Kostya: A Dark Mafia Romance (Zinon Bratva) by Nicole Fox (my reading book .TXT) 📕

but in jeans and a T-shirt that makes him look about ten years younger. It’s a lot harder to associate this casual guy with some Mafia boss who could order my death as easily as he could convince me to bed.

It’s twenty minutes or so of stone-cold silence before the car arrives to drive us back to the “compound,” and I’ve never been more uncomfortable, more awkward. Not in tenth grade when I walked in on Mr. Monroe and Miss Dinkle doing the nasty on top of her desk in the math lab. Not even in college when I came home from the Alpha Delta Phi frat party to find my mom sitting on my dorm bed and had to explain why my shirt was on backwards. At no time in my life have I felt more conscious of who I am. Of where I do and do not belong. This moment falls squarely in the latter category.

In the car, the air is thick with tension—right up to the moment he reaches across the seat and laces our fingers together. I don’t dare speak. Probably couldn’t if I wanted to. But I don’t chance it because I don’t want to ruin the moment. I’d much rather concentrate on the sensation of his thumb sliding back and forth against the back of my hand.

I’m almost sorry when the car pulls into the circular drive in front of Kostya’s house. But then he smiles and brings my hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss against my palm before he lets go and opens his door. We meet at the stairs and smile at one another. When we walk in together, not touching, not even looking at one another, all the awkwardness is gone.

Until Tiana runs to me and hugs my legs so that I can’t move. She hasn’t run to Kostya, who has crouched to receive his welcome home. He stands and clears his throat and she looks up.

“Daddy!” She launches herself at him and throws her arms around both of our necks when he picks her up. “Daddy and Charlotte.” She repeats our names over and over as she holds us locked together.

“One big happy family,” drawls the voice I’ve been dreading.

My mother’s tone is sinister, I think. Maybe she’s angry that we left her so long when I told her it would only be a few hours. This is something else she’s going to add to the list of ways I’ve done her wrong. Can’t wait to spend the next decade unpacking this little debacle. The list of Ways I’ve Wronged Her isn’t big—I’ve tiptoed around her since I was old enough to recognize that as the smart move—but she certainly knows how to make the most of her God-given guilt- tripping abilities whenever an opportunity presents itself.

I force a smile onto my lips. “Hi, Mom. How did everything go?” My voice is bright and cheery because I’m trying to disentangle a three-year-old’s arm, and I don’t want my mom to know I’ve spent a night not thinking about how I’ve inconvenienced her, lest her list grow longer.

“It was fine. One of these … men … explained you were being held at the police station for questioning.” Her nose is wrinkled, and her eyes are narrow—her look one of distaste. I wonder if she’s had some sort of run in with one of Kostya’s soldiers.

But more, her choice of wording—“held”—concerns me. But there’s no way she could know anything about Kostya or his business.

“Oh, it … wasn’t like that. We weren’t being held.” And no way should we discuss it in front of Tiana. “We just had to give our statements.”

“All night?” Her eyebrow cocks and she looks me up and down, though there’s nothing to see. My hair is smooth. Makeup flawless. Clothes impeccable. Kostya saw to everything. And where I originally thought he just didn’t want anyone to know what had transpired between us, I’m now grateful he was thoughtful enough to have my stuff brought to me.

“There was a lot to go over, Mom.” It’s a necessary lie. Partly because she’s already annoyed and knowing what happened between me and Kostya won’t lessen that, and partly because we aren’t the kind of close that would make me want to tell her anything about my relationship—is it a relationship?—with Kostya.

But at least I can tell her he has started the search for Lila. That should help.

Kostya nods to Tiana. “She should go down for a nap, yes?”

I check my watch and glance from my mom to Kostya. No matter what happens between us, I’m still Charlotte’s nanny. “Right. Sorry. I’ll just take her up. Be right back, Mom.”

Instead of handing Tiana off to me when I reach for her, Kostya carries her up the stairs to her room and I walk beside him. Tiana is clinging to her father and I smile. They’re a family.

I let my hand dangle casually at my side, just in case he wants to hold it again, but he doesn’t, and I don’t reach for him either. Not until he puts Tiana in her bed and moves aside for me to kiss her cheek. When she turns away, Kostya pulls me against him and I’m right where I want to be.

“We should …” I motion with my head toward the door, but he captures my cheek with his palm and kisses me softly then lets me go.

“I have work to see to this afternoon.”

“Murder and mayhem?”

I can’t believe I’ve said it. It wasn’t a joke. I mean, maybe I meant it that way, but it’s too close to the truth to be funny. And it’s a truth that probably is meant to be unspoken. Plus, I said it in front of his daughter. Who isn’t quite the actress she believes she is as she pretends to sleep.

He glances at Tiana then clears his throat and doesn’t meet my eyes. “Something like that.” His murmur is accompanied by a frown before he turns to