by Bella Rose
Russian Mafia Boss's Heir
By: Bella Rose
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright 2016 Bella Rose
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Table of Contents
Russian Mafia Boss’s Heir
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
BONUS STORY!
Russian Mobster’s Claimed Mistress
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 One
“I don’t care who Mikhail is. I don’t care who he’s going to be. I don’t want to marry him, and that’s final!” Tori put every ounce of defiance she could muster into her expression and glared at her stepfather.
She couldn’t count the number of times she’d been in this study over the years. She had come here to play as a little girl, crawling around on the floor while her stepfather conducted business on the phone. She’d sat at the big desk and drawn pictures when she had gotten older. And then there were the hours upon hours she had spent sitting in the big leather chair while he lectured her about her penchant for unruly behavior. But today was different from anything else that had come before here. Today she was arguing for her future.
“Tori, you must be reasonable.” Stanislas Vasiliev was a powerful man within the Boston Bratva organization. He was a classic Russian mafiya man, from his narrow face and pointy goatee, to his tailored suit and stoic demeanor. “I am making arrangements for your future. I will not be here to clean up your messes and take care of you forever.”
Tori couldn’t be certain what pissed her off more...the idea that her stepfather thought he had to clean up her messes, or the idea that he was getting older and might die someday.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” she said, forcing herself to be nonchalant despite her worries. “You’re healthy, and I don’t need you to take care of me or my messes. I can take care of myself!”
“Tori.” Stanislas leaned forward across his desk, resting his elbows on the smooth top and pressing his hands together as though he were praying for her compliance. “I have no son to take my place within the Bratva. After Alexei ran away, there is nobody. I must name a successor.”
Tori shrugged. “So name him. Whatever. It has no affect on me.”
“Mikhail is my successor. I have notified the council. They have approved my choice.” Stanislas’s intense blue eyes bore into her as though he could see right through her. “The only thing that remains is to fortify Mikhail’s position within my household.”
“What does that mean?” Tori had a sinking feeling she knew exactly what that meant. “I’m not Alexei. I’m not your natural child. That’s not for me to do!”
Stanislas ground his teeth together. Tori had seen that look a lot. Usually it followed one of her more reckless decisions, when she was dragged into the study and forced to listen to her stepfather lecture on proper behavior for a young woman of the Bratva.
“Alexei was my son.” Stanislas’s voice was ice cold. “He was also a coward.”
“Being gay does not make him a coward. You have to stop judging him for that someday.” Alexei had been her brother in every way that counted. Yet she kept it a secret from Stanislas that she continued to communicate with Alexei even though he had been cast out.
“Alexei ran from his responsibilities.” Stanislas stood suddenly, pushing away from the desk and turning his back to Tori. He folded his hands behind him and stared out the window. “My son could not handle the life of a mafiya man. He was too squeamish. Too weak. Mikhail is nothing like him! Mikhail is strong. He is loyal. He has been tested over and over again. But to make him my son, I must marry him to my daughter.”
“That’s not fair.” She felt bitter. Why should she be condemned to a loveless marriage of convenience just to preserve the stupid Bratva? “Why don’t you marry Mikhail to your son?”
The way Stanislas spun around to face her told Tori in no uncertain terms that she had gone too far with her insolence. She bit her lip. She was well aware of exactly why her stepfather wanted her to marry Mikhail Ivanov. She just didn’t like being told what to do.
“Victoria,” Stanislas said slowly. “You will do this for me. You are my child in every way that matters. I have given you much. I will continue to give you everything your position deserves. You cannot follow in Alexei’s footsteps. You cannot turn your back on your Papa.”
That was low. Tori felt every last bit of fight draining from her body. “You’re the only parent I know. My mother died when I was five years old, and you still haven’t told me what really happened. So I guess I have no choice. Is that what you’re telling me? That if I want to be a good daughter to the man who has taken care of me like his own child, I’ll stop thinking that marriage is supposed to be about love and accept that it’s about strengthening alliances and balancing power?”
“Your mother and I were married for such a reason,” Stanislas said, his voice soft. “Her people—the Orlovs—are a powerful Bratva family. The council wanted to see the end of the feuding. Your mother’s first husband—your father—was an Orlov enforcer who got killed in a warehouse raid, leaving her with a tiny baby to look after.”
Tori held her breath. All of her life, nobody had ever told her even this much about her origins. Why? And why had it never occurred to her to ask?
Her stepfather wasn’t done. “Your mother and I were ordered to marry to bring peace. Yet it was more than that. It was love. I loved her. I loved you. My wife had died bringing Alexei into the world. We were finally a family.”
“Then she died too,” Tori said bitterly. “And so what if you were ordered to marry. You guys loved each other. But what if Mikhail and I never have that? What if I never have that? Are you okay with that? Or you just don’t care?”
