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

and then peers around the room as though just realizing where he is. He makes a bow that almost ends with him falling flat on his face.

“Ladies,” he says. He spots Gary, the only male student. “And gentleman,” he adds, with a sneering laugh I don’t like at all.

“That’s enough.”

I grab him harder this time and drag him kicking and screaming to the exit. At least I’m getting in some early childcare practice, I reflect bitterly. As if I didn’t have enough to deal with tonight.

He stumbles into the parking lot, tripping on his own feet and rolling over and over. I try to fight the pitying urge that rises in me. I can’t, though, not with Rob. If I’ve got an Achilles heel, this loser brother of mine—addicted to drugs, drinking, gambling, and fucking up, in no particular order—is it.

I help him to his feet.

“What is it?” I ask, softer now. An idea occurs to me, guilt stabbing that I’m only thinking of it now. “Oh God, is it Mom? Rob, is Mom okay? Rob!”

“What?” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I mean, yeah, I think so. Why, has Jackie called?”

“No, you asshole. I’m just looking for a sane explanation for you embarrassing me like that. Do you even know what you just did? They’ll be gossiping about that until we graduate!”

“The fuck d’you care what they think?” he growls.

“It’s not about that!” I snap, raising my hand as if to hit him.

He flinches away, the perpetual coward. Again, my heart softens.

“Rob,” I sigh. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I just need a little …”

“Money,” I finish bitterly, when he gives me the puppy-dog eyes.

“I wouldn’t be here unless it was important!” he breaks out. “I was doing really well, Camille, like—if I’d just walked away after that flush, man, I would’ve been in. But then …”

“But then you got greedy. Then you started thinking about how your little sister could always bail you out. Then you remembered how selfish you are.”

He shrugs, denying none of it.

“How much?” I whisper.

“Just a thousand.”

“Just,” I laugh. “You live in a fucking dream world.”

“What?” He blinks at me in disbelief. “Are we gonna pretend that’s breaking the bank now? I know you’ve got it.”

“How much trouble are you in?” I say. “I’m not giving you booze money or drug money or fucking hooker money. So unless—”

“Trouble,” he whispers.

Whatever else is true about Rob, I can tell when he’s being deadly serious.

“But it’s all good, right? You’re not gonna leave me out to dry.”

Cursing silently, I reach into my pocket and take out my purse. I count out ten hundreds and hand them over. He snatches them quickly, spreading them and gazing at them open-mouthed like he’s just come across buried treasure, the greedy asshole.

“Are we done here?” I snap.

“You know, Camille, it’s got me thinking … where does this Erik guy get all his cash from? We know he’s a piece of shit, obviously, otherwise he wouldn’t’ve bought you. Has he told you? How much do you guys talk, anyway?”

“Is this a fucking interrogation?” I snap. I make to turn away. “I need to get back to class.”

Ever since Erik told me about the Bratva, I have been trying to push it down. There’s just too much to think about with keeping up with Mom’s payments, the always-present threat that, if I make a fuss, she’ll be left without the care she needs.

But now all the shame and guilt comes barreling back.

I’m going to give birth to a criminal’s child.

And then what? That baby will become just the same. Was I pushing this away because I have feelings for him? Have I really let myself slip so far into this fantasy we’ve created?

“Camille.” He walks around in front of me, blocking the door. “If you’re involved in anything shady—”

“That’s rich,” I laugh. “Pot—kettle—black? That mean anything to you?”

He raises his hands. “Fine, fair enough. But just think. You won’t be able to become a nurse if you get caught up in some criminal shit.”

I bite down, oh-so-thankful for another worry to add to the heap. But he’s right, I know. I’ve placed all my dreams in Erik’s hands and all too easily he could crush them.

“There is something going on,” he says, looking closely at me. For a junkie, Rob can be annoyingly perceptive when he wants to be. “You know, if the wrong people found out about that …”

“Are you really going to blackmail me, Rob? Jesus Christ.”

“I’m just saying!” he cries. “A detective came to see me the other day, a Carrot Top-lookin’ motherfucker. He had a whole lot of interesting theories—”

As if waiting for his cue, Detective McCauley strides from the shadows, a cigarette hanging between his lips. He flicks it to the ground and crushes it beneath his heel.

“I got tired of that Carrot Top stuff in elementary school,” he says, glancing at Rob but turning to me.

I glare at Rob. He at least has enough shame to look guilty, even as he tries to pretend to be as surprised as me. He’s biting his lip.

Jerk.

He was being charged with something and the resourceful detective saw his chance to pounce. He set up this meeting. I read it as clearly as if it was scrawled across his forehead. Was he trying to frame me?

I suppose it wouldn’t be smart to assault a man in front of a police officer, but it takes a lot of self-restraint not to smack my idiot brother across the face anyways.

“Miss Greene,” McCauley says. “How are you this fine evening?”

“Busy,” I grunt, walking toward the door.

Now it’s McCauley who slides into my path. The two worst—or best, depending on your perspective—doormen in the world.

“I thought we’d have another conversation,” he says.

“I have no interest in talking to you,” I say.

“No? Why don’t you let me do the talking, then? Let me tell you a story about how your life will look in ten years if you keep walking down this road.”

He raises