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

… Ah, we are playing a game. You saw something, didn’t you, Bethany?”

She rubs her hands up and down her legs.

“I really do like her,” she whispers. “This is fucked up. This is wrong.”

“What did you see?” I growl. “She was talking with a detective, wasn’t she? A red-haired man. Wasn’t she?”

Her shoulders sag and she looks at me like I’ve just slapped her across the face. Tears sting her eyes. I am taken aback, but I suppose I shouldn’t be. I know firsthand the effect Camille can have on people.

“Her brother stormed into class last night …”

She tells it all: following them out, peering through the door, watching as Camille and McCauley had their little meeting.

My knuckles are white by the time she finishes, hands shaking. I almost take out my cell phone and call Camille right now. I will remind her of what is expected from a Bratva boss’s woman. I will put her in her place like I should have before this mess started.

I was a fool for ever trusting her.

“She’s a good person, Mr. Ivanovich,” Bethany whispers. “She doesn’t deserve …”

“What? Me?” I nearly laugh.

“No,” Bethany says. “I just think you should cut her some slack. She’s in a tough spot.”

I sigh and shake my head.

If this woman thinks Camille is in a bind, she knows nothing of life. True, Camille has to juggle her family, her commitment to me, but she isn’t the one with violent men waiting in the wings ready to take everything she has.

I stand up, a plan formulating in my mind. It is time I stopped taking a back seat.

Camille and I sit on far opposite ends of the table like a disgruntled rich couple. Perhaps that is what we have become. Candlelight reflects in her stark blue eyes, fluttering to me every few seconds.

Adrian pours her a glass of juice and refills my wineglass.

“Well, this is romantic,” she says, trying for a smile.

“The starters will be served soon,” I tell her. “I have instructed Ashley to spare no effort.”

“Does she ever?”

I ignore her question and turn to Adrian. “We are ready now,” I tell him.

He nods shortly. “Yes, sir.”

He leaves the room and a moment later returns with two extra plates and sets of cutlery. Camille eyes him quizzically, almost making me question this scheme. He lays them out in his orderly manner.

Then Bethany and Detective McCauley walk in, right on cue.

Ashley follows closely behind with a tray of shark-fin soup, shooting me a daggered, resentful look. She does not approve, of course.

I watch Camille closely, judging for any sign of deceit. But mostly she just looks stunned.

“What are you doing here?” she says, directing the question at Bethany.

“I’m so sorry,” Bethany whispers, slumping down into her seat. “I have something to tell you. Come outside for a sec, please.”

“Okay …” Camille looks at me, eyebrows raised. I nod.

The ladies leave.

When they’ve left the room, I gesture at the bottle of wine. “Help yourself, Detective.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” McCauley says, smiling like a snake.

We drink in silence for a few moments. I can see McCauley’s gaze out of the corner of my eye, roaming over every inch of the room. He’s picking it apart, analyzing, looking for secrets. He is a fool if he thinks he will find any.

Camille’s face is twisted in betrayal when they reenter the room. She drops heavily into her seat and stares at me, hands gripping the table. For a moment I think she is going to flip it over.

Then she sits back, laughing throatily.

“I guess I shouldn’t’ve expected anything less, huh, Erik?”

“It was necessary,” I say. “Now, why don’t we all try to enjoy our dinner?”

“Gladly,” McCauley says, rubbing his hands together.

Perhaps he thinks befriending me will make me more likely to offer up secrets. If so, he is an even bigger fool than I suspected. I don’t relax. I don’t make mistakes. And I don’t fold under pressure from a pissant like him.

“So all of it was bullshit?” Camille breaks out.

She does not touch her food.

“No!” Bethany cries. “I just … I needed the money, Camille. And I wanted to keep you safe. Can you really blame me for that?”

“And you did a fine job,” I add, thinking of the attack.

Detective McCauley’s head snaps back and forth as he tries to work out what they’re talking about.

“This is delicious!” he breaks out a moment later, stuffing soup-soaked bread into his mouth. “But I’ve gotta say, Erik, I was surprised by your invitation.”

“I like to maintain a good relationship with the police, even if they are showing an unhealthy and unproductive interest in me.”

Camille makes a small scoffing sound. I snap my gaze to her, giving her a warning look. I am watching for any sign between her and McCauley, however small. That is why I instructed Bethany to reveal the truth of our arrangement now: to throw Camille off-guard.

I have to fight hard to force down the shame that tries over and over to consume me. Camille looks devastated. Part of me is already regretting it, but another, larger part knows what is necessary to keep the Bratva afloat.

An endless battle rages within me.

“With all due respect,” McCauley says, “we wouldn’t be looking into you if we didn’t have a good reason.”

“What do you think, Camille?” I ask. “You have worked for me for a number of weeks now. Is the detective’s interest well-placed?”

I lean forward, heart pounding fiercely in my chest. Have I made a mistake? I feel cruel and mean at the panicked look in her eyes.

“They have to do their job.” She stares at me challengingly. “I’m not a cop, Erik.”

“But you are in a good place to judge my character,” I reply. “So?”

She pushes her chair back.

“You’re a good man,” she says, scowling. “But I think sometimes you forget that.”

She stands up and makes for the door.

“Camille!” Bethany yells, leaping up to go after her.

I let out a shaky sigh, remembering the way my father would