Used by the Russian Mafia Boss: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Bella Rose

  “Just because you don’t understand what I did or what my reasons might have been, doesn’t mean I let my brother run my life!”

  Oh yes, she was angry now. The animosity practically made her vibrate with excitement. It also had the dual effect of making her look quite fetching. Ivan struggled to keep a solemn expression on his face.

  Emily narrowed her gaze until her dark eyes were slits. “I always knew you were as ignorant as you were arrogant, but this really takes the cake!”

  “Ignorant, am I?” He stood up, pushing away from her chair and forcing himself to put a little distance between them.

  He could feel the draw of her. The memories of what it felt like to gently stroke the skin between her breasts, to kiss her neck, or to hear the noises she made when she grew aroused began to play inside his head. He needed to keep moving and stick to his plan before it consumed him more thoroughly that it would her.

  “Come on.” He snapped his fingers. “Let’s go get some food. I’m starved and I’m sure you could use something as well.”

  “Maybe,” she allowed.

  “You know what,” he said grouchily. “If you do something stupid like go on a hunger strike, I’ll let you keel over from your own stupidity. Do you understand?”

  “And if you do something stupid, like say something that provides me with a reason to kill you, I’ll do it and not feel one moment’s pause. Do you understand?”

  Ivan burst out laughing in spite of himself. The belly laugh caught him by surprise, though it probably shouldn’t have. “Damn, Emily!” he said when he could speak. “Your wit is just as sharp as your mind. I must admit that I may not have taken that into consideration when I came up with this idea.”

  “Good,” she said decisively. “Then you’re already destined to lose.”

  Chapter Five

  Emily wondered if Ivan had made certain that all activity in the restaurant would utterly stop the moment he walked through the front doors. Regardless of whether or not he’d arranged it on purpose, the deference his staff showed him was rather confusing to contemplate. Was it real? Was it fake? Was it just pandering because he was the boss? Did Emily really care?

  “Right this way, Mr. Dedov,” the hostess gushed.

  The woman was wearing a black top so low cut that her breasts were practically spilling out. The only thing Emily noticed about this fact was that Ivan’s gaze didn’t seem to linger overlong on the cleavage.

  “Thank you, Veronica,” Ivan said casually. “I think I’d like a table in the middle of the room tonight, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh not at all!” Veronica’s round backside swayed side to side as she led them to a table in the center of the hustle and bustle of the restaurant.

  On one end of the room stretched a long bar. The mirrored back reflected light off of thousands of bottles of liquor. The other end of the room showcased a stage. A gleaming black grand piano sat in the center. A woman in a bright red dress practically draped herself over the instrument as she wailed a Russian love song at the top of her lungs. At least there was no dance floor. Dancing was not in Emily’s wheelhouse, despite the fact that she thought it beautiful to watch.

  “Thank you, Veronica,” Ivan told the hostess as he graciously pulled out Emily’s chair for her.

  Veronica shook her thick brown hair away from her face. “Anytime.”

  Emily managed to wait until the young woman had left the vicinity of their table before she chuckled to herself. Shaking her head to imitate Veronica, Emily affected a breathy tone of voice. “Anytime, Mr. Dedov.”

  “What are you doing?” Ivan didn’t look amused.

  She raised a brow. “I’m poking fun at your groupie.”

  “Groupie?”

  “Oh come on, surely you’re not completely oblivious to that sort of thing.” Emily cocked her head to one side, trying to read his unfathomable expression. “Or do things like that happen so often that you’ve ceased to notice?”

  His expression turned dark and brooding. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You were pestering me about my hypothetical love life,” she pointed out. “It’s only fair that I nag you about yours. Don’t you think?”

  Ivan raised his hand, signaling a waitress. The woman immediately hopped to. Ivan gestured to their table. “Bring us a bottle of red wine from my private collection, and I want two orders of my usual. Quickly, please? Tell Dimitri that I told him to hurry up.”

