Her Russian Millionaire
He may just be the man she needs...
A sexy Russian millionaire romance by Scarlett Mallam of BWWM Club. Features another free bonus book.
Jalisa and Nikita are fresh in LA, on the run from child services who want to split them up after the death of their father.
Homeless at 18 and 14, they are glad to meet Marie, a kind lady who offers to help them get jobs in the bar she works at.
With manager Stone giving them lodgings and work at the bar, things seem to be going well.
Until they overhear a conversation that turns their world upside down that is; neither Marie nor Stone have good intentions for the girls!
But Erik, another owner of the bar and a member of the Russian mafia, decides to keep the sisters safe.
Jalisa is grateful, but she never expected herself to fall for such a man.
But soon they’re deeply in love and making plans to escape - her and her sister from Stone and Marie, and Erik from the mafia.
Will their risky plans bring them freedom and the opportunity to start a new life together?
Or will events take a deadly turn?
Find out in this action-packed yet sexy romance by Scarlett Mallam of BWWM Club.
Suitable for over 18s only due to sex scenes so hot, you’ll be dreaming of your own Russian hunk to come rescue you.
Tip: Search BWWM Club on Amazon to see more of our great books.
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Bonus Book - The Billionaire's Dark Past
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
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Chapter 1
When the great lumbering beast of a bus hissed to a halt, the population of Los Angeles, the City of Angels, grew by two. Jalisa and Nikita Jones entered the city like so many others did: little money, no work, and no place to go. A hope for a better life rested upon their prayer-pressed hands and bowed heads. They knew God would provide for them, but it was hard not to feel afraid. The two walked the streets, looking for any help they could find.
Squat little gray buildings sat on either side of the road, beaconing in customers with illuminated signs. Alleyways stretched into a darkness that made Jalisa walk faster as if a monster would emerge and grab them. The stench of alcohol and vomit hung in the air. Homeless men slumped over and mumbling to themselves wandered too close for comfort. The sound of their feet on the concrete seemed to go on for miles.
“Spare anything?” A shriveled up pale hand reached a can out toward Nikita. Jalisa clutched her little sister closer to her. The elderly man wasn’t a threat to them, but the action was instinctual.
“I would give it to you if I had it,” Jalisa answered honestly. It was her personal belief that people were put on this earth to spread love through the name of Christ, and part of that was helping the needy. However, the sisters were in a desperate situation, and they could not spare anything.
“All right.” He retracted his hand. His eyes showed that he faced rejection hundreds of times a day.
“I will pray for you,” Nikita spoke up, her sweet voice creating a little melody in the air.
“Pray for us all,” the man grunted, turning away.
Jalisa pulled on her sister’s hand, and the two girls shared a moment. Nikita smiled at her sister, dimples shining on her face, but her wide, dark eyes held a touch of fear the Jalisa could not ignore. Jalisa reached out with her free hand and pinched at her sister’s cheek. It was a familiar gesture, one their late father used to do all the time. Nikita visibly relaxed, and the two girls continued down the street.
The chill of fall bit through their thin clothing and into their bones. The only warmth they felt was from their intertwined hands. Jalisa squeezed her younger sister tightly, feeling every tremble of the smaller girl’s shoulders. She did not let go for a second. There was no earthly force that could separate them.
The death of their father had only strengthened Jalisa’s will to keep her sister by her side. Their mother had been out of the picture for a decade when their father was diagnosed with aggressive, late-stage stomach cancer. The doctors tried everything to save him, but ultimately, it was deemed fatal. Seeing him take his final breath was a shock that made Jalisa prioritize family and faith over everything.
Her father was a good man, active and well-respected in the community and in the church. He was often found with a smile on his face, cracking jokes and lighting up the room. There wasn’t a person on this earth who he couldn’t be friends with. Jalisa knew that it was his loving demeanor and his devotion to the Lord that helped her learn to be a strong, godly woman and a loving person.
Jalisa could still remember the way his eyes stared aimlessly at the ceiling as his body began to fail him. His skin slowly turned from a soft brown to a sickly blue. The color combined with the stiffness of his body made it seem for all the world like he had been dipped in wax. The scent of hospital cleaners. The steady beeping of machines. Soft sobs coming from both her and her sister. Murmured prayers.
The feeling of a soul passing through the gates of Heaven was an incredible one. It forced the air right out of the room and left both the girls and the nurses surrounding him speechless. Jalisa had felt a rush of relief upon knowing that God had her father in his arms. She had wanted more time with her father, but nothing in the world was worth more than knowing he was in a better place.
