Betrayed Honor: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Ivanov Crime Family Book 3)

by Zoe Blake

  “Not today, kroshka.”

  “But we will one day?”

  He nodded. “When you are ready. Until then, I promise, there will be no more talk of white picket fences and babies.”

  I shrugged. “Well, there could be some talk.”

  Setting me to his side on the pew, he rose and leaned over the pew in front to grab my jacket and purse. As I stood, he put my jacket on me and zipped it up. It was such a girlfriend-boyfriendy thing to do. He then leaned down to sweep me in his arms. After giving me a hard kiss on the mouth, he said, “Yes, but for now, the last thing I want to do with you is talk.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck as I rested my head on his shoulder. He really was a Neanderthal caveman, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Epilogue

  Nadia

  “Oh! It says here that Le Guayaba Verde has a dish called pulpo de Juan Griego. It’s octopus served with capers, raisins, and pesto. That sounds different! We should try it. I really want to go here. It looks perfect!”

  “Baby,” said Mikhail.

  “Oh! It says we have to taste something called an arepa. It’s made from maize and stuffed with beef and avocado. It’s like the national dish of Venezuela, so we have to try it.”

  “Kroshka.”

  “I also promised Yelena I would pick up a Carolina Herrera signature clutch. Apparently, she is some famous designer from Venezuela who designed for Jacqueline Kennedy.”

  “Babygirl,” said Mikhail as he placed his hand over the travel book I had been reading different restaurant descriptions from.

  I was beyond excited. After a month of begging, cajoling, fighting, and pouting, Mikhail had finally agreed to take me with him on his business trip for my brothers.

  The last few weeks had been amazing. When we returned from London, Mikhail took me back to his penthouse, and it shocked me to see it completely empty. All the boring beige fake decor and furniture had been removed. He then handed me a printout of all the garage sales in the area for that weekend. We filled it with secondhand furniture, old photos of people we didn’t know, and dented tin cookie cans. It was wonderful. We also transformed one bedroom into a workshop for the both of us. Day after day, we sat side by side as I worked on the jewelry I planned to showcase in my new shop with Samara and Yelena, and he cleaned and worked on customizing his guns. I continued to surprise him with my knowledge of weapons, and it turned out I had a knack for customizing them.

  We had arrived in Venezuela by a private plane in the very early hours of the morning. We laid low in a small stucco house in a residential neighborhood before making our way into the city at dusk. We were both dressed casually as tourists.

  “You know we are supposed to be tourists,” I grumbled.

  “It doesn’t mean we actually are tourists,” Mikhail fired back as he gave one of my ponytails a playful tug.

  “Come on. There is nothing to say we can’t have dinner afterwards!” I responded with a pout.

  I was fast learning that Mikhail was particularly susceptible to my pouts, especially when I puckered my lips in a small moue. I had never really considered myself a flirt. Truth be told, I was wretchedly awkward at it, but for some reason, it came naturally with Mikhail. I liked watching his eyes darken whenever he looked at my mouth or when I said something deliberately sassy to provoke him into spanking me.

  There was just something about how he would growl my dirty girl that really did it for me. I really loved how he made me beg for his cock whenever he took my ass. I never would have thought that submitting to Mikhail would actually lead to me feeling more confident and self-assured, but it did. He made me feel beautiful and desired. There was no more hiding behind those dusty shelves in my old vacuum repair shop. With Mikhail by my side, I wanted to experience the world. I had finally come into my own.

  My cheeks flushed as I thought of the role-playing he started earlier on the plane.

  “Tell me what a bad girl you are,” he said against my neck as he scraped his teeth along the delicate skin just below my neck.

  “I… I…”

  Reaching up, he pinched my left nipple till I cried out.

  “Tell me.”

  “I am a bad girl,” I breathed.

  “And where do I put my cock to punish my bad girl?”

  “Oh God!”

  “Tell me, baby. Where am I going to put my cock to punish you for being such a bad girl?” he demanded as he rubbed the top of his thigh against my cunt.

  I hesitated, and he pinched my nipple harder. I had no choice but to happily submit.

  “In my ass! You’re going to put it in my ass!”

  “That’s right, babygirl. And this time I won’t take it slow. Maybe I need to force my enormous fist into your tiny little asshole.”

  “No! Please, that would… oh God… that would hurt too much.”

  “Yes, it would. It would certainly be a punishment you wouldn’t forget. Wouldn’t it, baby?”

  “Yes,” I whimpered.

  He bit my earlobe. “Should I force your little puckered hole to gape with this fist?”

  “No!”

  He bit my earlobe harder. “Wrong answer. Try again.”

  With a small sob, I relented. “Yes, whatever you want.”

  “Remember that from now on. Whatever I want. This little body is mine now. Whenever I want. And my word is now law. You understand?”

