Ruthless Mafia King: A Dark Bratva Arranged Marriage Romance
Ruthless Mafia King: Chapter 24

“Are you sure that’s a good idea, Nik?” Ivan asks me for the umpteenth time.

“I’m sure,” I confirm. “I don’t want you in the house tonight. Keep the men out to hold the perimeter.”

“What about Olga?” he asks.

“As soon as she’s done preparing dinner, she’s off,” I reply. “She’s going to spend the night at her sister’s.”

“I see you’ve thought of everything,” Ivan muses. “Well, then, if you’re sure, I’ll go out to speak with the men, and then I’ll be on my way too.”

He salutes me and leaves my home office. I wait another five minutes before I get up to go get Katarina.

I click the latch on the painting and make sure to close it behind me as I slip down the secret tunnel. My heart thrashes, excitement rushing through my veins. I don’t dare hope that tonight will be anything like yesterday, but I can’t help myself.

I’ll be the only man to have her. Not just her body, but her soul too.

She looks up from her book as I step into the room. There’s no need for her to pretend she doesn’t enjoy them.

“Serdtse,” I greet, pausing at the entrance. “How’s the book?”

She lifts a brow. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t mind being ravished by Mr. Knightly.”

“A high bar. I can definitely try to reach it if you let me,” I reply with a wink. “Now get out of bed. We have a date.”

“A date?” she exclaims, and glances behind me. “Where’s the food?”

“There’ll be plenty of it once we get where we’re going. Now hurry up before it gets cold. Although, if you prefer to stay in bed, I’m down for that too.” I can tell I caught her off guard, and that makes my ego swell.

“Have you forgotten that it takes two bottles of wine for you to become palatable?” she quips, and I chuckle.

“Come on, serdtse,” I say, as I offer her my hand. “We’re eating in the dining room tonight.”

“The dining room?” she echoes, more surprised than confused. “Is this supposed to be some sort of a joke? Aren’t you worried I’m going to try to make a run for it?”

“Not really,” I reply with a nonchalant shrug. “I’m way faster and bigger. My men are all around. You’d be foolish to even try. Besides, you had your chance last night, and you didn’t take it. How about you accept this gesture?”

“You’ve always said I’m smarter than you think. So, start showing me how smart you think I am. What’s stopping me from spitting on your food when you turn your back?”

I smile. “Once we’re both tired of being stubborn, you’ll understand that all I want is to make you happy. But until you’ve realized that, you might want to reconsider how often you spit in my food. I’m able to do many more things than just that. Like withholding sex.”

Katarina’s nostrils flare. At this moment, I swear I can see a blaze in her eyes, smoldering as if she wants to light my ass on fire. The fact that she can’t is slowly getting to her, driving her crazy.

She likes our dynamic.

Loves it, even.

She’ll get used to being my queen.

“We’ll see about that,” she says, and glares at me. “If you want this date to happen, you better behave.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” I promise, and hold my hand closer to her. “Come on, serdtse.”

She narrows her eyes, examining me, and decides I’m worth taking a chance on. Katarina slips her hand into mine, a jolt passing through my fingers.

I guide her down the tunnel, my hand never leaving hers. With my other one, I open the painting, allowing her to climb out first. She tries to retrieve her hand, but I pull her back.

“I’m not done with you just yet,” I murmur into her ear, and feel her shiver. I lead her through the hallway until we reach the dining room. I’ve lit the space with candles, which makes the china and cutlery sparkle in the dim light.

“Gorgeous,” Katarina whispers, glancing all around and taking it in. “Like everything else.”

“Like you,” I say, and guide her to her seat, pulling out the chair for her. “Let’s eat.”

She scowls. “Are you sure you should be giving me orders on this date you’re hosting?”

I chuckle. “I guess you’re right. It’s hard to switch from being a boss to . . . a fiancé.”

“You’re the boss of my prison, not my fiancé.”

“Not of that hot mouth of yours, that’s for sure. But I’ll get you there.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Katarina trails off, shifting on her seat and looking anywhere but at me.

“When we’re done eating, I’ll show you around the house,” I promise.

She narrows her eyes at me, yet scoops up her fork and knife to dig in. Once she starts, she can’t stop.

“This is delicious,” she murmurs, almost close to drooling. “Even more delicious than the food in the cell.”

“I’m happy to please you. How are you holding up in there?”

Surprised, she lifts her gaze to meet mine. “I’m getting kind of used to the weird setup.”

“I hope it won’t last much longer,” I tell her. It’s supposed to sound consoling, yet there’s a hint of guilt in my tone.

“It’s weird to hear something like that from you,” she says, and stuffs another spoonful into her mouth.

I rub my thumb against my lip in thought. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not in this case,” Katarina admits. “I’m intrigued.”

I pour more wine into her glass and push it closer to her. I don’t want Katarina to think much. I want her to believe me, and because she would get suspicious if I started acting gentler, I offer her an idea.

“Maybe if you ask me something more personal and to the point, you’ll get to know me better.”

“Ask you a question?”

I nod. “We should be getting to know each other.”

She thinks about it, even going as far as finishing her glass of wine and pouring some more from the bottle.

“What did your father do for a living?”

“He worked on an oil rig,” I reply. “Moved us to New York when my mother was pregnant with me. Said the winters were too harsh for family life.”

“Why not return to Russia and continue working in the oil fields? And why didn’t he get a new job in the States?”

“You’re curious, aren’t you?” I ask with a smile.

“You did tell me to get to know you better,” she replies. “Though it sounds as if you’ve made up your own version of reality to shield yourself.”

“I’ve already given you the real explanation.”

“What do you mean the real one?”

“My father worked on an oil rig in Russia. When we moved to the States, he got mixed up with the Bratva. That was how he made his living. I used his money to create Volkov Enterprises.”

Katarina nods. “What happened to him?”

“Father? He died. Soon after Katya was born.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” I retort.

“Because you killed him?” she asks, an amused grin appearing on her face.

“Because I think he deserved what he got,” I say. “Can we change the topic now?”

“Is Katya your sister?” she asks, and I nod. “Where is she now?”

“In Russia,” I reply. “She’s a lawyer in Moscow.”

“And your mother?”

“Dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too,” I say, grabbing my glass of wine. “Can you talk about yourself for a bit?”

“Like what?” she asks.

“Tell me about your job,” I suggest. “I want to know everything.”

Her face transforms as she begins to tell me how she spends her nights looking for talented artists to sign to the record label. Her work is all about music, partying, dancing, and making connections. It sounds like she really enjoys it.

“Did you ever want to have your own record label?” I ask.

“Of course,” Katarina replies. “Papa wouldn’t go for it though. I’ve asked him for startup money more than once.”

“I’ll give it to you,” I suggest, and her eyes widen in surprise.

“That’s sweet, but why would you do that?”

“Because I can.” I shrug. “My money is your money, and as long as you confirm it with me, you can use it for whatever you wish.”

“What a terrible businessman you are, letting others control your funds.”

“But a good husband.” I wave her off, grinning.

She’s silent for a second. “I suppose that’s a nice thought for a hypothetical scenario.”

“There’s nothing hypothetical about our upcoming marriage,” I remind her.

“We’re out of wine,” she comments, ignoring my words.

I chuckle. “I guess it’s time to show you the house. We can start with the wine cellar.”