Page 7 of Kidnapped By the Mafia Boss
“Westminster,” comes the clipped reply.
“I need your help.” No small talk. “Or rather, help from the London Mafia Syndicate.”
“Go on,” the kingpin of Westminster replies, and I’m profoundly grateful he doesn’t call me on my conspicuous silence at London Mafia Syndicate meetings. I just wordlessly send in financial contributions towards whatever cat-up-a-tree they’re trying to fix this time. The last one was some gavno about road potholes.
To be fair, my drive through dark city streets is faster because of the smooth surface, so I guess they had a point.
“I need a man killed.” I glance over at Jenna, who is still out cold, and fury rises again with a protective instinct that’s now new and familiar all at once. I’ve never felt like this before Jenna. “Immediately.”
“Why? Who is he to you?” Westminster asks with absolute calm.
“He tried to rape my…” How to describe Jenna? My obsession? The victim of my stalking. My forbidden fruit.
“I’m always interested in fewer rapists in London,” Westminster says. “Didn’t realise you were overly concerned about such things though. Change of heart?”
“Could say that,” I reply tersely.
“Mmm.” Westminster sounds amused. “And how did you meet this change of heart? Does she have a name?”
“Jenna Erith. She works at the veterinarian in Rotherhithe that I took my dog, Karik, to.” I don’t know why I’m telling him this. But it feels good to speak her name. “This guy conned her and tried to take advantage during a date.”
My knuckles are white on the steering wheel. She went on a date.My girlwent on a date with another man. The jealous rage that tried to boil from my chest when I saw her smile at Howard repeats on me and I swallow down the magma. “I had to rescue her from a bathroom, and he drugged her.”
Jenna isn’t mine, I have to remind myself. But a little voice growls,yet.
“And you just happened to be there to help.” Westminster is definitely amused now. “Stalking, much?”
My only response is swearing colourfully in Russian. I’m not about to explain myself to anyone but my zayka. “Are you going to do this, or not?”
“Of course.” He sounds a bit offended by my implication. “Ask me one day why the London Mafia Syndicate was formed.”
“I thought it was something to do with a wife, and a mix-up about mathematics,” I sneer.
Westminster chuckles. “That too. Tell me about this prick you want dealt with.”
I give him all the details I have, and unlike Arkadi, he’s unfazed.
“We’ll find him. Look after your girl.”
“I will.” I glance across at Jenna. It’s a promise, not to Westminster, but toher.
One more call, this time to my utterly confused housekeeper whom I’ve woken up. She obviously thinks my request is insane, but is sensible enough to know not to say so.
The rest of the drive is tense and quiet. I try to keep my gaze on the road, but I check Jenna more than makes sense. She doesn’t regain consciousness, but seems peaceful, her green eyes closed and her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders and the leather seat.
I’ve always enjoyed the approach to my Kent country house, which winds through the estate’s woodlands, dense on each side. They’re tranquil in a way you can’t achieve in London, and Rotherhithe is a thriving area of industry and modernity in stark contrast to my home here that is hundreds of years old, and the forest feels even older.
Today, I’d burn it all to the ground to have Jenna safe one minute sooner.
“Matvey,” I bark as I throw the car door open after breaking hard in front of the mansion house.
“Boss.” The doctor clearly wants to live, since he’s ready at the bottom of the cream stone steps that lead up to the main entrance.
I’m around the car in a second, then looking down at Jenna’s unconscious body, my heart in my throat.
“Is she alright?” I grit out.
Matvey looks over my shoulder at Jenna, and instinctively I want to shield her.
