Sold to the Mob Boss: A Mafia Romance (Lavrin Bratva) by Nicole Fox (best e books to read TXT) 📕

a dark cloud on the horizon. His jaw is clenched, a slight tick visible every couple of seconds. His nostrils flare with every breath.

“You really needed another fucking whore?” he grinds out in a raspy whisper.

“I haven’t purchased a new slave in a long time. I wanted something new.” I pick up my glass and take a slow sip with all the casualness I can muster. We’re like two jungle cats in the wild, prowling and sizing each other up. Violence is in the air.

“Just something new? Or were you trying to show me up?” Gino’s lips pull back over his teeth. “Because, for the amount of money you just spent, I would say your aim was to embarrass me.”

I set my glass down once more, holding Gino’s gaze and never blinking. “I’m not sure why you’re taking this personally. We have bigger things to discuss.”

Gino slams his fist down on the table and everyone turns toward him. “Bigger things to discuss? How about we discuss your lack of respect for a member of the council? How about we discuss what the consequences should be?”

My eyes narrow and my men step closer to the table. My fingertips drum against the mahogany surface as my gaze bounces between the members of the council, all of whom remain silent. One of the bikers grabs his drink and kicks his feet up on the table like he’s about to watch a movie. But everyone else is tense.

It’s taking every ounce of willpower I have in my body not to rise to Gino’s bait. He wants to get me riled up, but I won’t let him play me so easily. Calm. Control. Breathe. I feel the rage start to simmer back down, and my fist slowly unclenches.

Then Gino goes one step too far.

“Cat got your tongue, Nikita? You’re as silent as your dead old man.”

Big. Fucking. Mistake.

Burning fury hisses through my body. Inside, I’m a volcano erupting, anger pouring off of me like a wave. How dare this Italian fuck even mention my father? A million visions run through my head—slicing Gino to pieces, bleeding him out, dragging him down the highway behind my car—a million slow, painful deaths for his insolence, none less than he deserves. I want to lash out, to hurt him again and again.

But losing my temper is exactly what Gino wants. I’m an inferno on the inside; outwardly, I keep my features calm. My voice is acid as I ask him, “What did you just say?”

“Maybe it’s time for the Lavrin reign to end.” Gino sits back and cracks his knuckles. “I think it’s my turn to show you who you’re dealing with.”

The tension in the room is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. And after that threat, it takes me but a moment to realize every man’s hand is on his gun. Gino is obviously goading me, but tonight isn’t the night for eruptions. No matter how bad I want to put a motherfucking bullet in the fucker’s head.

I stand from my chair and place my palms flat on the table before I lean forward. “Nothing is done without the council’s prior approval, Gino. You got something you want to bring up, something you want to start over a fucking cheap whore? You want to start a war? If so, speak now.”

Gino smiles and holds his hands up in the air in mock surrender. “Relax, Nikita. I’m merely speaking aloud. On second thought, given the money you lost on that bid, I think we’re even.”

I stand straight and pull on the lapels of my jacket. I take a couple of deep breaths to try and calm myself down. Truth be told, the entire room needs to calm down. Gino might have started this, but tension-filled cokeheads with guns are likely to be more dangerous than him right now.

I push back my chair and head over to the bar to add more ice to my glass. Not that I need more ice, but if I keep standing—or start pacing—everyone is going to continue to remain on edge. The peace between the families, between the elites, must be kept if I want to pull off the weapons shipment I have coming in. I need their full cooperation.

Eitan clears his throat and speaks up, beginning the normal process of the meeting. The tension has eased somewhat, but no one’s hand has strayed too far from his weapon of choice. “To business now, gentlemen. First item on the docket: Lenny, you still have use of the docks in two nights, correct?”

Lenny, the Devil’s Canyon Motorcycle Club president, runs one of the largest clubs in the city and they’re all business. Hell, Lenny used to work for a Fortune 500 company, and he took what he learned and incorporated it into his club. The man runs a tight ship. The thought of bikers using spreadsheets still makes me laugh.

Lenny nods. “Double-checked everything this morning. Going to have a talk with the guys to make sure everyone knows what they’re doing.”

The meeting goes on, Eitan confirming with the other members of the council that protection and distribution are in place, that the proper police and port authorities have been paid off. Lenny runs over statistics and details about the docks, which of his men will be helping, points of entry we need to keep an eye on in case the feds get tipped off for any reason, and myriad other aspects including getaway plans that incorporate the dock layout. When everything has been checked off, the conversation turns to other upcoming projects being undertaken by various family heads.

The whole time, Gino smokes cigarette after cigarette, exhaling a continuous stream of foul smoke in my direction. I hate the stench. The odor somehow finds a way to permeate my suits and even the dry cleaner can’t fully remove the smell.

I wonder what Gino could be cooking up. It’s not as if I’m vulnerable, my performance at the auction tonight notwithstanding. My power