  “Yes, sir.” The waitress actually bobbed a little curtsey.

  Emily watched the poor woman scamper off and shook her head. “I would have never imagined you to be one to create an empire full of serfs.”

  ***

  Ivan could not decide what Emily was about. Instead of impressing her with his importance, he seemed to be somehow earning her scorn. It pissed him off. He felt his mood growing darker with each passing second.

  “When did you become queen of judgment?” Ivan snapped. “You keep talking about what I was like. What about yourself? When did you become so uptight and judgmental?”

  The waitress appeared with their wine. Ivan opened the bottle and poured a measure into his wineglass. He swirled the brilliant red liquid, sniffed it lightly to test the scent, and then took a sip. Finally he gave the woman a nod and indicated that she should fill their glasses.

  Emily spoke once they were alone again. “Do you remember our first bottle of wine?”

  “I had just turned twenty-one.”

  “I wasn’t even twenty,” she reminded him. “And you bought that cheap six-dollar bottle of white wine because you thought it would be romantic.”

  Ivan couldn’t help but smile at the memory. “And it tasted like shit.” He began to laugh. “Ah, your face! Your expression looked as if you’d just swallowed a lemon.”

  “You weren’t much better,” she reminded him. “In fact, I believe you spit yours out.”

  “So I did,” he mused. “We were at that park not far from your brother’s house.”

  “That was where we met most of the time.” Her voice was soft, her expression even gentler. “We were so young.”

  “Foolish,” he said gruffly. This was not the time to lapse into some trip down memory lane.

  “I never thought we were foolish,” she argued. “Just naïve.”

  “I’ve learned many things since then.”

  “How to boss people around,” she observed. “I noticed. You’re kind of an ass about it, actually.”

  “Like you and Sergei don’t do your fair share of bossing your employees around.” Why was he being so defensive? What did it matter what she thought?

  “I’d like to think that I’m respectful to my employees when I’m asking them to perform a task. And I never ask someone else to do something I wouldn’t do myself.” She picked up her wineglass and took a sip. “It’s good.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I don’t usually like wine.”

  “Do you have any pleasures in your life?” The question just slipped out.

  She shot him a strange look over the top of her glass. “It would seem that you often have too many.”

  “Yes, Emily,” he said sarcastically. “I’ve fucked every single woman who works in this restaurant. I always find it conducive to good business to have sex with my employees. Nothing says professionalism and profit like pissing off the women in my employ.”

  Her grim expression lasted all of ten seconds before she seemed to dissolve into laughter. “Okay, that was fair.”

  Ivan was taken aback. He’d expected her to get even more uptight. Instead she seemed to relax.

  “I’m sorry.” Emily ducked her head. “I’ve made a lot of assumptions about you based upon my brother’s opinions, which is stupid of me because we both know that Sergei is not a good judge of character. Can we just have a truce? For dinner, at least?”

  Ivan cocked his head. Was she playing some game with him? Did it matter? His plan to seduce her back int
o his bed in order to gain a fuller revenge on her brother was never going to work if she was constantly pissed off at him. He take this truce and use it to his advantage.

  ***

  Emily was feeling a little tipsy from all the wine, but it was the conversation that was making her feel so giddy. This was the Ivan she remembered. He was engaging and charming. She was laughing every other minute, and he had a knack for being silly in a way that seemed almost lighthearted.

  “You’ve changed,” he said quietly after they had been at their table for nearly an hour. “I don’t think Sergei realizes how lucky he is to have your loyalty.”

  She shrugged, taking another small sip of wine. “My brother is my only family. I will do anything I have to do for him in the same way that he’s cared for me over the years.”

  “Beautiful sentiment,” Ivan murmured. “Although I think Sergei is still getting the better end of the deal.”

  Emily felt frozen, a bit like a rabbit mesmerized by a snake. She watched as Ivan reached across the table and took her hand. His grip was warm and firm. She could feel the strength of his hand against her much smaller one and felt a corresponding pull in her womb. This man was unapologetic and hard. Yet he had a softer side he had rarely showed to anyone else.

