Page 50 of Savage Bratva King

She steps closer. “Sure, you do. You can’t fool me, printzessa. I see it in your eyes. You thought that it meant something to him, that he finds you desirable, that he wants you as much as you want him.”

I shake my head, try to keep the tears from welling in my eyes because that will give her exactly what she wants. “That’s where you’re wrong. I know exactly what he is. Why would I want him?”

Because he makes me feel special. Because he makes me feel like I’ve never felt before. Because when he looks at me, my insides quiver, and all I can think about is his cock filling me up. All of the above.

“Fine.” She shrugs. “Have it your way. You won’t need me to help you escape then, will you?”

18

LEONID

“Leonid, are you listening to me?”

I’ve been listening to Victoria for the past thirty minutes, without paying attention, and my sister doesn’t cope well with being ignored. It’s the reason why she handles the legal side of the family business—she’s the one with the eye for detail, Andrej is the strategist, and I get the job done.

“The warehouse?” Her brown eyes are little more than slits in her beautifully chiseled features.

“Did the cops find anything to pin on us?” I peer at her from across the walnut desk in my office. Even to me, my voice sounds distant.

“You really need to ask?” Victoria places her pen down on the notepad in front of her, measuring its distance from the edges as if her life depends on it being equal. “Is there any point in me being here if you’re not going to be present?”

I sit forward in my seat. I recognize that I’m about five seconds away from her storming out of here and refusing to come back until I resolve the matter of the prisoner in my home.

“No, I don’t need to ask. Yes, there’s every point in you being here. And, yes, I am present.”

“Finally.” She puffs up her cheeks and releases a steady breath. “Would you care to enlighten us? I mean, we’re only family. It’s starting to feel like you think you can do this alone.”

She shoots a glance at Andrej, who leans back in his seat and links his fingers behind his head. “Suits me. I’ll take that vacation to Barbados that I’ve been putting off since forever.”

The truth is, my siblings are as much a part of the family business as I am, but I’ve spent my life carrying the burden alone, and it’s a tough shell to crack. Family always comes first: the golden mantra. Which means that, as the eldest son, it is my duty to protect them. They could sit here and scream until they’re hoarse that I’m not responsible for them, but it won’t alter the way I feel. The responsibility is all mine, just as our father intended.

“I’ve never believed that I can do this alone, Victoria.” The lies spill from my tongue like water. “We all know that I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

I was four years old when a mafia rival of our father invaded our family home. It was nighttime. Everyone was asleep, apart from Victoria, who has always survived on three or four hours sleep, even as a child. My six-year-old sister was in her room with the curtains open, studying the sky with the telescope that our parents had recently bought her. She wanted to go to the moon. She wanted to be an astronaut, and visit all the planets in our solar system, and bring back souvenirs from each to pin to the ceiling of her bedroom the way other people brought back fridge magnets from vacation.

Catching a glimpse of movement in the corner of her eye, she lowered the telescope to the extensive grounds and realized that the shadows were moving. But what didn’t make sense to her was that there were no guards.

At that age, she didn’t understand that moles could be people who don’t have your best interests at heart. We knew that we never went anywhere without protection. But when armed guards are an intrinsic part of your life, they almost become invisible like the sub-audible hum of the refrigerator or the artwork on the wall or the way the laundry hamper gets emptied and clean clothes reappear in your closet.

But she understood the crushing silence and the missing security lights outside the house. So, she set in motion the process that our mother had instilled in us from the moment we were old enough to walk and talk: If something feels wrong, hide.

She grabbed a flashlight from the desk in her room, tiptoed along the corridor to my bedroom, and woke me up. Andrej wasn’t yet born, so she only had to protect one little brother. Pressing a pale finger to her lips, she whispered, “We’re going to play hide and seek, Leo.” She gripped my hand tightly, led me outside to the unlit hallway, locked my door behind us, and pocketed the key.

Then, we ran back to her room as quickly as we could. We had barely closed the door when we heard a gunshot from somewhere in the house. I still remember the way my heart was hammering inside my chest, but Victoria … she was so cool and calm as she opened the back of her doll’s house wide and made me climb inside with a warning not to make a sound. She messed up her bed and hid inside her closet where I could see her through the crack in the door, a smile on her face so that I wouldn’t be scared.

The bad men, finding my bedroom door locked, used force to open it, alerting our father to their presence. They never made it to Victoria’s room.

It wasn’t until many years later that I understood how my sister’s bravery and quick thinking had saved my life. As always, Victoria accepted the praise with quiet humility. I have often wondered if she understood how her life would be affected if she were the only child of a mafia boss and saved me then to spare her own future.

I wouldn’t blame her if she had.

“Don’t try to deflect the question, Leo.” She finally releases the pen, satisfied that it is precisely where it needs to be. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on that you’re not already aware of.”

Her eyes drift across the table to our brother and back again. “You know the police commissioner didn’t just turn up at the warehouse on a whim because it’s Wednesday, right, or because he’s trying to manipulate the figures to earn himself a big fat bonus.”

I smile. We all know that the police commissioner has enough handouts from the mafia families to make his legitimate bonus look like a child’s monthly allowance.

---