The King: Bratva Blood: (A dark mafia romance)

by SR Jones

  I sigh and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Can you erase those footprints?”

  “No can do, or at least, I can’t, and I’m pretty shit hot at this stuff. It is doable, but it’s above my grade.”

  “Fuck. Okay, can you do something else then? Can you erase any connection between Cassie? She’s the one with the big feet and an employee of mine, and her immediate family? I’m taking Bigfoot with me, but her family will be in danger. There’s only two of them, her grandparents.”

  “Yes, I can do it. It’s not that difficult. I can create fake family ties too, to make it more realistic.”

  “Okay, do that. And you can’t cover up Cassie’s tracks completely, but you can muddy the waters of who she is, right? Mess up her identification, make her hard to find?”

  “Yes, that I can do. He’ll find she’s been in there, if he’s got anyone remotely decent on his staff looking at this shit, which, with him being Popov, he might not have. If he’s already found out someone has been in his shit, then he’s either traced it back to them, which means he might already have her info, or much more likely, he’s traced it back to where the intrusion has been done; which means your company, which ultimately means you.”

  “I can handle myself,” I say. “It’s Cassie I’m worried about.”

  “Okay, I’ll make sure there’s no link between her and the grandparents. I’ll try to muddy the waters around her as best as I can, but it depends how much he’s already seen and what he already knows. Your best bet? Make her disappear. Give her a new identity, new appearance, a private jet somewhere, and she stays away a long time.”

  I know two things. One, Cassie won’t go for that, not while her grandpa is sick. Two, I’m not going for that. If I send her away with a totally new identity, I won’t know if she’s okay. I won’t be able to track her in any way or how she’s doing. No, that’s not an option.

  I’d rather keep her close where I can keep her safe for sure. It seems the best way to me. The only way.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Cassie

  My mouth is dry, and my heart is pounding as I gather my things. All the while Konstantin talks about me and decides the next few weeks, maybe even months, of my life as if I have no say. I don’t have a say, do I? Not if I want to keep my grandparents safe. Some of his conversations are in what I presume is Russian, and I can’t understand a word.

  How did I end up in such a mess?

  I fumble and drop things as I clear out the drawers in the desk.

  “Bring the laptop and anything you have used, pads you’ve made notes on, any-fucking-thing,” Konstantin orders.

  Then he goes back to his phone. He makes two more calls and speaks again in Russian. When he’s done, he comes over to me, pinches the material on the front of his trousers to give some slack before perching on the edge of the desk.

  “I’ve looked into the medical situation with your grandfather. There’s a couple of clinics that do indeed carry out cutting edge treatment here in London, but they aren’t the best. The best are in Japan, Tokyo, to be precise, and Switzerland.”

  I give a humorless laugh. “Yes, and I expect they’re very cheap. They will be a lot more than you were going to pay me, and seeing as I have only twenty thousand of that now, I still need to start the online fundraising.”

  “Cassie, are you fucking stupid?”

  His question takes me back, with the viciousness with which it is posed.

  I blink at him, a rabbit in the headlights.

  “Don’t answer that question as you clearly are. Naïve maybe, at best. Absolutely lacking in any common sense at worse. You can’t do the fundraising. You can’t be active online at all.”

  Shit. Oh, shit. I’ve ruined things worse than I thought. Grandpa is going to die because of me. Those damn tears are back again, and I glance at Konstantin to see him watching me with an odd look on his face. It’s almost fear, like my upset scares him, which is stupid of me to even think.

  “Here’s the thing. I don’t reward failure. I’m not going to pay you a penny.”

  Oh, God. It gets worse every time he opens his mouth.

  “However, I don’t see why your grandfather should suffer because you fucked up. I’m going to pay for your grandfather to go to Switzerland for this treatment. I’ve already spoken with a doctor friend of mine, who can organize it all. It also works out for the best because you can’t see them for a while due to the mess you’ve made. This way, they’ll be out of the country, in a very secure private clinic. You can tell them you can’t go with them as you’re doing some high-level work, and as part of your new role you get the best private medical for you and your family that money can buy. While I sort out this shitstorm you’ve created with Popov, your grandparents will take a well-earned rest in Switzerland where your grandfather will get the best treatment available.”