After his passing, the girls went to the house which no longer felt like a home. It was an empty shell of what it once was without his presence. Jalisa ran her fingers over everything that was his. His books on the shelf. His laundry in the basket. His image in the family photos hanging on the wall. It was as if he could walk in at any moment, smiling and laughing about something funny one of his Meals on Wheels recipients said.
The two girls had prayed over the phone before Jalisa began to make calls. Her grandmother was far too old to care for herself, let alone two girls. Her aunt was a mess, parading men in and out of her home. Her uncle had married a woman in England, and they lived there now. Members of the church were sad to hear about his passing and offered casseroles and a shoulder to cry on.
They didn’t need casseroles; they needed somewhere to go. The bank wouldn’t let them live in their house rent-free, and Jalisa had just finished high school. She had no job, and even if she did get one, they would pay her minimum wage. There was no way she would be able to kee
p her and sister afloat. Housing, food, clothing, water, electric, phone...That was not even counting Nikita’s school supplies and their father’s medical bills, which would be shoved down their throats before he was even in the ground.
The two girls had fished out the number for the child services worker who told them to call her when their father died. She gave them a generic sentiment of sympathy and said she would drop by between five and seven to “figure this all out.” Jalisa had turned and assured Nikita that child services would help them, that they would be okay.
She felt like a fool now when she remembered it. The government was cruel and did not care about two black girls in the middle of Ohio. They were two numbers on a list. The case of Jones, Jalisa and Jones, Nikita. One fourteen and one eighteen. Dead father. No mother. Split them up and move on to the next case.
“Your mother can’t be found,” the woman had said, her thin mouth pressing into a tight line. “You have no other relatives that are suitable.”
“What’s she saying?” Nikita had turned to her sister with a look nothing short of horror.
“You’ll go into foster care. You might have a tough time of it, but I’m sure a family will take you in soon.” The woman had shown Nikita a smile so fake Jalisa had to look away.
“I have a family,” Nikita pleaded. “I have Jalisa.”
“She will be going to Standson halfway house. When you-”
“That’s on the other side of Ohio!” Nikita had not even let the woman finish. The woman took a deep breath and nodded her head.
“When Nikita gets out of the halfway house, she is free to apply for your adoption.”
Jalisa believed that lying was okay only for survival. She had agreed with the woman and listened to her drone on and on about how Jalisa would go about adopting her sister once she was out of the halfway house, all the while planning on taking Nikita and running. The next Sunday, the donation plate went around in honor of their father. The money would go to Jalisa and Nikita to help pay for his medical bills.
They took it and ran, asking God for forgiveness for not using the money for the intended purpose. Jalisa paid for a one-way bus ticket for two to the farthest away city they could find: Los Angeles, California. The Department of Child Services would not follow them there. The sisters would have a new life with nothing to tear them apart.
The two packed as light as they could: a few cans of food, toothbrush, blanket, Nikita’s stuffed animal, Jalisa’s diary, the rest of their cash, and their father’s Bible. Around their necks, they wore the lockets their father had bought them for their baptism. They were hung on dainty golden chains with their initials in rhinestones on the front plate. Before they left, the two cut out a picture of their father and pressed it inside the locket. If worse came to worse, Jalisa would sell hers for food.
“Hey.” Nikita pulled on her sister, bringing Jalisa back to the sidewalk. “You almost walked past that one.”
Jalisa looked over at the store Nikita was pointing to. It was a gas station with two broken pumps and four working ones. Men dressed in ratty shirts lingered around the corner, smoke drifting from their lips. Jalisa didn’t need to be close to know it probably wasn’t cigarette smoke.
“I don’t know,” she said warily. “Maybe one of the places that I put in an application at will hire me.
“I doubt it.” Nikita frowned. “You have no references. Even if you did, you couldn’t give them out because the department might figure out where we are.”
“You never know.” Jalisa had spent most of the day filling out stacks of repetitive questions at every fast food restaurant, grocery store, and retail store they passed. Nikita pursed her lips, and Jalisa relented. They walked into the gas station, giving the men at the corner a wide space.
“Are you hiring?” Jalisa asked the man behind the Quick-Stop gas station counter. He shook his head no. “Please? I’ll do anything. I’ll work late nights or early mornings.”
“No,” the man said slowly. Jalisa turned away to see Nikita staring heavily at the food on display.
“Do you know of anywhere that is hiring?” Jalisa asked.
“No. Now, are you gonna pick something out or not?” The man’s angry voice made Jalisa shrink back into her skin. She quickly pulled Nikita out of the store before the devil tempted her into stealing any food.
Holding back her tears, she went into the motel next to the Quick-Stop. The front desk receptionist was friendly until Jalisa asked her for an application. The woman practically threw it at her before huffing off to get the manager. Her looked over Jalisa with a gaze that made her wish she had on something thicker than a red plaid shirt and jeans.