  He then fucked me till I would have given him my very soul. I would no longer shy away from life. From now on, I wanted danger and adventure. Roar!

  Even with the setting sun, it was still warm in the Plaza Bolivar. We made our way into the cool of Catedral de Caracas. It was a Romanesque white stone cathedral from the sixteenth century.

  Moving slowly so as not to attract attention, we made our way to the nave to the right of the entrance. In the shadows, there was a wooden door secured only with a simple knob lock.

  “Bobby pin?”

  I pulled the bobby pin from behind my ear. One thick strawberry blonde curl fell forward. Mikhail smiled as he tucked it behind my ear. Giving the tip of my nose a quick kiss, he bent to make quick work of the basic lock.

  For such a beautiful church, the stairs leading to the bell tower were ugly and industrial looking. At the landing, the metal staircase abruptly and awkwardly ended and was replaced by a set of wooden stairs which looked like they dated back to the sixteenth century. Mikhail carefully stepped on the narrower step and tested his weight.

  “Seems solid, but I’ll go first.”

  He climbed the few stairs and raised his arms over his head to push up the floor trapdoor which led to the top of the tower. After climbing up, he motioned for me to follow. Despite being open on all four sides, the air felt stale and old. Replacing the trapdoor, Mikhail hunched down and looked up into the wide mouth of the massive cast-iron bell. He reached up, and there was a loud tearing sound before he pulled free a package secured to the bell with duct tape. Laying it on the dusty wooden floor, he flipped open his boot knife and cut away the rest of the tape. After unrolling the blanket, a Barrett M82 came into view. It was a decent sniper rifle that was pretty popular with the Army.

  “So, this guy is a dirty politician who's been stealing our gun shipments to use the weapons against his own people to keep them oppressed and scared?”

  “Yep,” Mikhail said as he checked the .50 BMG centerfire cartridges in the ten-round detachable magazine. “It’s why he has to die today.”

  I looked out over the Plaza Bolivar. It was a wide-open square in the center of Caracas. It was popular for large political rallies. On the other side of the plaza, there was a platform with a podium flanked by two massive speakers. They had decorated the staging with festoons in the Venezuelan flag colors of blue, yellow, and red. There had been a great deal of economic hardship which, as it inevitably does, had led to a great deal of upheaval.

  The man scheduled to give a speech in about a half an hour was dangerously conservative and very
anti-American. The CIA wanted him dead, which meant they would actually owe a favor to my brothers and Mikhail for making it happen. That was probably one of the biggest surprises I learned after I finally started asking questions about my family’s business. How often Gregor and Damien agreed to help different governments take out disreputable troublemakers. For a fee of course, off the books.

  This type of arrangement also helped sell their product. Apparently, they had several clients interested in a shipment of Barrett M82s they had just acquired. Letting it be known that was the gun that had taken care of a certain Venezuelan politician would up its value and start a bidding war.

  On the plane here, I’d asked Mikhail, “How do they hide the money?”

  “As far as Congress is concerned, I am a subcontractor under an indefinite delivery indefinite quantity contract who is designing a stronger shoelace for regulation army boots.”

  “Seriously?”

  Mikhail shrugged. “There is over $130 billion a year spent on these types of contracts. I’d say a strong twenty percent of them go to pay black op CIA operations like political assassinations.”

  Now we were holed up in the bell tower, waiting for the cover of darkness. The plaza was slowly filling with people coming to hear the politician speak. Some carried signs. Others just ambled in groups. Still others looked like tourists curious about the crowd.

  I turned back to Mikhail. “Are you shooting through an armored vehicle as the target arrives?”

  Mikhail shook his head. “No. I’m going to take him out as he steps up to the podium. One clean shot.”

  I shook my head. “Are you sure a Lobaev SVL wouldn’t have been a better choice? It’s a much more accurate long-range sniper rifle. We could have fit it with a crazy cool Nightforce 5.5 22X50 NXS telescopic sight.”

  “Yes, but then the Venezuela opposition would assume the Russians were behind the hit and that would start a whole different set of issues the U.S. doesn’t want, at least not yet. And your brothers have crates of Barretts to sell, not Lobaev SVLs.”

  “Still, the Barrett is best for shooting through military equipment and armored vehicles. Not a hit between the eyes 1200 meters away!”

  Mikhail rose and grabbed me around the waist. Placing his hand behind my head, he pulled me in for a kiss. As usual, he took charge, sweeping his tongue in to play with my own, gently biting my bottom lip before delving in for another taste. By the time he was done, it left me breathless and dizzy.

  Stroking his knuckles down my cheek, he said, “I love when you talk guns and ammo with me. It’s so fucking sexy.”

  I blushed in response. These last few months, it had been fun sharing a workspace. Mikhail had shown an interest in my jewelry designs and even helped me with the fashioning and welding of some pieces. In return, he was teaching more about the different guns my family sold.