“Security is far more important than love.” The note of finality in his tone sent a chill down her spine. “You will marry him. Tomorrow. And you will be obedient and respectful to him as you should be.”
Anger made her lightheaded, but there was no point in arguing now. Her fate was sealed. “Fine.”
“Now leave me and go to your room. You may pack whatever you need, and we will pack and move the rest next week.”
She gaped at him. “What?”
“You’ll be moving to Mikhail’s home. A married woman lives with her husband.” He looked at her as though she were a simpleton. “Surely you did not expect to live separate from him once you were wed.”
“I didn’t think about it at all since I never intended to actually marry the man.” She stood up. “Whateve
r.” She held up her hand. “Don’t lecture me anymore. I’m tired of it already.”
Stanislas gave an imperious wave of his hand. “Leave me, and tell Mikhail I wish to speak with him.”
“Where is he?”
“Right outside the door.”
***
MIKHAIL IVANOV STOOD with his legs braced and his hands clasped loosely before him. He hadn’t missed the resonating sound of raised voices inside Stanislas’s office. It didn’t set well with Mikhail that he had been ordered to marry a woman he didn’t particularly want, and one who didn’t particularly want him, either. Yet he wanted to lead. And he was concerned for the Vasilievs. Once Stanislas was gone, either his successor would lead them with a strong hand and keep other families from sniffing around and trying to take over their businesses and enterprises one at a time. Or the successor would be weak and the family would fall.
Since Stanislas had approached Mikhail about the leadership position nearly a year before, Mikhail had known what taking the position would entail. He had just never truly thought about what it might be like to marry a woman who did not want him.
The study’s door knob turned a second before the door flew open and smacked the wall behind it with a thud. Tori Orlov-Vasiliev strode into the hallway looking like a woman on a mission.
Mikhail stared at her. He was unable to completely quash the satisfaction the sight brought him. She might not want to marry him, but she was a beautiful woman who would bring status to any man regardless of her wishes.
Her willowy frame was a few inches shy of his six feet. She had curves in all the right places, and a set of breasts that any man would kill just to touch. Her long black hair fell nearly to her waist in silken waves, and her blue eyes often sparkled with mischief. She was gorgeous, intelligent, and independent. It was a killer combination, and Mikhail had no doubt she would be a formidable adversary should she choose to challenge his authority.
“Go on in,” Tori said, her voice dripping insolence. “He apparently wants to discuss our impending nuptials.”
Mikhail cocked his head to one side. He instinctively knew there was nothing he could say to soothe her ruffled feathers.
“What?” She put one hand on her hip and gave him a look of such venom that Mikhail wondered if he would have scorch marks. “Don’t you have anything to say?”
“Is there anything I could say that you would particularly want to hear?” Mikhail ventured, wondering how she would respond.
“Yeah!” She glared up at him, getting right in his face until he couldn’t help but catch a strong whiff of her delicate feminine scent. She smelled intoxicating. “You could tell me that you refuse to go through with this farce of a wedding. That would be a welcome announcement.”
“But I’m not opposed to this wedding,” he murmured. “You’re a beautiful woman. What man would not want to call you his own?”
“Your own?” She was practically snorting fire now. “I belong to no one.” She put a finger in his chest and poked. Hard. “Least of all some upstart enforcer who managed to win over my stepfather with his lapdog loyalty.”
Mikhail let that slide. It was a grossly inaccurate profile of his status within the Vasiliev ranks, and it was likely that Tori was simply trying to goad him into anger.
Instead, he took a deep breath and refused to engage. “I’m sorry you’re angry about this match. I will do my utmost to be a loyal, faithful, and attentive husband.” He felt an unconscious stirring in his groin. “In every aspect of our marriage.”
“Oh, you’d better not think you’re going to get any of this!” She gestured crudely to her beautiful body. “I’d rather fuck every single one of your men and leave you hanging like the dog you are!”
Anger swept through Mikhail like a wildfire.
He grabbed Tori by the arms and swung her around. He placed her between his body and the wall, pressing against her and holding her quite carefully. He lowered his face to hers, barely brushing her lips with his. He could feel the tension in her body, but it wasn’t fear that he sensed. It was arousal. Her pupils were dilated, her breath coming in short, quick pants. Her nipples hardened into tiny points that pressed into his chest. She was turned on, and there was no way she could even begin to hide it.
“You may say whatever you wish to me,” Mikhail told her, his tone promising deadly retribution. “But be assured that if you think to make a fool of me by spreading your legs for other men, you will be more sorry than you can possibly imagine.”
Her mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. “Why?”
