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

I don’t care. This is for us.

My entire body shakes. Through the haze of euphoria, I hear Erik’s moans: low, rough. He’s close to finishing.

I open my orgasm-blurred eyes and find his lips again, breaking my rule. But it feels so fucking good to break it.

“Baby,” I whisper between kisses. “Oh fuck, baby.”

“Fuck!” he roars, far louder than my scream. A warrior’s war cry. “Camille!”

“Erik!”

We yell each other’s names proudly into the watching night over and over and over.

When we have both spent ourselves, he holds me aloft for a long time, hugging me close. I lay my head on his chest and listen to his pounding heartbeat.

Emotion, real emotion, moves through me like a soothing balm. And to think I used to pretend we could really keep this all about the cash.

When I slide to the floor and reach for my clothes, I feel his eyes on me.

Is he thinking the same thing? Does he sense something developing, too?

Shit.

This just got far more complicated.

14

Camille

“You put me to shame tonight,” Bethany says with a sly grin.

I wave a hand as we walk out to the parking lot.

“I think that’s actually mathematically impossible.”

She giggles. “Bethany plus Camille equals …”

“One kick-ass team?” I offer.

Even after a few nights of this back and forth, I find it difficult to convince myself this is the same ice-queen Bethany from before. But it’s so good to have a friend after so many years of living like I’m in a nunnery that I don’t question it too much. People change, I reason.

Hell, look at me and Erik. Oops, there he goes, jack-in-the-boxing into my consciousness again. No matter how hard I try to fight it, he keeps popping back up.

“Anyway,” Bethany says, giving me a quick hug. “Catch you tomorrow.”

I walk across the lot to where I left the sedan, but in its place is nothing. Empty parking spot. I pause for a moment, staring at it, and then mutter a curse and pull out my cell phone.

Shit.

This is just what I need: some asshole stealing Erik’s car. He wants me home right after class, but I’d planned on swinging by Mom’s place.

“Hey, yeah, I need a cab,” I say, flustered.

I give them the address and hang up. Shit.

As I’m pacing up and down—wondering how I’ll explain this to Erik—I spot a bunch of rough-looking men circling a teenage girl on the other side of the lot.

“Come on, baby,” one of them growls. “No one likes a cock tease.”

The girl turns in lost circles as the men pace around her like a fucked-up version of the Three Musketeers.

“Hey!” I call, walking over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The tallest man, wearing a baggy, dirty hoodie with a teardrop tattoo under his eye, turns to me.

“Oh?” he grunts. “Look here, boys. We’ve got a Good Samaritan.”

“She can’t be older than fourteen, you sick fuck,” I hiss. I nod at her as the other two turn their attention to me. “Get out of here, sweetheart.”

She doesn’t need any more encouragement. She ducks her head and disappears into the night.

That’s when I realize what I’ve done.

I’m the target now.

They prowl toward me, hands hanging suggestively at their sides, twitching. “We wanted somethin’ a bit more broken-in, anyway,” the man leers.

I take out my cell phone and call Erik as we do a strange sort of dance toward the other end of the lot.

“Yes?” he says curtly.

Oh, fan-fucking-tastic. Now he decides to go back to Mr. Cold? Could the timing be any worse?

“Are you gonna be here soon?” I ask loudly. “You better not be lost again!”

I try for a laugh. It comes out sounding nervous in the extreme, but it’s enough to give the men pause.

They glance at each other as though deciding whether or not to pounce.

“Lost?” He pauses. “Camille, are you okay?”

“No!” I giggle, as though he asked something else. “Are you serious?”

“Wait … Camille, are you alone?”

“No!” I cry again.

“How many?” he asks, his voice getting dark. “Are they Italian?”

“What? No. I can’t …”

“You can’t say how many?”

“Yes.”

“More than one?” he growls.

I let out a breath; the men are inching closer. “Yes.”

“Stay there. Do not move. But get somewhere safe if you can.”

For once, I’m glad he can read me so well.

When he hangs up I carry on talking, babbling as though giving him directions. These men are cowards, I guess, because they keep their distance when they think help is on the way.

But after about five minutes, the leader’s eyes get narrow. He glances at his friends.

“Bring the car around,” he grunts. “This bitch is playin’ us for fools, fellas.” Then he dives for me.

I don’t have time to think, not really, but thoughts of Mom and Rob and Erik flash like a flipbook through my mind. My life flashing before my eyes, or something like that.

I’m not about to go quietly, though.

I lash out wildly, catching him on the cheek with my nails. He recoils for just a moment. I see blood spotting on his cheek.

“Whore!” he roars, making to grab me in a bear hug.

I make a run for it, breath loud in my ears, adrenaline coursing like lightning through my body. I scream when he tightens his hand around my wrist, tugging.

Then the car pulls up.

Another man grabs my other wrist.

I kick my legs out, my mind tossing up headlines. Woman Abducted from Night School Parking Lot. They’ll have the security camera footage, of course. Maybe they can find me that way.

Or maybe they’ll find me at the bottom of a ditch—bloody, broken, and used.

“No!” I’m panting as he tries to shove my head into the car, a sick parody of a cop putting a criminal into the back seat. “Fuck off!”

“We got a wild one here, fellas,” a man chuckles.

They almost have me in the car when another screech sounds.

Erik’s sports car swings around, blocking the hood of their piece-of-shit Civic—always a damn Civic pulling me back, a detached part