Russian Mobster's Arranged Wife

by Rose, Bella

  Yakov and Liam had been arguing. That much was obvious. The pub was deserted. The dim lighting provided an atmosphere of secrecy that only emphasized the reason they were all there.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Yakov demanded.

  Ivan didn’t remind the man that he owed Ivan respect along with the oath of loyalty that had been renewed less than six months ago. Instead, Ivan cast a glance at Kaylee. She gave a barely perceptible nod of her chin.

  Ivan offered Yakov a pleasant smile. “Do you recognize this woman, Yakov?”

  “No.” Yakov’s bushy dark brows bounced up and down. “Why? Should I?”

  “My name is Kaylee Mulnix,” Kaylee told him firmly. “You knew my mother Dorrie quite well back in the day.”

  “Dorrie,” Yakov said, his face paling several shades beneath his beard. “I heard she was dead.”

  “From who?” Kaylee gestured to Liam. “From him? Because his idiot grandson has been threatening my mother as a way to get to me.”

  Yakov turned to Liam, a look of disgust on his face. “You condone this?”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Liam drawled. “They’re trying to put us at each other’s throats.”

  “Notice we are all here alone this evening,” Ivan reminded them. “There will be no rescuing from that quarter. We’re going to finish this tonight, one way or another.”

  “Finish what?” Liam looked annoyed. “You’re the one throwing all these accusations around, Krachenko.”

  “Because you’ve been conspiring with my own men behind my back,” Ivan said, his temper dangerously close to the boiling point.

  Yakov looked uncomfortable. “Perhaps conspiring is too strong a word, da?”

  “No,” Kaylee argued. “It’s the perfect word. This guy has been harassing me and my ma. You never claimed me and I’m not asking you for anything. But I am going to ask that you back me up when there’s just as much in it for you as there is for me.”

  “Like what?” Yakov asked.

  It disgusted Ivan that Yakov would have to be bribed when the man should want to help his own child. Yet Kaylee seemed completely unbothered. He trusted her to know what was best for herself.

  Kaylee pointed to Liam. “Even the Boston PD is onto him. Pershing was using illegal methods. They’re investigating him as we speak. Once they find the trail that leads back to Shaunessy hands, it’s going to be a whole lot tougher for Liam to get out of this one squeaky clean.”

  Yakov looked at Liam. The Irishman was finally starting to look uncomfortable. He stood up. “I don’t have to take this from you Communist bastards.”

  “Yeah.” Kaylees tone dripped disgust. “Why does that always seem to be the default insult when someone finds themselves on the wrong side of a Russian?”

  Liam gave her a scathing look. “Don’t think this is over, little girl.”

  “Oh I don’t,” Kaylee assured him.

  Ivan had to admire her brass if nothing else. She had her hands on her hips and was glaring at Shaunessy as though she intended him to go up in flames. Finally Liam turned on his heel and stalked out of the pub, leaving Kaylee and Ivan with Yakov.

  “You swore loyalty to me,” Ivan reminded Yakov. “Why would you go back on your word?”

  “Money?” the older man said with a chuckle. “Power? There are a dozen reasons.”

  “I suppose that’s fair enough,” Ivan allowed. He glanced around the pub, seeing so much potential and wondering why Yakov didn’t view their association in much the same light.

  Then Kaylee walked over to the bar and grabbed a fifth of top shelf vodka. “You’re not going to challenge us, again, Yakov.”

  The older man snorted. “I’m not?”

  “No, because right now your daughter is sitting beside the man who runs Boston for the Russians.” Kaylee poured him a shot and slammed it down on the bar. “And surely you realize that’s worth more than some idiotic scheme to ship Ivan back to Russia.”

  Ivan’s heart swelled at the sight of his woman—his wife—fighting for his position. He moved closer to her, wanting to show their single-minded determination to hold their position.

  Yakov accepted the shot, tossing it back. “I suppose you could be right, if my percentages went up because of this association.”

