is my whole life.

He’s the reason I got into true crime. He’s the reason I have such a morbid fascination with people that can kill and feel nothing. Every book I checked out from the library that dealt with serial killers and the monsters of society was because of him. Every podcast I scared myself listening to was because of what this man did to my family.

What if I don’t know how to be my own person once he’s out of the picture? I’ve practically dedicated my entire life to this man, and once he’s out of the picture, I have no clue who or what I’ll be. Will everything in my world stop mattering? Will this book I’m writing remain unwritten?

There are too many questions racing through my mind to fall asleep, and Roman does so before I do. Not that I mind. My favorite part of sharing a bed with him is how soft he seems when he’s asleep. I tilt my head back and look at his face, now smoothed out and resting. Lightly, I trace the line of his jaw with my fingertips, then brush them over his lips.

Tonight could very well be the last time I ever see him. I want to permanently burn his image into my memory, just in case.

Finally, after I take a slow breath and force myself to stop thinking the world is going to end, I feel my eyelids grow heavy and the thoughts of tomorrow fade away. In a matter of minutes, sleep comes for me, and I embrace it with open arms.

***

In the morning, I let out a long yawn and reach with my left hand to rub the sleep from my eyes. I get a few inches before my hand is yanked short. Confused, I blink away my dreams and turn to look to my left. What I see doesn’t make any sense.

There’s a rope around my wrist, tying me to one of the posts on the bed. My other hand is tied the same way, on the opposite post. My feet have been tied as well.

Panic bubbles in my stomach, and I tug at the ropes, fruitlessly trying to loosen them. “Roman!” I scream.

My mind begins to race with all kinds of scenarios. Someone found us and has already killed Roman downstairs. They tied me up, and now they’re going to come back and do things to me that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. My heart begins to race, and frantically, I jerk my limbs back and forth, hopelessly.

“Roman! Help!”

He appears in the doorway of the bedroom, a somber look on his face. For a minute, I’m relieved that my worst nightmares haven’t come true. He’s okay. He’s not dead.

But then it hits me: he did this.

“You ass,” I say, laughing nervously. “Come untie me. This isn’t a funny joke.”

He looks to the side, clearing his throat. He won’t look at me. “No.”

“What? Stop being a jerk. Untie me.”

“I’m not going to do that,” he says, finally looking at me again. The tone of his voice is determined.

“Why not? I have to get ready. It’s almost time to grab Konstantin.”

“You’re not coming with me.”

That statement is like a punch to my gut. I feel the wind knocked out of me, and I turn my head to the left, trying to pretend that I didn’t just hear him correctly. No, there’s no way he would lie to me and lead me on like this. He wouldn’t tell me that I could help him, take me to his safe house, and then just leave me here. No, that’s not possible.

“This isn’t funny,” I whisper.

“I’m not joking.”

Exploding with anger, I shout, “You fucking asshole, untie me!” I tug at the ropes again, harder, angrier this