  He narrows his eyes, and I try not to quake. “You will come with me until I decide what to do with you.”

  “Can I go to my flat and get some things?” I ask.

  “No. It’s not safe. You can write me a list of everything you need for a few weeks, and I will get my man to sort it out for you.”

  “I don’t have a choice, do I?” Since when did my voice become so small?

  “No, no choice.”

  I sigh and put the last few things into my bag.

  I try to tell myself it could be worse. Konstantin might be a very bad man, but he’s not a monster. A monster wouldn’t pay for my grandpa to get top treatment in a private Swiss clinic. In fact, Konstantin might be a lot more human than he tries to let people see. He’s dangerous and hard, but he’s not a monster. In fact, he’s my grandpa’s savior, and no matter what else, I’ll always be grateful for that. He’s rotten alright, but there’s a kindle of good in him, a tiny flame flickering away inside. If only that flame could burn bright and banish all the dark in him.

  “You got everything?” he asks.

  I nod, and he grabs my arm as he leads me out the door.

  Not wanting him dragging me after him like a dog, I yank my arm out of his hold. Konstantin shoots me an annoyed glance but doesn’t take hold of me again. He knows I’m not going to run. Where would I go? He has the medical care for my grandparents hanging over my head.

  We head to the basement where the vicious one, the one called Vasily I have learned, climbs into the front of a sleek, dark car, and Konstantin pushes me into the back, after taking my bags and shoving them in the trunk.

  He slides into the seat next to me, his size intimidating in this small space. He smells amazing. How can such a rotten soul smell so divine. Look so divine?

  He stares out the window, one hand rested casually on his thigh, the other, the elbow against the window and two long fingers tapping at his chin. He’s thinking, pondering something, but what? Not my fate, I hope.

  Will he kill me? Decide I’m simply too much trouble and do away with me?

  He paid for my grandpa’s treatment, though, didn’t he? If he wanted me dead, I doubt he’d do such a thing. He also punched Vasily in the face when he hurt me. I rub at my cheek absentmindedly where it scraped the carpet. It burns. I decide there and then that I hate Vasily. More even than I dislike Konstantin. He’s a disgusting man. Who manhandles a woman that way? He might not know his own strength, but I’m not buying that; he simply doesn’t care. Whereas Konstantin, he’s hardly nice, but I kicked his extortionate car and marked it, and he didn’t do anything. So out of the two of them? Yeah, Vasily is the one I hate.

  We arrive at the same house where I had the most disappointing sex of my life, which seems like a lifetime ago now. The door opens as we arrive, and a man dressed in a dark pair of trousers and a dark shirt opens the door. He looks to be in his late fifties to me but could be ten years older or younger easily.

  “Sir,” he says with a tip of his head to Konstantin. “Ah, and Mr. Vasily. Welcome.”

  “Derek,” Vasily says and claps the man on the back as he moves into the h
ouse.

  A face appears from the far end of the hallway. Michael.

  He stares at me, looks at Konstantin with his brows raised comically high.

  “Cassie is staying for a while. She has some work to do, and it’s safest she does it here,” Konstantin says.

  Michael shrugs. “No skin off my nose. The house is going to be a bit full, isn’t it?”

  “Good job it’s fucking massive then, isn’t it?” Konstantin snaps. “Anyway, you’ll be out of here in a couple of weeks, married.”

  “We need to take you out and get you … how do you say here? Messed up? Fucked up,” Vasily says with an evil grin. “We must get you fucked up.”

  “Not happening,” Konstantin snaps. “He’s already had a stag night.”

  “Oh, and you didn’t invite me,” Vasily says.

  “Yes, we didn’t think London could take it, Uncle V,” Michael says easily with a laugh.

  “Well, isn’t this cozy.”

