One Night in Russia: A Secret Baby Mafia Romance

by Bella King

  Bella King

  One Night in Russia

  A Secret Baby Mafia Romance

  Published by After Midnight 2020

  Copyright © 2020 by Bella King

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  More Mafia Books by Bella King

  Introduction

  Elaine

  I did something bad.

  I hooked up with a man I don’t know, and now there’s something I’m hiding from him.

  It was only supposed to be one night, but now, we’re bound together by my secret.

  He’s a Russian playboy, a thug, and probably a criminal.

  But now I’m pregnant, and the baby is his.

  Nikolai

  War comes before peace.

  But how much war can one man take before his soul leaves his body and his heart turns to steel?

  How many more must perish in the name of the bratva?

  Then there’s Elaine.

  Perfect, like a goddess,

  She’s my favorite distraction.

  But distractions aren’t supposed to stick around this long.

  She’s going to get herself into trouble.

  Or worse, she’ll end up dead.

  Preface

  At the time of publication:

  1 US Dollar equates to roughly 70 Russian Rubles.

  1000 rubles is about 14 dollars.

  The median monthly income in Russia is 50,000 rubles or a bit over 700 dollars.

  Other Useful Information:

  Bratva is the Russian word for Mafia, but you probably already know that.

  Phenolide-11 is fictional.

  Hearts can always heal, no matter what.

  Chapter One

  Elaine

  That is a mistake, but damn if it doesn’t feel good.

  Thirteen days after my ex-boyfriend unceremoniously broke up with me after three years of so-so romance and forgotten anniversaries, and I’ve just hooked up with a bad boy. What am I doing with my life?

  “You’re leaving?” I ask as he rises from the bed, his impressive muscles glistening with a light layer of sweat from the intense sex we just had.

  “Yep,” he replies, grabbing his thin cotton t-shirt that had been slung over the chair when the action first started.

  I can hardly believe it. The man of my dreams is about to walk out the door of my hotel room without so much as kissing me goodbye. I knew this would probably just be a one-night stand for him, but I expected him to at least stay the night.

  I get no such pleasure from him. After he finished filling me up with his baby batter, unprotected, I might add, he’s now hightailing it out of my place like he has somewhere else to be tonight. I hope it’s not another woman’s bed.

  “You don’t want to stay for dinner?” I ask, clutching the white hotel sheets to my breasts as I sit up as though he hadn’t just seen them bouncing in front of his face moments before.

  “I already ate,” he answers, putting his shirt on and reaching for his pants.

  “Yeah, but it’s cold outside,” I say, grasping at straws for some reason he should stay.

  “It’s always cold in Russia,” he replies, stepping into his slim-fitted trousers.

  That’s true. I hadn’t expected it to be as harsh as it has been, however. Russian winters make Tennessee ones look like summer. I had to buy a coat that weighs more than I do to keep the cold from turning my bones into icicles.

  “Wouldn’t you feel better if you stayed for the night?” I ask, springing up from the bed and taking the sheet with me.

  He turns around, looking me up and down as he zips his fly. “It’s been fun, darling. But I must go.”

  I realize how clingy I sound, but letting the perfect specimen slip through my fingers like this wasn’t my plan when he started hitting on me at the bar. His light-green eyes, sunken cheeks, and thousand-yard stare managed to melt me even in this frigid cold. You don’t find men like this where I’m from.

  “I don’t even know your name,” I say, letting the blanket slip and fall to the ground at my feet.

  It’s a desperate cry for attention, but at this point, I’m not at my highest point. My life has been falling apart since my breakup, but I’ll be damned if I ever get back with that cheating asshole again.

  Anyone is better than my ex. I didn’t even get the satisfaction of breaking up with him. That’s the worst part. He’s the one who broke up with me after fucking some stupid slut that I used to work with.

  Disgusting.

  I’m starting to wonder if I’m any better, spreading my legs for this handsome Russian playboy, but one look into his soulless eyes, and I fell for him. There’s something about assholes that really get me going. I don’t know if it’s the confidence, or what. All I know is that I’m a sucker for them, but I wish the man walking out my door wasn’t one.

  “My name is Nikolai Volkov, and you want nothing to do with me,” he says, not even bothering to look over his shoulder as he walks out of my hotel room, leaving me naked and alone.

  “Fuck,” I curse under my breath, going to the door after a moment and closing it harder than I need to. “It’s always the good ones that go.”

  True.

  My ex stuck around for a long time, probably running through the whole neighborhood before he finally ended things with me. I saw the signs, the lack of passion, the lies, but I ignored them. I thought that I could wish them away, but it all caught up to me in the end.