“Well, well…I can make an opening for you.” He leered at Jalisa’s curvy figure and ample bosom.
“Not interested. Have a nice day.” She crossed her arms over her chest as soon they stepped outside.
“Why did you say no? He had a job for you!” Nikita turned on her sister, unwise in the ways of ungodly men.
“He wasn’t asking me to be a maid.” She swallowed hard. “I’ll leave it at that. I’ll tell you more about it when you’re older.”
“Look…I really hate to say it, but let’s just make a sign.” Nikita propped her hand upon her hip.
Jalisa’s pack hung on her like a sorrow. She was nervous. With each rejection, the pressure to have a success grew greater. It was becoming darker outside. The sky purpled, and the sun hung lazily in the clouds. As the oldest, she must provide for her sister.
“Okay,” Jalisa whispered, her shoulder’s sagging. She didn’t want to beg, but that was probably their best option.
The two picked a piece of the street and sat down. Jalisa wrote on a page of her diary ‘Homeless. Anything helps.’ Nikita held out a cup the two had plucked from the trash. People walked by them completely unfazed by the tragedy of the two homeless girls on the sidewalk.
After about an hour, Nikita started sobbing. The only money the two had made was a nickel given by a passing homeless man with the same sign. The three prayed together for prosperity, and he went on his way. Nikita grabbed the coin out of the cup and held it between her fingers.
“It’s getting cold,” Nikita whispered, her chin quivering. The unspoken question hung in the cold air between them: Where are we going to go?
“We can’t go to the motel we were just in.” Jalisa knew it probably had the lowest rates in town, but it was out of the question. “We’ll find another one.”
“We can’t.” Nikita curled up next to her sister. “Motels require money.”
“We have some money left over from the bus ticket, yeah? We’ll use that.” Jalisa put her diary away, and they set out in search of a cheap motel.
Fat tears ran down Nikita’s cheeks in a near constant stream. The grief of their father plus the insecurity and fear of their situation was not something that a fourteen-year-old should have to deal with. Jalisa had to look away, the feeling of failure becoming too much. Just as she was starting to wonder if the two should just hitch a ride back to Ohio, where at least Nikita would be warm and fed, when they found a motel with low rates.
It was not a chain motel, but a family-owned local motel. The building was falling apart. Letters falling off of the sign made the name unreadable. Graffiti decorated the red brick sides. Four cars were in the parking lot, one with the engine still running and the headlights on. A shiver worked its way up Jalisa's spine. Over the years, she had learned that that was the Lord warning her of danger.
“I know it’s not…nice,” Nikita said, “but it’s fifty a night.”
“We’ll…think about it.” Jalisa tried to smile at her sister. She was desperate enough for Nikita to have a bed to sleep in that she would figure out how to make it safe, even if that meant staying up all night to watch over her.
“I’ll count the money,” Nikita said excitedly. “Let’s sit on the bench.”
The metal bench was even colder than the fall air. Ja
lisa couldn’t imagine what it would be like once night came. The temperature would plummet, and the more unsavory people would come out to play. God only knows what would happen to the girls if one of them found the two huddled in an alley.
Nikita rifled through the bag and pulled out a wad of ones and coins. Jalisa didn’t have to count it to know it wasn’t enough for a room. She bowed her head deeply in prayer and began to speak to God.
God, I really need your help. I’m in this situation that I know I can’t handle. I figured there would be hardships once we got to Los Angeles, Lord, but this is too much for me. I am but your humble servant, and there are many ungodly people here. The devil has pulled these people away from your light, and because of that, I cannot trust them. The devil may put it in their head to hurt another person.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Jalisa ended her prayer by reciting a verse.
“24.75.” Nikita shook her head, the money slipping from her fingers and back into her pack. Jalisa lifted her head and looked over at Nikita. She started to say something before another voice interrupted.
“I like your backpack.” A woman stood in front of them, gesturing to Nikita’s pack. It was pastel pink with patches of baseballs ironed on. “Do you play baseball?”
“I play softball.” Nikita turned her tear-stained face to the woman. “The craft store didn’t have any softballs.”
“Oh.” She paused. “Are you okay?
Jalisa and Nikita looked at each other, unsure of what to say. ‘No’ didn’t actually cover it. Jalisa turned to the woman, taking in her appearance. She was older, about forty, white, blonde, and slim. She wore too much blush, and her eyebrows were arched too high, but her eyes were kind.
“As of today, we’re homeless,” Jalisa admitted. “Our father died a couple days ago, and we’re out on our own.”
“My goodness.” She shook her head. “Look at how little you have with you. Poor babies. Would you like some food?”
Her Russian Millionaire (BWWM Romance Book 1) Page 1