  I glance up to see a woman I recognize from the gossip magazines left lying around at work sometimes. She’s a model, who dated a footballer and a reality TV star at one point. She must be Konstantin’s friend. Ugh. I hate her on sight. She’s false, her whole demeanor is fake and phony as hell, just like her eyelashes and probably her hair.

  Then my gaze travels down her body and stops dead at the very obviously pregnant belly.

  I turn to Konstantin and stare at him, but he’s avoiding my gaze.

  The woman descends the stairs as she smiles at Vasily. “Nice to see you again, Vasily.”

  “Wish I could say the same, Liza.” He shakes his head and pushes past her, heading for a door to the right.

  “Hey there, baby daddy,” she purrs at Konstantin and slinks her arm through his.

  He shrugs her off and moves away from her touch.

  Konstantin is having a baby.

  It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t hurt. He’s rotten, I remind myself. He’s saving Grandpa and that’s all that matters, nothing else. I’ll stay here, put up with seeing the man I once dreamed about, having a baby with this trashy fake woman, and I’ll grin and bear it for my grandpa. It’s as simple, and as complicated, as that.

  In all the things that have happened to me in the last twenty-four hours, this is the second worst; after not being able to be with Grandpa while he has his treatment. How the hell will I survive being holed up here with the terrifying Vasily and having to pay witness to Konstantin and this woman playing happy families? It’s more than my stupid little heart can bear.

  “Liza, meet Cassie,” Konstantin finally meets my gaze, and there’s nothing in his gorgeous eyes. No apology. No shame. Nothing.

  “Cassie, are you the new cleaner?” Liza smiles brightly at me.

  “Cut it out, Liza. She’s a very important employee, and you’ll give her zero shit while she’s here.” Then he turns to me. “Seeing as you’re the only two women here, you may as well try to get on with one another, spend some time together.”

  Oh, no way in hell. I’m only just about holding onto the vomit rising in my stomach at the idea that Konstantin is low enough to knock up this vile woman. I hate her already, and I’ve only spent a few minutes in her company.

  “Which room is Cassie in, darling?” Liza asks.

  “Call me darling one more time and you’ll be out on the street,” Konstantin snaps.

  Oh my God, he gets worse and worse.

  “Fine by me, so long as you pay for your mistake,” she says patting her belly. “In cash. In fact, I’d rather you did that. Let me go and when the baby is born, you get visitation rights, and we don’t have to be in one another’s hair.”

  He growls, grabs her wrists, and drags her past me into a room, kicking the door shut.

  Holy shit. He’s keeping the two of us here against our will. What is this? Kidnap central. It makes me feel a little better to know she doesn’t want to be here, and he clearly doesn’t like her, not anymore. That he ever did makes me wonder about him and his life choices.

  Vasily comes out of the room he was in, eating a chocolate bar and shakes his head. “Knew she was trouble from the start. Out of all of them, knew she’d be the one to cause him grief. She’s a wily snake, that girl.”

  “It seems my father has no ability to keep it in his pants.” Michael shakes his head in mock sorrow. “And yet, he’s always so judgmental of others.”

  Even his son knows Konstantin is a prize hypocrite! God, what a piece of shit. I hope Liza takes him for every penny and bleeds him dry; once Grandpa has had his treatment, of course.

  “Want to play Call of Duty?” Vasily asks, neatly sidestepping the issue of Konstantin’s morality, and Michael’s eyes light up.

  “Yeah, sounds like a plan. Let’s go to the den.”

  They walk off and leave me standing there. I’ve no idea where to go. I don’t know which room is what in this huge house.

  In this moment, I hate my life with more ferocity than I thought possible. Things seem horribly bleak. My future is in ruins. No job, once this debacle is over. No fiancé. No secret crush because Konstantin turned out to be shitty. It’s as bleak as one of those Russian novels I thought I wanted to live in.

  Nothing. I have nothing. Then, I tell myself to get a grip and get over my pity party. I have my grandpa, for a few more years at least. And that is thanks to the man I’m half hating on, half still unwillingly crushing on.

  The huge man, the blond one with the massive biceps, walks into the hallway, and I give a small scream at the gun he’s holding.

