Page 14 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

“This is my club,” I murmur, the lie sour on my tongue.

Raffe guides me deeper, through the bones of my past—rooms that still reek of sex, secrets, and old power. Rooms where I once whispered commands, where men begged and bled beneath chandeliers.

The hallway to the office feels longer than I remember. More dangerous.

Because it isn’t my father’s office anymore.

It’s his.

Vasiliy’s scent hits before the door opens—something dark, expensive, and edged like a blade.

Raffe knocks twice. A voice growls, “Come in.”

And then he’s there.

Vasiliy rises with predatory grace, lethal calm and simmering threat. He’s broader than I remember, colder than before, and somehow more beautiful in that way monsters sometimes are—fascinating in their ability to destroy.

Those gray eyes slice through me.

“Galina,” he says, voice curling like smoke. “To what do I owe this…intrusion?”

I lift my chin, armor clinking into place. “I hear you’re hiring.”

My voice doesn’t waver. Not once. But inside, my pulse is all gunfire and recklessness.

Because I know exactly what I’m doing.

I’m walking back into the lion’s den.

And this time, I’m not sure I want to make it out alive.

Chapter 5

Terms and Conditions

Vasiliyi

The world collapses into a single point the moment Galina Olenko walks through my door, heels clicking a war rhythm straight into my bloodstream.

I hear you’re hiring.

The audacity.

Two weeks ago, I had her clawing my back open in a Moscow bathroom. Now she’s dressed for a boardroom and speaking like this is a goddamn interview?

The ledger creaks in my hands, the weight of missing money suddenly meaningless compared to the hurricane wrapped in a blouse standing in front of me. Looking at her feels like standing in front of a loaded gun—beautiful, cold, and aimed straight at my chest.

“Sit.” It comes out like a growl.

She obeys, crossing the room with unhurried steps before perching on the edge of the chair like a panther ready to strike. Her perfume hits me a second later—vanilla and sin—and I’m thrown backward in time to sheets soaked with sweat and betrayal.

I lean back in my chair, studying her like a threat I haven’t decided whether to watch or kill. Conservative black skirt. Whitesilk blouse. Hair pulled into a no-nonsense knot. It’s a costume. She’s playing nice. Pretending she’s harmless.

But I remember the wildcat who ripped my skin to ribbons, the devil who tried to destroy my sister’s life.

And now she wantsin?

Not a fucking chance.

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