  “Two points,” Kaylee agreed. “No more.”

  Ivan almost opened his mouth to protest, but realized he’d have probably offered five. Kaylee was no slouch when it came to negotiating. That was becoming obvious.

  Yakov scratched is beard and gestured that she should pour him another shot. “I was thinking our father-daughter bond should be worth more like five percent.”

  Kaylee set the bottle down and put her hands flat on the bar. “I was thinking it was our father-daughter bond that was keeping you alive and pretty much nothing more.”

  Ivan held his breath. The old man wasn’t known for his magnanimous behavior when it came to threats, yet there was actually a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His beard was even twitching.

  Just when Ivan was ready to reach for his own gun, Yakov started laughing. It started small. Then the chuckle turned into a belly laugh that rolled across the pub and echoed off the old brick walls. Yakov slapped his hand on the bar. “Your mother was a mouse, but you”—he picked up his shot glass and tipped it to Kaylee before throwing back the contents—“are a chip off the old block!”

  Ivan exhaled, feeling an immense amount of relief. All things considered, this situation was actually settling into a fairly advantageous one. Liam Shaunessy wasn’t happy, but the shark was out to sea and out of options for the moment. And now Kaylee had neatly boxed Yakov Rossovich into a corner.

  “Nice,” Kaylee said flippantly. “So are you admitting you’re my sperm donor?”

  The old Russian gave her a long once over. He tugged the gray hairs on his chin. Whatever he was about to say was apparently costing him great thought. Finally he sighed. “Your mother wasn’t known for being unfaithful. In fact I would say it was quite the opposite.”

  “Yeah?”

  Ivan had to quell the urge to go to Kaylee. He clenched his hands into tight fists at his sides. He could sense she needed comfort, but this was not the time.

  Yakov nodded. “I would believe that you are my child.”

  Kaylee gave Yakov one hard nod. “Then I suppose you’d better stay on Ivan’s good side so the two of us can get to know each other eventually.”

  Yakov stepped back from the bar and pulled on his coat. “Da.” And with that one word, he turned and left.

  Ivan waited until the pub was completely quiet. Then he held out his arms. Kaylee stepped out from behind the bar and came willingly into his embrace. He held her close, letting her shake and tremble as the adrenaline and excitement drained away.

  She lifted her chin, gazing up into his face. “I can’t believe we pulled all of this off.”

  “I can,” Ivan told her. “You are an amazing woman, Kaylee Krachenko. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  “Somehow knowing you have my back makes me willing to be brave, Ivan.” She gently caressed his cheek. The gesture touched him deeply. “I think we’re just better as a team.”

  “I think I like that idea,” Ivan agreed. Then he gestured to the pub. “And what better way to christen your new pub?”

  “Meaning I was right and you’re planning to do all your shady deals in my pub.” Her teasing tone softened her words.

  Ivan bracketed her waist with his hands and picked her up. He set her on the bar and stepped between her knees. She immediately rested her hands on his shoulders. Ivan found he liked being this close to her. Her familiar scent surrounded him and the only thing he could think about was kissing her senseless and then finding the nearest horizontal surface.

  “Ivan?” She gazed down at him. “I love you. And I want you to know that I trust you. I do.”

  “I know you do.” Ivan thought about the twisted path that had brought them to this point. “I love
you, Kaylee. And despite everything, I trust you. I want you to be my partner in everything.”

  “Queen of the Russian mafia?” she teased.

  “Absolutely,” he agreed. “And queen of my heart as well.”

  Kaylee wrinkled her nose. “That was a little cheesy.”

  Ivan grinned. Kaylee was a woman who would keep him on his toes, both in and out of the bedroom. It was more than he’d ever thought he would find. What more could a Russian mafia king want from life?