  The door to my left, the one Konstantin pushed that bitch into, opens. Konstantin comes out and eyes the situation.

  “What the fuck is wrong?” he growls at me.

  “He’s got a gun! It scared me.” I’m about two seconds away from snapping and losing my marbles completely.

  “Don’t be hysterical,” the big blond says in thick accented English. “It’s not as if I put it to your head. Now that would be scary, da?”

  “Come, I’ll show you to your room.” Konstantin takes my arm again in that proprietorial manner he has and half guides, half drags me up the stairs away from the unhinged blond.

  When we hit the landing, I once more pull my arm free. “Don’t touch me,” I hiss. Not in anger, but fear. I’m like a feral cat who is terrified of its new keepers.

  He grabs me again, harder this time, his fingers digging into my bicep. “You don’t make the rules anymore, jailbait. You fucked up, and this is your punishment. Not holiday camp.”

  “Oh, it’s going to be punishment, alright.”

  He stops and looks at me, a strange gleam in his stormy gaze. “Oh, baby, you don’t know what punishment is, or what I could do to you if I wanted.”

  With those ominous words, he carries on moving, and I shut up. It seems the wisest choice.

  We reach a door at the end of a corridor, which he opens into a sumptuous guest room. It’s a lot nicer than the one I stayed in with Michael’s friend, and that was amazing. How many guest rooms are there in this house?

  “You have a private bathroom in there,” he tells me, pointing to a door to our left. “There’s a view out across the countryside. You can open the windows, but they only open so far.” He demonstrates, opening the window a quarter of the way and then closing it again.

  “Is that so the damsels you keep kidnapping can’t let down their hair and escape?” I ask sarcastically, and immediately regret my words. I clamp my mouth shut and wait, but he doesn’t even react. Instead, he simply carries on talking in a bored voice.

  “The downstairs door is alarmed, as are the doors leading out to the patio and the outside pool area. In the day feel free to move around the house and the immediate grounds. As of this weekend there will be dogs roaming the grounds, guard dogs, so you won’t want to be wandering around too far from the house. They are trained, and you will be one of the people I’ll introduce them to, but you go too far, and if things do go wrong, well … I can’t get to
you easily. The fences are also electric, or they will be after I turn them on, so don’t touch them. The gate will be electrified too, and won’t open without the code, so don’t waste your time.”

  “This really is a prison, isn’t it?” I shake my head.

  “These things are more to keep Popov out than keep you in, darling, but see it as a prison if you wish. I really couldn’t care less.”

  “God, all those months ago, when you came into the coffee shop…” I walk right up to him. “I thought you were something else. Handsome, cultured even. Now, though….”

  “Now what?”

  We’re so close. Close enough to touch, to kiss, to punch. I want to do all those things. I don’t like this man. Hate him maybe, but I still want to kiss him. I must be losing my mind.

  “Now I think you’re an uncouth, cheap lowlife who is stupid enough to get a second-rate z-lister pregnant,” I spit the words at him, every single one a weapon, a bullet, meant to hurt.

  He grabs me, one big hand around my throat, and backs me up until I’m against the wall. His body is hard against mine, his hand tight enough to keep me in place, but not to hurt. I can breathe, but the threat is there, explicit.

  “Jailbait, watch yourself. This mouth of yours, this temper, it’s not an issue for me. I find it hot. Vasily, though? You’ve already pissed him off enough he had to give you a bit of carpet burn. I suggest you don’t do the same with Denis; he’d probably break some bones.”

  I’m breathing heavily as he holds me in place, but he’s not done yet. “You’re right, though, I am stupid because the last thing I want is anything to do with Liza, but she’s pregnant, with my child, and I can’t and won’t turn my back on my unborn child. So you better not cause me grief while you’re here. I’ve got enough on my plate, and I don’t fucking need it.”

  I’m panting, this position is weirdly sexy. Who gets turned on by being held up against a wall? I need therapy. Not a bit of counseling either. I probably need that deep shit, what’s it called? Psychoanalysis?

  He strokes his thumb along my jaw. “Ah, Cassie. If only…”