  Mikhail returned to setting up the gun just as my phone rang. A photo of Samara from her wedding popped up on the screen.

  “Hello!”

  “Hey Nadia, I’m not interrupting, am I?”

  “No, Mikhail is just setting up the rifle now.”

  “Good. I just wanted to make sure you’re going to make it back in time for the gallery opening.”

  “Of course!”

  Samara was doing a small showing of her work at an upscale gallery in Georgetown as a way to create buzz for our new boutique, Runaway Gallery & Designs. Yelena had hired models who were going to walk around the art show wearing her fashion designs and my jewelry. It was going to be so much fun.

  “Gregor’s a wreck. He’s really nervous for me. He’s threatening to buy and then shut down any publication which says anything negative. I think it’s adorable. Damien of course won’t stop teasing him for it.”

  Mikhail gave me the signal that he was ready.

  “I have to go.”

  “How exciting! Your first business trip. Tell Mikhail I said hi!”

  “I will.”

  I laid my coat on the ground and then kneeled next to Mikhail. He was looking through the scope. Without turning his head, he said, “Kroshka, can you grab the velocity meter out of my bag and get me the crosswind vectors?”

  I pulled free the small hand-held device from his bag and turned it on. Holding up the small fan-like portion, I read out the readings to Mikhail.

  “Thanks, baby.”

  I watched him as he adjusted the scope and made other minor adjustments. For the average shooter, this would be a tough shot. Not for Mikhail. It was one reason why he was the best.

  But not the only reason.

  “Marry me,” I blurted out.

  Mikhail turned away from the rifle and stared at me for a moment.

  I could feel heat rising up my neck and over my cheeks. “I mean… well… if you want to… I mean… I….” I stammered, shocked by my impulsive proposal. “You said when I was ready.”

  So much for living dangerously and grabbing life by the horns!

  I mean, I knew he wanted to marry me and loved me, and I certainly loved him.

  Maybe he had changed his mind?

  Oh God, what if he had changed his mind?

  Had I just ruined the best thing in my life?

  Had I just scared off the man I love after already making him wait three years?

  Oh God!

  With an amused chuckle, Mikhail leaned over and kissed me.

  “Is that a yes?” I asked tentatively.

  “No.”

  What?

  My heart fell.

  I bit my lip as I turned away, not wanting him to see me cry.

  Quickly there was a powerful pair of arms wrapped around my shoulders from behind. Mikhail whispered into my ear, “The guys would never let me live it down if they found out you proposed to me. You’re just going to have to be patient and wait for me to ask again.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Again?” I said, teasing him for his demand I marry him the last time, which was decidedly not very proposal like.

  He kissed my nose. “Just for that, I’m going to make you wait a little longer.”

  I turned my head to caress my cheek against his. “How much longer?”

  “If you’re a good girl...” He paused and gave me a wink, knowing I was waiting on pins and needles for him to continue. “...later at Le Guayaba Verde, over a dish of pulpo de Juan Griego with some champagne.”

  I clapped my hands in excitement.

  “But first we have to kill this guy, so double-check those readings and then let me get back to work,” he said in a teasingly firm voice.

  Dinner was still a few hours away, but he was worth the wait.

  The end.

  About Zoe Blake

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author in Dark Romance

  She delights in writing Dark Romance books filled with overly-possessive Billionaires, Taboo scenes and Unexpected twists. She usually spends her ill-gotten gains on martinis, travel and red lipstick. Since she can barely boil water, she’s lucky enough to be married to a sexy Chef.

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  Also By Zoe Blake

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  It was an innocent mistake.

  She knocked on the wrong door.

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  If I were a better man, I would've just let her go.

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bsp; I ruthlessly claimed her virtue for my own.

  It should have been enough.

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  I needed more.

  Craved it.

  She became my obsession.

  Her sweetness and purity taunted my dark soul.

  The need to possess her nearly drove me mad.

  A Russian arms dealer had no business pursuing a naive librarian student.

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  I would bring her only pain.

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  Read for FREE in Kindle Unlimited! Get Sweet Cruelty here!

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  Ivanov Crime Family Trilogy, Book One

  I took her innocence as payment.

  She was far too young and naïve to be betrothed to a monster like me.

  I would bring only pain and darkness into her sheltered world.

  That’s why she ran.

  I should’ve just let her go…

  She never asked to marry into a powerful Russian mafia family.

  None of this was her choice.

  Unfortunately for her, I don’t care.

  I own her… and after three years of searching… I’ve found her.

  My runaway bride was about to learn disobedience has consequences… punishing ones.

  Having her in my arms and under my control had become an obsession.

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  Grab Savage Vow here!

  VICIOUS OATH

  Yelena & Damien’s story

  Ivanov Crime Family Trilogy, Book Two

  When I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed.

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