Protected by a Mobster 2: A Russian Mafia Romance (Volsky Mafia) by Jacee Macguire
Authors: Jacee Macguire
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he wants you to stay here and wait for him. Okay?”
I nodded and sipped my drink. Left alone in the expanse of the office, I grabbed the near-empty bottle of vodka and walked around the room, taking everything in. When I made it to the desk, I plopped down in the leather chair, kicked my heeled feet up on the desk, and waited. The heat from the vodka radiated throughout my body, warming my skin.
I closed my eyes and let my mind wander over everything that had happened these last few months and tried not to think about the fight and what would come after. My mind took me to our wedding day and I got swept up in the fantasy of it all. Beautiful white dress and the scent of flowers as I walked down the aisle to meet Ruslan in his sharp, well-tailored suit made for a Russian god. The shimmering diamond ring on my finger. The soft romantic words whispered into my ear as the priest began the ceremony. The sweet kiss that turned hot, filled with promises of a night of passion beyond my wildest dreams.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I know, someone is sliding the bottle of vodka and my glass out of my hand. For whatever reason, I just assumed it was Ruslan or Vlad returning to the office, but it wasn’t. The feel of this man’s presence was all wrong. His scent was different, too. When he finally spoke, my heart leapt in my chest, fear stabbing me like a knife.
“You shouldn’t drink alone?” the male voice said.
My eyes snapped open, but my liquor-addled brain was too fuzzy, my reactions too slow. I scanned the room as my head twisted around to locate the person speaking to me. He stood at the bar in the corner of the room opposite me. His back turned to me as I gasp for breath.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded in as harsh a voice as I could muster up.
“Calm down,” he responded coolly as he helped himself to my damn bottle of Vodka. Asshole. “I’m Gabriel.”
I watched as the man shifted around to face me, lifting the bottle of Russian Standard and giving it a slight shake. “You have good taste. We should get to know one another, I think.”
He sat my glass of vodka in front of me and took a seat across the desk from me, quietly sipping from his glass, eyeing me. I crossed my arms over my chest, careful not to shift the top and reveal my breasts to the man. He was a big man, similar in size to Ruslan, although a little shorter, but not by much, with dark jet black hair and dark brown eyes the color of chocolate. He looked like the serious sort. Dangerous. Commanding. When he smiled, it wasn’t the comforting kind of smile. There didn’t seem to be any emotion behind the action at all. It was unsettling.
“So you’re the killer assigned to me?” I asked, keeping my voice as even as I could, considering I didn’t have a damn clue who this man was. Gabriel. The killer. Murderer.
He laughed. Oddly enough, the laugh wasn’t cold or unfriendly. Nothing about this man made sense. But I could see the coldness in his eyes. The darkness buried deep inside him.
“Da. I am. And you are the Markow princess. Liliya, I believe. Yes?”
I sat up straight, dropping my arms on the desktop as I leaned forward, my gaze locking on his.
“I am. You have a fucking problem with that? You know what? Don’t bother answering because I don’t give a shit what you think. Just sit there and enjoy my damn vodka and keep your mouth shut until Ruslan gets here.”
I was probably pushing my luck talking to a killer like that, but the man rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t appreciate the tone of his voice or the way he looked at me, like I wasn’t worth his damn time.
“You have quite the mouth on you. Not sure what my brother sees in a mouthy little bitch like you. The kiska (
pussy
) must be like a drug.”
“How dare you? You don’t know a damn thing about me. I’m… wait… brother?”
“Da.”
“Great. Just great,” I huffed in frustration. This is the exact kind of guy I didn’t want as
I nodded and sipped my drink. Left alone in the expanse of the office, I grabbed the near-empty bottle of vodka and walked around the room, taking everything in. When I made it to the desk, I plopped down in the leather chair, kicked my heeled feet up on the desk, and waited. The heat from the vodka radiated throughout my body, warming my skin.
I closed my eyes and let my mind wander over everything that had happened these last few months and tried not to think about the fight and what would come after. My mind took me to our wedding day and I got swept up in the fantasy of it all. Beautiful white dress and the scent of flowers as I walked down the aisle to meet Ruslan in his sharp, well-tailored suit made for a Russian god. The shimmering diamond ring on my finger. The soft romantic words whispered into my ear as the priest began the ceremony. The sweet kiss that turned hot, filled with promises of a night of passion beyond my wildest dreams.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I know, someone is sliding the bottle of vodka and my glass out of my hand. For whatever reason, I just assumed it was Ruslan or Vlad returning to the office, but it wasn’t. The feel of this man’s presence was all wrong. His scent was different, too. When he finally spoke, my heart leapt in my chest, fear stabbing me like a knife.
“You shouldn’t drink alone?” the male voice said.
My eyes snapped open, but my liquor-addled brain was too fuzzy, my reactions too slow. I scanned the room as my head twisted around to locate the person speaking to me. He stood at the bar in the corner of the room opposite me. His back turned to me as I gasp for breath.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded in as harsh a voice as I could muster up.
“Calm down,” he responded coolly as he helped himself to my damn bottle of Vodka. Asshole. “I’m Gabriel.”
I watched as the man shifted around to face me, lifting the bottle of Russian Standard and giving it a slight shake. “You have good taste. We should get to know one another, I think.”
He sat my glass of vodka in front of me and took a seat across the desk from me, quietly sipping from his glass, eyeing me. I crossed my arms over my chest, careful not to shift the top and reveal my breasts to the man. He was a big man, similar in size to Ruslan, although a little shorter, but not by much, with dark jet black hair and dark brown eyes the color of chocolate. He looked like the serious sort. Dangerous. Commanding. When he smiled, it wasn’t the comforting kind of smile. There didn’t seem to be any emotion behind the action at all. It was unsettling.
“So you’re the killer assigned to me?” I asked, keeping my voice as even as I could, considering I didn’t have a damn clue who this man was. Gabriel. The killer. Murderer.
He laughed. Oddly enough, the laugh wasn’t cold or unfriendly. Nothing about this man made sense. But I could see the coldness in his eyes. The darkness buried deep inside him.
“Da. I am. And you are the Markow princess. Liliya, I believe. Yes?”
I sat up straight, dropping my arms on the desktop as I leaned forward, my gaze locking on his.
“I am. You have a fucking problem with that? You know what? Don’t bother answering because I don’t give a shit what you think. Just sit there and enjoy my damn vodka and keep your mouth shut until Ruslan gets here.”
I was probably pushing my luck talking to a killer like that, but the man rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t appreciate the tone of his voice or the way he looked at me, like I wasn’t worth his damn time.
“You have quite the mouth on you. Not sure what my brother sees in a mouthy little bitch like you. The kiska (
pussy
) must be like a drug.”
“How dare you? You don’t know a damn thing about me. I’m… wait… brother?”
“Da.”
“Great. Just great,” I huffed in frustration. This is the exact kind of guy I didn’t want as
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