  “What are you thinking?” he whispered the question across the table and she realized that they were almost the only people left in the restaurant.

  She opened her mouth to answer his question, but the front door of the restaurant slammed open and drew her attention away from Ivan. “What on earth…?”

  “Where’s Dedov?” A very familiar voice rolled through the restaurant.

  Emily’s eyes fluttered closed. She knew that ragged, angry tone nearly as well as anything else. It was Sergei.

  Across the table, Ivan had already lounged back in his seat, looking pleased.

  “Dedov?” Sergei shouted.

  “I’m right here,” Ivan drawled. “It isn’t necessary to scream and throw a tantrum.”

  Sergei charged in their direction. It was as if he hadn’t actually noticed Emily just yet. Sergei’s face was an ugly mask of anger. He stood over Ivan, glowering like an angry bear.

  “Have you met my companion, Sergei?” Ivan gestured across the table to Emily.

  If she could have gotten away with kicking him under the table, she would have. Instead she shot him a dirty look and prayed he would just shut up and let Sergei vent.

  No such luck. “Why don’t you explain to my assistant what your complaint is, Sergei.”

  “Assistant…” Sergei’s face began turning an ugly shade of red as his anger reached dangerous levels. Emily swallowed and wondered how she was going to get out of this situation without losing something she was afraid she’d never get back.

  ***

  Ivan was enjoying himself entirely too much. Sergei looked in danger of a heart attack. Of course, Ivan felt a trace of doubt when he saw the obvious distress on Emily’s face. But he could ignore that for the moment.

  “As I said, Sergei,” Ivan said casually, “why don’t you explain what’s got you so riled up.”

  Sergei stabbed his fingers through his hair. “My men just happened to all get rounded up by the cops and arrested on the same day.”

  “What?” Emily leaned forward, placing her hand on the table and looking positively ill. “Your men got arrested? How? Why?”

  “Someone must have tipped off the FBI.” Sergei made a fist and clenched his hand so hard that it shook. “That someone being you, Ivan! How dare you? I could go to the organization and have you sanctioned!”

  “I don’t think you’re going to do that.” Ivan held on to his temper, watching Sergei lose his with amusement.

  “What?” Sergei threw up his hands and paced in a little circle. “You’re lower than a snake’s belly, Dedov. Giving tips to the FBI in order to take down one of your own brothers? Surely you don’t think the bosses would approve of that?”

  “They might frown upon that, but I’m certain they would frown more if they discovered you’ve been padding your numbers and lying about your revenue in order to cover up your own incompetence.”

  Sergei turned to Emily. “What have you told him?”

  “Told him?” Emily was obviously aghast. “What are you talking about? I didn’t have to tell him anything! That’s what landed me in this position in the first place. You know that! I told you.”

  “How can I trust anything you say anymore? Now that you’re with him, I’ll never again be sure of your loyalty.”

  A sudden wave of darkness had Ivan shooting to his feet. “How dare you accuse Emily like that? After what she’s done for you? All of the things she is doing because she cares for your incompetent ass?”

  Sergei snarled something in Russian, getting right in Ivan’s face. Ivan knew that Sergei was strong, but he was confident in his own abilities. What he couldn’t stand was the look of horror on Emily’s face. He had his enemy right where he wanted him, and yet he didn’t even want to throw a punch. What was wrong with him?

  “Please stop,” Emily whispered. “Just stop.”

  Ivan moved away from the table and gently helped Emily out of her chair. “Let’s go, Ms. Volkov. There’s no need to listen to his ranting.”

  “Sergei,” Emily said softly. “I never wanted you to think badly of me. I hope you’ll try to understand why I did what I did.”

  Sergei sent a pointed look to Emily, gesturing to the hand that Ivan had on her elbow. “Perhaps I just can’t understand what you’re doing now.”