  THE END

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  Chapter One

  The smoky air of Club 599 made Maggie’s eyes sting. She reached for Courtney’s arm, trying not to get lost in the shuffle of club goers. The dance floor was packed wall to wall with writhing, spinning bodies. It was a sea of humanity and Maggie felt like a salmon swimming upstream with no clue why she was doing it.

  “I can’t believe you talked me into this!” Maggie had to yell in Courtney’s ear in order to be heard over the pounding music.

  Courtney’s laugh sounded almost maniacal. “You know you love it! Besides, you never go out. It’s time to get you laid.”

  “Yeah, I don’t know about that.” In fact, Maggie was absolutely sure Courtney’s idea was a bad one. “I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl.”

  “Everyone needs to try it once.” Courtney dragged Maggie toward the bar. “Let’s get a drink and scope out the guys.”

  Courtney bellied up to the long bar that stretched the length of the club. The chrome and glass monstrosity boasted colored lights that painted both the bartenders and patrons in an eerie glow. Maggie sighed. No matter what she ordered to drink, it was going to look like witches brew.

  “We’ll take two Cosmopolitans,” Courtney yelled to the bartender.

  The man waved his hand to let her know that he had heard her order. Maggie looked him over. The blond haired, blue-eyed Adonis could have played a bartender in a movie. Maggie leaned over, staring down the length of the bar and noticing that every last one of the bartenders looked exactly like this one. Obviously Club 599 had a type.

  “So,” Courtney said, jabbing Maggie in the arm. “Anything catch your eye?”

  “Other than your complete and total lack of regard for anything I say?” Maggie said grouchily. “Not really.”

  “Ooo! What about that one?” Courtney pointed to a man, maybe late twenties, who casually leaned back against the bar with a beer in his hand.

  Maggie grabbed her friend’s hand and yanked it back down. Did Courtney have to be so obvious about everything? “Could you at least pretend to be discreet?” Maggie frowned. “He looks like a player,” Maggie said doubtfully. She took a sip of her drink. It burned all the way down. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had alcohol.

  “Sweetie, that’s what you need,” Courtney insisted. “You’re not looking for a relationship here. You just want to have a good time. Get back on the horse, so to speak. That means you need a guy that can really show you a good time.”

  “Yeah, but I want one that doesn’t come complete with VD.” Maggie was about ready to bolt. “Look, Court. I know you have my best interests at heart, but we are very different people. I don’t think I can do this.”

  About that time Maggie became aware of a man staring at her from across the club. The weight of his gaze made it feel as though there was no air in the room. Time seemed to slow and Maggie could not look away no matter how hard she tried. There was something utterly compelling about him.

  “Mags?” Courtney’s tone suggested she’d been trying to get Maggie’s attention for more than a moment. “Ha! You see someone, don’t you? Who? I demand to know what’s going on.”

  “Do you see that guy over there?” Maggie tried to be surreptitious about her pointing. Not that it mattered when Courtney was already rubbernecking to try and see who Maggie was pointing at. “Have you ever seen him in here before?”

  “That dark-haired dude?” Courtney’s blond brows drew together. “He looks scary.”

  Maggie tried to see what Courtney was seeing, but couldn’t. The man didn’t look scary to her, although he did appear intense. He was perhaps six feet tall and a bit more, a nice contrast to Maggie’s five feet eight inches. Most of the men she had dated over the years were barely tall enough for her to be able to wear heels. This guy wasn’t just tall. He was also broad. His shoulders were huge. They seemed to be straining against the confines of his dark-blue dress shirt.

  “Why does he look like he’s wearing business casual instead of club wear?” Maggie observed.

  Courtney laughed. “He’s probably a crime lord of some sort. You know, it’s like the Godfather. He’s only here to scope out a murder target or something.”

  “You are so full of crap.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “I think you missed your calling. Practicing Family Law doesn’t suit you if you’re so eager to find a criminal to nail to the wall. I finally find a guy that catches my eye and you paint him into one of your overdramatic fantasies.”