  And now, I’m alone.

  It’s getting late, but it’s not too late, and I still haven’t eaten dinner. Most of the restaurants around here should still be open.

  I trudge to my suitcase on the floor beside my bed and kick it open. Even though I’ve been in Russia for a full week already, I never fully unpacked into my hotel room. Now, I won’t even bother. I’m leaving in a few days.

  I’ll have a few souvenirs to take back home, along with a heavy coat that I’ll probably never find a use for in Tennessee. I won’t miss the cold, but I don’t know if I’m ready to return home just yet. There’s really nothing left for me there.

  All things considered, I’m lucky to have had the opportunity to get away in the first place. My work is flexible as a writer, and I’ve been on a long break since finishing up my last novel. It’
s not easy work, but it beats the hell out of what I was doing before.

  It’s almost time to get back to the US and begin working on the next book. My publisher gives me plenty of time, but I like to push the deadline and scramble to finish in the last few days. It gives the editor more wrinkles to iron out, but my books always come through well just the same.

  This time, I’m trying to get my life together. My work is the only thing that hasn’t crumbled before my eyes in light of the breakup. I’ve been weak in other areas of my life, letting the dishes pile up and leaving my friends’ messages on read, but I’ll drag my ass through broken glass before I ruin my career over some idiot that doesn’t value me.

  I’ve been taking a lot of risks, though. Letting Nikolai finish inside me wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve done, but it’s also not the dumbest. Dating my ex was the dumbest, but thank god we never had a baby together. As much as I wanted one, deep down inside, I knew that my ex was the wrong choice, so I held off.

  I wonder what my life would have been like if I did have one. Would he have stayed, or would I be a single mother right now, still at home, working on my next book instead of frolicking through Russia with no direction in the dead of winter?

  I assume the latter.

  My suitcase doesn’t hold much in the way of nice clothes anymore since I’m running low after getting a batch dry cleaned a few days after I arrived. I should do that again before I leave, but for now, I’ll just have to settle for black sweatpants and a thick hoodie to wear under my long Russian coat. Being warm is more important to me right now than dazzling another Russian bad boy.

  I do wish that Nikolai would have stayed. I know that it would probably never have amounted to anything, but I’ve been lonely. Even with the heat turned all the way up, the cold still seeps through the old hotel windows like syrup, pooling on the rough carpet and rising up to slip beneath my covers while I sleep.

  Whoever will be keeping me warm at night in the future, I can be sure that it won’t be Nikolai. I’ll never forget him, though. Those eyes spoke volumes when he first thrust inside of me.

  I step into my pants and pull them up, tightening the drawstring around my waist. My stomach rumbles as I reach for my hoodie, eager to fill up on steaming Russian borscht soup and a hearty plate of meat and vegetables.

  In the silence of the late evening, I hear a crack from outside, followed by a few more in quick succession. At first, I assume its fireworks being set off in the street by some teenagers, but without the signature crackle after the pop, I start to think that it could be something more sinister.

  Chapter Two

  Elaine

  I rush to the window, peering into the dark street outside the hotel. I have a view of the street out front, but it’s difficult to see because it’s not very well lit. The only source of light is the gentle glow of the sign outside of the hotel and a single streetlamp that illuminates a small patch of the dirty road directly in front of the building.

  I don’t see any movement outside. There are a few flakes of snow drifting down in front of the lamp, but nothing else. Whatever the sound was, it could have been coming from a different area. I just want to make sure that Nikolai gets out alright, and that it’s safe to go out to get some food.

  My fingernails dig into the soft wooden window frame as another crack of gunfire rings out into the night. It’s unmistakable, and it’s definitely coming from somewhere nearby.

  I don’t want to become a target, but I’m also curious, and I’ve been terribly reckless lately. I unlatch the lock on the window and yank it up, letting the crisp air flood into my room. I poke my head out into the darkness to get a view of the entrance to the hotel, and I gasp.

  Nikolai is out there, crouched behind a black G-Wagon as though to shield himself from a shooter. His broad shoulders are leaned against the thick metal near the front of the car, and in the darkness, I can just make out an object in his hand.

  Is he holding a gun?

  My heart skips a beat as yet another gunshot rings out in the night. I hear the brick on the side of the building spray a thin dusting of rubble as a bullet hits it. Nikolai curses, jumping up to his feet and leaning over the G-Wagon.

  A flash from the end of Nikolai’s gun lights up his face for a brief moment as he fires it across the street at an unknown assailant. He is carrying a gun, and he’s shooting back at whoever has been taking shots at him.

  Nikolai is in trouble.