  Chapter Six

  Emily remained silent on the ride back to Ivan’s apartment. She simply didn’t know what to say. The dark night spooled by outside the windows of the car. The lights of the city smeared into one long stream of light that barely penetrated the deep shadows between buildings. It reminded Emily of her situation. She had accepted Ivan’s offer because she had thought it was the right thing to do. Now her intentions were like tiny pinpricks of light lost in the darkness.

  “Are you all right?” Ivan murmured once they had been in the car for nearly ten minutes.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She saw the muscles in his jaw leap as he ground his teeth. “Did you need to go by your own apartment to pack a bag?”

  “Not now.” She swallowed uncomfortably. “I’d like to wait until I’m certain that Sergei will be gone.”

  “The two of you are still sharing that old house?” Ivan sounded surprised.

  She snorted. “Our parents’ place, yes. You know, your research isn’t quite up to snuff. How is it that you don’t know these things about me?”

  “Perhaps it wasn’t you I was researching.” He kept looking over at her and she didn’t know what to make of the surreptitious glances. His expression wasn’t hard or angry. Then he reached over and took her hand. He lifted her fingers to his lips. “I only research an enemy, Emily. And you’ve never been my enemy.”

  “And yet you’re determined to use me to get revenge on my brother,” she pointed out. “I’m not naïve enough to believe that’s not part of your intention.”

  “That’s still about your brother and not you,” he whispered over the sensitive skin on her hand and she shivered a little.

  “Keep telling yourself that,” she whispered back. “Did you really tip off the FBI about my brother’s dealers?”

  “Does it matter?” Ivan let go of her hand and put his own back on the steering wheel. They were turning into the parking garage beneath his building now. “Your brother’s men are fools. The careless way they do business is endangering the rest of us. Perhaps it was their own stupidity that put them on the FBI’s radar.”

  “Perhaps.” She couldn’t help but think otherwise. “The reason I agreed to your proposition was to keep my brother out of trouble with the bosses and the organization. If your actions just throw him back into the line of fire, I don’t see why I would stay.”

  “I don’t know, Emily,” Ivan murmured. “Wh
y would you stay?”

  “Don’t play games with me, Ivan.” Emily tried to put some resolve into her voice. Ivan pulled into a parking space and she unbuckled her seat belt. She felt lightheaded from the wine she’d drunk, but not so much that she couldn’t see her own danger. “If you’re not going to keep your word, I’ve no reason to stay.”

  “I told you what my intentions are, Emily.” Ivan turned toward her. “I’ve never been anything but honest. Your brother put himself above the orphaned boy from Moscow. I only want to show him that he’s a fool.”

  Emily tried to reconcile that in her mind, but it was too fuzzy to make sense of anything but the softness of Ivan’s voice as he spoke to her. She rested her head against the back of the seat and tried to evaluate his face. She got distracted from the question of his honesty by the handsome cut of his jaw. He looked different now than he had eight years ago. His face was more chiseled. It fascinated her.

  Before she could think better of it, Emily reached out and stroked her fingers over his jawline. He caught her hand, bringing her palm to his lips and kissing it. A burst of awareness shot down her spine. Then Ivan leaned across the center console and cupped her cheek. His thumb brushed her lower lip. Emily realized that her heart was pounding and her breathing had gone ragged. The tension in the car was so thick that she could feel it wrapping around them.

  “Emily,” he whispered. “I want to kiss you. May I?”

  The soft plea for permission melted any remaining resistance. She lifted her face to his and held her breath as his lips descended to brush against hers. The touch was electric. She moved closer, parting her lips and sighing as his tongue swept inside her mouth. He made love to her with his mouth, the promise of more hovering between them.

  In the close confines of the car, she reached up to slip her fingers into his hair. The familiar feel of the silky strands took her back to a time eight years before when she had been so in love with this man.

  “Emily,” Ivan murmured. “I want you so badly.”

  “It’s not a good idea.” There was no resolve in her protest. Even she knew that.