  “The guy is wearing black slacks and a dress shirt in a club.” Courtney waved to the sassy coral-pink dress that had taken Maggie days to pick out at the local boutique. “Don’t you want a guy who will appreciate what you’re offering?”

  Maggie wondered if it was possible to explain to a perky blonde extrovert like Courtney that sometimes it was okay not to stand out. Maggie’s brown hair, brown eyes and slender frame sometimes made people think she was much younger than her twenty-five years. Maybe this guy had the reverse problem. Maybe he was really in his mid twenties, but looked thirty-five.

  “He looks older.” It was Courtney’s turn to be doubtful. “Like much older.”

  “What if I want an older guy?” Maggie made a face at her friend. “I’m supposed to be getting sex lessons right? So an older guy would definitely have more experience.”

  “So go talk to him.” Courtney gave her a nudge. “Stop standing here asking me what I’d do and go do your own thing.”

  Now that the chips were on the table, Maggie wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. “No. Let’s just go home. I’ve changed my mind. This was a bad idea. I’ll be mad at you for it later.”

  “Hate to tell you, but it’s a little late for that.” Courtney downed the rest of her drink. “He’s totally coming over here. You know the drill. Text me in the morning. If I don’t hear from you by ten 10:00 a.m. I’m sending the cavalry.” Courtney shot Maggie the stink eye. “And for the record, I will be pissed. I want details!”

  Jacob did not make a habit of picking up women in clubs or bars. In fact, he did not make a habit of picking up women at all. When he wanted a woman, one of his men brought one to him. By the time any female made it to his bed she had been vetted by his men until there was no longer any hint mystery about her. This was very likely the reason he was so bored, and probably why he found the female in the pink dress so fascinating.

  He pushed his way past a group of dancers, earning several curses. He returned their dark looks with one of his own and they skittered away. He had discovered over the years that very few people could hold his gaze for long. This was another reason the brunette in the pink dress interested him. She had been staring.

  Across the club Jacob saw his man, Sasha preparing to intervene if someone should threaten Jacob. The presence of his security detail was almost suffocating. Yes. He was the top ranking man in the Dolohov crime syndicate. That got old so very quickly. For once Jacob wanted to be a normal man with normal desires. At the moment, his only desire involved the slim woman in the short pink dress with legs long enough to wrap around his waist. Jacob want
ed to stab his fingers through all of that long, dark hair and feel her surrender everything to him.

  Even in the smoky club he could see her eyes widen and her rate of breathing increase. She was nervous and excited. Perfect. Jacob felt his lips curve into a smile and hoped it wasn’t too rusty with disuse. “Hello, can I buy you a drink?”

  She looked at a loss momentarily, and then she rallied. “Yes, that would be wonderful.”

  “Bartender,” Jacob said sharply. He saw the young man snap to attention, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to tend to Jacob. “Get the young lady another drink.” Not a request, but an order.

  “Wow, talk about attitude,” the brunette commented.

  Jacob noticed her blond haired companion sidling away to pursue a conquest of her own. He dismissed the other woman in his mind and focused on this one. “My name is Jacob. And you are?”

  “Charmed, I’m sure.” She was laughing. This woman was actually laughing at him! Then she offered a smile that held a certain edge. “My name is Maggie.”

  “Maggie.” He tasted her name, finding that he liked the everyday sound of it. This was perfect. She was perfectly ordinary. “And what brings you to Club 599, Maggie?”

  “Oh you know, just hanging out with friends.” She cast glance in the direction of the blonde.

  “Why do I get the feeling that statement barely scratches the surface of why you’re here?” He watched her unconscious body language, trying to get a read on her.

  Her expression was almost playful. He found it charming. She wrinkled her nose at him. “What? A girl can’t go out unless she has some secret agenda?”

  “I didn’t say that,” he protested. “I simply suggested that you seem as if you’re here for a reason.”