Owned by the Mob Boss: A Dark Mafia Romance (Ivanovich Bratva) by Nicole Fox (fantasy books to read .txt) 📕

this guy too? Or maybe this is just my day to make men act like assholes.

“Can I help you?” I say, a little snappishly because I don’t like that look one bit.

“Is Mr. Ivanovich home?”

“He’s out.”

“Doing what?”

I laugh. “Do I look like his babysitter?”

He smiles tightly—or at least, I think it’s a smile. With him, it’s hard to tell. “That’s fine. I wanted to ask you a few questions, actually.”

I can’t stop my heartbeat drumming, my palms getting sweaty. A police officer wants to interrogate me? That only happens in movies.

“Would that be okay?”

I hesitate, then nod curtly.

“Great.” Again with that not-really-a-smile. “May we go inside?”

I sit back, feigning disinterest. He looks at me like I’ve just tried to buy a twelve-pack without ID. Anger begins to replace anxiety. I’m so sick and tired of being judged by men.

“I’m fine right here,” I tell him.

He folds his hands. “Fair enough. Mr. Ivanovich made a substantial payment into your account last week,” he says. “Would you care to explain what it was for?”

“Housekeeping,” I say without thinking. It even sounds fishy to me.

He narrows his eyes.

“That’s quite a chunk of change for housekeeping, Miss Greene. And, as I understand it, Mr. Ivanovich already has a housekeeping contract with Supreme Cleaning Limited.”

“Maybe he’s a germ freak,” I say. “It’s not my place to question my employer.”

Here I am, lying to the police again. Somehow, I keep my voice level.

“Housekeeping,” he muses. “And yet you have the leisure time to sit out here and enjoy the sunshine. Does Mr. Ivanovich let all of his employees make use of his garden? That’d be one hell of a tanned staff.”

It’s meant to be a joke, but there is a sinister note to his tone. His eyes get even narrower. At this rate, he’ll close them completely. At least then I wouldn’t have to endure this Law & Order shit.

“Look,” he sighs when I don’t reply. He squats down so we’re looking each other in the face. “You seem like a nice girl. I don’t know why you’re here, but I think it’s fair you know who you’re living with.”

His tone darkens. “Mr. Ivanovich is the leader of the Bratva crime organization, a notorious Russian Mafia that has been at the root of crime in this town since before my time with the force. He’s not the man you think he is.”

My throat closes. I try to speak, but I’m almost glad I can’t.

Because I have no idea what I would say.

Those whispers, those signs … did I ignore them on purpose? Or was I just that desperate for the money?

“Will you excuse me?” I stand up on shaky legs, but I won’t let this man see the effect he’s having. “I need to use the bathroom.”

“I’ll wait in the living room,” he says, hounding me to the door.

He’s knocked me off-balance, taken control of the interaction far too easily. One moment of vulnerability and he’s on me like a wolf.

I find myself letting him into the house as I zombie-walk to the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. I splash cold water in my face, trying to wake myself up.

He’s not just part of the Mafia.

He’s the motherfucking leader.

It all makes sense, now that I think about it. But what doesn’t make sense is how I would blind myself to it.

What did I think: upstanding citizens just loved to spend their evenings at sex auctions? Who else would turn up: Bill Gates? Mark fucking Zuckerberg?

I let out a strangled laugh into my reflection. “No,” I mutter aloud, when the truth hits me. “No fucking way.”

But it rings through my mind like a siren.

Was I ignoring my instincts because I have feelings for Erik? How would that even be possible?

I check off all the reasons it doesn’t make sense:

He bought me, check.

He treats me like a pet, check.

He wants to use me as an incubator, a broodmare, a baby-making machine—check, check, fucking check.

I’m gripping the edge of the sink so hard my fingernails bend against the enamel, almost snapping.

I need to kill these feelings, and kill them fast.

I signed a contract and I won’t go back on it, but I can’t let this seed of affection grow into anything bigger. That would be an absolute disaster.

My mind fills with violent, bloody scenes, all those things that come along with being a Mafia boss. He must’ve tortured people, blackmailed them, intimidated and … no, I can’t hide from it. He must’ve killed people, too, maybe even those people the detective is accusing him of.

I splash more water in my face and take a deep breath.

“Get your shit together,” I tell the girl in the mirror.

When I’m almost back to the living room, Erik’s casual voice drifts to me. “Thank you so much for the visit,” he is saying, “but you must give me warning next time, Detective. This is not how things are done.”

Not how things are done … He says it like a man used to bribing police, used to getting his way. Suddenly, I want to run from the house. But that would anger him, wouldn’t it? That’s the last thing I can do now.

If I felt trapped before, then right now I’m buried alive.

Erik and the detective appear in the doorway. Erik’s expression shifts subtly when he glances at me, his lips getting tight.

He knows something is wrong.

“It has been a pleasure talking with you, Miss Greene,” Detective McCauley says with hidden meaning. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

I stride past him into the living room, feeling like I’m in an observation tank with both of them gazing at me. I drop onto the sofa and run my hands up and down my legs. I squeeze my knees to stop them from shaking.

I have just about managed to get myself together when Erik returns. I aim a smile at him, not necessarily one hundred percent fake. Despite everything, I still feel something when I look into those intense, determined eyes. Talk