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

through the city. I imagine letting my hand slip on the wheel, speeding into another lane, and letting another car crash straight into me. It’s not some pathetic death wish. I just need a little more adrenaline, a little more stimulation, a little more physical pain to distract me from my thoughts.

I need a way out of this.

I start driving east. The skyscrapers slowly die out, replaced by brick stores, their American flags snapping in the wind. I keep driving until I see the whitewashed store with a pinwheel instead of a flag.

I park in front of the store. The decal on the window says Soft Horizon Salon. When I step inside, every instinct in my body tells me it’s not safe to be there, but I ignore it. I walk up to the owner, who’s standing behind a podium, jotting into a datebook.

“Hello, Sarah,” I say. The chemical smells of a salon sting my nose. “How’s business?”

Sarah Lyle, her bleached blonde hair curled around her shoulders, glances up at me. She tucks her arm closer to her body, but doesn’t show any more signs of fear. She’s wearing a tank top that’s tight enough that the outline of her bra is visible and her long pink nails click against the datebook as she sets her pen down.

“Mr. Alekseiev. You don’t have an appointment,” she says.

“No. I don’t,” I say.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” she says. “I was under the impression that you thought my business was too risky to be seen around.”

A man getting his neck shaved peers over in our direction. There’s also a woman getting her hair dyed. The woman is married to a gangbanger. I don’t recognize the man, but that doesn’t mean he won’t become an issue.

“I need information,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “Of course you do.”

I slam my hand down onto her hand. She yelps and tries to wrench it free, but I don’t let go.

“Don’t try me today, Sarah,” I say. “I wouldn’t even need to touch a hair on your head to ruin you. If I tell the police that you allow criminals to conduct their business in your shop and launder money for the Colosimos, they will tear this place apart. Even if they don’t find anything, the police presence alone will kill your business. And once they think you’ve fucked up, one of your criminal friends will kill you.”

I loosen my grip and she tugs her hand out of my grasp. She keeps her voice low. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about the police shooting,” I say. “Who was behind it?”

She shrugs. “Nobody here.”

“Sarah,” I growl.

“It was a random act,” she says, tucking her hands in her back pockets. “One man who lost his mind. I’m sorry that’s not the answer you want to hear but it’s the truth. A gang member was leaving when the shooter was brought in—he heard about it. He’s not affiliated with anybody.”

“Fuck.” I hit my fist against her podium. She jerks back. As I rub my forehead, she leans on the podium, her breasts nearly spilling out of her tank top.

“Did you want somebody to get into a lot of trouble?” she asks. “Possibly the Colosimos? I’ve heard you two aren’t getting along.”

I shake my head, rubbing my knuckles against my temple. “No. I just wanted to retaliate against someone.”

“For hurting the police?”

“For hurting someone I care about.”

“Hmm.” She picks up her pen and taps it against her lips. “You look exhausted, Mr. Alekseiev. I don’t have another appointment for another twenty minutes. Maybe I could help you sleep.”

“Fuck off,” I say. I turn around, wrenching the door open.

As I walk out, the anger bites at my ankles again. There has to be a way to get rid of this rage. There has to be a way to kill it.

* * *

Mariya’s Revenge headquarters is a five-story building predominantly constructed of glass. As I stride to my office, people avoid me, keeping their heads bowed to appear busy.

I stop at my secretary’s desk. Letitia is a twenty-six-year-old former model. I know there’s a lot of snark around her, accusations of her getting the job because of her looks, which is true, but she’s also the most efficient woman I’ve ever met.

She hands me a red folder. “Hammond wants your opinion on a new advertising agency, Quality Boulevard. Cooper is adamant about making a Mariya’s Revenge app. Gardner heard that you were dating the police chief’s daughter and he said—I’m quoting here—that you better fucking know what you’re doing. And a man claiming to be the police chief’s son is here.”

I stop mid-turn. “The police chief doesn’t have a son.”

“Yes,” she says. “That’s why I said he was claiming to be the police chief’s son. I looked into it after he left to get some coffee. He’s an Italian man, no facial hair, well-dressed, about five ten or five eleven, a hundred seventy to a hundred and eighty pounds. Late twenties or early thirties. Kind of slimy.”

I tap the folder against her desk. “Thank you, Letitia. You are irreplaceable.”

“I know.”

“Send him in when he returns.”

“Absolutely,” she says, turning back to her computer. I enter my office, setting the folder on my desk before sitting down.

Marco Colosimo, coming straight to the throne to test me. Any other day, it would be a mild irritation, but this morning, if he wants to try to hurt me, it will make my day to ruin him.

Letitia would have told me if Marco had come in with anybody else, but it still gnaws at me to see he’s alone. He’s taunting me. Showing me that he doesn’t need any guards, even when he’s in the center of my kingdom.

I watch him through the glass wall as Letitia opens the door.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mr. Alekseiev, but Mr. Harrington is here,” she says. She gestures for him to step in. He likely only took on the identity of Ally’s nonexistent brother because he believed Letitia would let