He pressed his lips to her neck. A soft groan escaped her lips. Then he spoke. “Because I will satisfy you beyond your wildest dreams if you let me. No other man could do more. But I will have your loyalty, or there will be nothing in it for you. Nothing.”
Chapter Two
After Mikhail entered the study and left her there in the hall, Tori could barely stand. Her knees were knocking together, and her pussy was so wet she was afraid she might actually climax right there in the hallway outside her stepfather’s study. Never had a man affected her the way Mikhail did. What. The. Hell?
She didn’t want to be affected by him. She wanted to hate him. He wasn’t her choice. Instead, her body was choosing without her consent. There was something so basely sexual about the man. His presence made her head spin. He smelled of sandalwood and power. It was as if some bizarre primal force drew her to him.
She turned and pressed her forehead to the wall to try and get herself under control. She closed her eyes, but she could still see him in her mind’s eye. That lean, six-foot frame was packed with lean muscle. Each slab was carefully etched as though a master sculptor had fashioned Mikhail from the finest marble.
His eyes were so dark. Sometimes when she gazed at him she wondered if she would see Hell in their black depths. His brown hair was the color of warm honey. It fell across his forehead in a deceptively boyish fashion. She’d often wondered why he kept it longer than fashion dictated. Of course, Mikhail didn’t seem to particularly care about fashion or looks, or anything else really.
“Cold,” she whispered. “He’s so very cold. If I remember that, I’ll keep my head.”
Tori pushed away from the wall and stalked upstairs. So her stepfather wanted her to pack her things like a good girl and get ready to move in with her new husband? Like hell! Girls getting married had bachelorette parties, right? So why should Tori be denied the chance to let loose just because she was marrying for power and not love?
Her steps grew faster and faster until she was practically sprinting toward her bedroom. She flew through the doorway and slammed the door shut behind her. The closet was her goal. Not to pack, but to find the perfect dress to have one last naughty night on the town in.
It didn’t take long to dig out the little pink number she was thinking of. It had a short, sassy skirt that barely hit her mid thigh. The sides were cut out, the back was shockingly low cut, and the neckline dipped so close to her cleavage that wearing a bra was impossible.
Tori stripped out of her clothing and pulled the dress over her head. It settled around her bottom like an old friend ready to party. She shoved her feet into her favorite high-heeled silver sandals and pulled out her phone. One quick group text, and she knew she wouldn’t be alone at the club. Tonight, she didn’t want to be alone. She just wanted to forget.
Staring into the mirror, she freshened her makeup and added some smoky silver eye shadow. She ran a quick comb through her long hair and tried to decide what to do with it. Finally opting to leave it down, she turned and headed out onto her balcony. She’d been sneaking out this way for more than a decade. One might think her father’s men would have figured it out by now.
***
“MISS VASILIEV JUST left via her balcony.”
Mikhail gave a slow nod to indicate he’d heard the guard’s murmured warning, but gave no other external sign that he cared about Miss Vasiliev’s actions one way or the other. It wou
ld do him no good to rant and rail at the man. Tori had been sneaking out for ages. If there had ever been an attempt to quash the behavior, he’d never heard of any tactics that had worked.
On the other side of the desk, Stanislas cursed. Mikhail raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like the older man to show any outward reaction to Tori’s behavior, either. Mikhail wondered what had changed.
“I’m certain Tori is simply blowing off some steam. You know she likes to dance to work off stress,” Mikhail said with an intentional air of nonchalance.
Stanislas waited for the study door to close. Once the guard had left them alone, Stanislas glowered. “I want this wild behavior to end. It is time for her to settle down to her duties and stop acting like a child.”
“She’s not acting like a child,” Mikhail argued quietly. “She’s making choices like any adult would.”
Stanislas pointed one narrow finger at him. “You had better not make the mistake of allowing her to bully you into getting her own way! Her mother was exactly the same. It took a firm hand to bring her to heel.”
“Bring her to heel?” Mikhail frowned. “She is not a dog.”
“Perhaps not,” Stanislas sighed. He rubbed his hands down his face. “But her reckless behavior is going to create so much trouble for us with the council. If I cannot control my daughter, how can I be trusted to continue running my syndicate?”
“If the council is looking to point fingers at bad parenting, I would think the Orlovs have much more to answer for than you do.” Mikhail gave a snort as he recalled the latest bit of gossip about Stanislas’s deceased wife’s family. “Rumor has it that the old man’s eldest son and heir has been caught molesting the daughters of two of his enforcers.”
“Disgusting,” Stanislas spat. “What sort of man preys upon children that way?”
“He is your dead wife’s nephew,” Mikhail pointed out. “Perhaps we chose wisely when we backed out of that deal to sell them a percentage of the resort. I don’t know about you, but I don’t care to be in business with a family run by a pedophile.”