  My mind races, trying to figure out what I should do. I’m unsure as to why someone would attack him tonight. Is it an attempted mugging, or does Nikolai know the attacker? I probably shouldn’t get directly involved because there isn’t much I could do without a weapon, but I feel compelled to help him.

  I watch as Nikolai crouches down again, shielding his large body from another slew of bullets that ping off the black metal of the car and the brick of the hotel building. Someone has probably already called the police, but just to be sure, I better make the call.

  I turn around, searching the room for a telephone. Most hotel rooms have one, but this one doesn’t. I remember seeing one in the lobby when I first checked in, but my room, like all the others, is missing one. This isn’t exactly a five-star hotel.

  I should have gotten a sim card for my phone while I was here, but I chose to go without one. It’s not like I need to call anyone. I have a laptop and coffeeshop Wi-Fi to check my email, but for the most part, I was seeking isolation when I came to Russia.

  I have friends in France, a cover designer in England, and a cousin married to some guy in Peru. I didn’t know a single person in Russia, and that made it the perfect location to get some time to myself.

  But, instead of getting time to myself, I hooked up with a stranger, and now he’s in trouble.

  Great thinking, Elaine. This is going to fix your life right on up.

  Probably not, but I have to help Nikolai before he gets hurt. I take a deep breath, and walk briskly to the door, leaving the window open as I slip out into the hallway and head toward the elevator.

  My steps are almost as fast as my heartbeat as I walk. The muffled thumps of my feet on the cheap carpet are drowned out by the blood pumping in my ears. I’m scared, but I’m doing the right thing. I’ve been brave before, and now it’s time to do it again.

  I mash the tarnished silver button to the elevator several times and wait for it to roll up on its creaky cables. I hate riding this old thing up and down, but it’s faster than running down eight flights of stairs. I’m ashamed to admit the amount of risk I would take if it saved me from having to go down all those stairs.

  The elevator arrives with a weak ding, and the doors roll open to welcome me inside. I step in, the small cabin sinking down and wobbling with frightening vigor as I steady myself inside. I press the button for the ground floor and say a prayer as the doors slide shut, locking me in.

  If I die, I’m coming back to life and strangling Nikolai for making me catch feelings for him enough to risk my ass getting shot. He might not appreciate me as much as I would like him to, but he can’t say I never did anything for him after this.

  He might already be gone, considering how long it’s taken me to get down to the lobby. I doubt that he’s still crouched behind a car if someone is trying to kill him. Escaping to somewhere safer would have been a good move.

  I watch the flickering bulbs blink behind each number as I approach the ground floor. I brace myself as the elevator shudders to a stop, and the doors slide open again, freeing me from this deathtrap.

  “Move,” Nikolai yells, shoving me aside as he runs into the elevator.

  Chapter Three

  Elaine

  Nikolai frantically runs his hand over the elevator buttons, pressing as many as he can until the door closes.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I ask, pinning myself again the side of the elevator in case someone fires a gun through the doors as they slide shut.

  “I should ask you the same thing,” N
ikolai replies, spinning around to me and gazing through me with his light-green eyes.

  “I was coming down to call the police from the lobby. I saw what was going on outside my window,” I reply.

  He smirks. “You’re cute, but I hardly need the cops on my ass, too.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” he says, jamming a finger into the close button as the doors open on the second floor, “I don’t think the cops would be very useful right now. Or ever, as a matter of fact.”

  “But someone was shooting at you, right?” I ask.

  “Apparently so,” he says, shrugging his wide shoulders. “It happens.”

  “Is that something that happens often?” I ask in disbelief.

  “You ask too many questions,” he replies, shaking his head.

  I plant my hands on my hips. “I’m just trying to figure out why the hell someone would be shooting at you.”

  “I need more ammo. I don’t suppose you have any to spare,” he says, ignoring my question and brandishing a large black gun.

  I shake my head. “I don’t use guns.”

  “I figured,” he replies, dropping the gun back into his waistband. “But I’m not going to make it very far without one. I’m sure the building is surrounded by now.”

  “By the police?”

  “By the bratva, darling. The motherfucking Russian mafia,” he says with a devilish grin.

  My heart sinks. “You’re in some serious trouble then, I assume. What do they want with you?”

  “Probably to kill me,” he replies.

  “But why? You had to have done something pretty awful for them to want to kill you.”

  Nikolai lets out a laugh. “They don’t need any other reason but my name. I’m bratva too, just not the kind that they like.”

  “You’re in the mafia?” I ask, my mouth dropping open. It’s almost too fantastic to believe. I almost think Nikolai is weaving a false story just to fuck with my head. “You’re kidding me, right?”