Reckless Heir (Underworld Kings)

Multi-millionaire heirs to the Petrov empire at only twenty nine and twenty eight, Dmitry and Nikolai Petrov, who have suspected ties to organized crime, have ventured into a new enterprise and renovated the Clandestine building on Fortworth Street in Desolation. It’s predicted to be a top tier nightclub, and set to transform Desolation from the ground up.

I continued reading, clicking on another link that showed Nikolai and who I recognized as his older brother Dmitry. They were standing in front of a lavish door, Sdat'sya written above the wrought iron and wooden massive structure and giving it an almost ominous appearance.

I briefly looked at Dmitry, his light blue eyes bright yet they were also calculating. He’d seen a lot in his twenty-nine years.

I looked back at Nikolai then, feeling this strange tightness in my gut at the fact I’d be marrying him in the near future. Very near future if my father had his way.

His short dark hair was haphazardly strewn across his head, as if he ran his hands through it and didn’t care how it looked. I felt like he probably didn’t care about a lot of things. Like humanity. He had the same shade of blue eyes as Dmitry, a smirk on his face as he stared at the camera, as if he dared whoever was standing in front of them to take the picture.

My heart started racing, my throat tight and my mouth dry the longer I stared at him. I’d never spoken to him, never seen him in person, yet I felt this intense apprehension just from a picture alone. In fact, this was the first time I’d seen him in any capacity. I shouldn’t find a man like him attractive, but I couldn’t help the fact I did.

How would I feel once I was in the same room with him… alone with him?

It was enough to have fear striking me hard and fast.

I opened another article, getting pulled deeper and deeper into any and all things I could find on one of the Petrov Bratva heirs.

He had a younger sister--my age--named Tatiana. And strangely enough I couldn't find any clear images of her, as if she were hidden away from the public eye.

The last article I clicked on had my heart picking up an irregular beat as I read about Nikolai having a traffic incident where it’s rumored he tore the finger and toenails off a man for cutting him off in traffic.

A knock on my bedroom door startled me and I slammed the laptop closed and pushed it under my pillow just as the door opened and my mother stepped inside.

I could see by the exasperated expression on her face and the way she was moving a little too quickly that she was nervous about whatever had brought her into my room.

“Is everything okay, mamma?” She immediately walked toward my closet without responding, and started rifling through the dresses that were hung up. I heard her mutter under her breath, “this won’t do”.

I stood and started twisting my hands together, but with each passing second I was growing more anxious about what was going on.

“Mamma?” She stopped as if my voice had pierced through the muddled fog of her thoughts. She turned to face me and I felt my brows lower as I looked into her eyes. “What’s going on? Is Claudia okay? Gio--”

She waved her hand again, cutting me off, as if brushing my concern away. “No, your brother and sister are fine. Everything’s fine. It’s just the plans have… changed a little.”

I felt confusion fill me coupled with a good dose of apprehension. “Changed how?” As if my life wasn’t already a mess.

“Your father just got off the phone with the Petrov’s.”

My heart sank into my belly and I felt a rolling tide of nausea settle into me. The only thing worse than being tied to a man I didn’t love and had never met a single day in my life, was if he called off the engagement. It would bring shame upon my father, on our whole entire family. I’d be seen as tainted, worthless… not good enough to even be sold off by my family.

And I would be the sole reason for it all, even if I’d had nothing to do with it, even if I couldn’t have offended anyone aside from just simply breathing.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “What does that mean?”

I could see the tension around her eyes. “Your father got you a personal guard until the wedding, and then… she glanced around and looked at my closet once more. “And plans have moved up.”

My pulse raced and I shifted on my feet. I wasn’t surprised about the guard. We’d always had soldiers following us, men watching out for the Bianchi family whenever we left the house given who my father was. Marco Bianchi had many enemies, people who’d kill us to get to him.

But I’d never had a personal one myself. So that meant either there were threats that I’d never been privy to knowing that were too close to us, or maybe my father--or my future husband--was afraid something would happen to me… or that I’d run.

Not that the latter wasn’t something that would ever happen. I was too “watched”, and truthfully, too afraid to even try leaving. I had no money, nothing of value. What was I supposed to do, live under a bridge, beg for change just so I could eat? I’d never survive, not with men out there who’d use and abuse me as much as the men in the mafia world would.

“What do you mean things have moved up?” I normally didn’t press, but the words spilled out of me before I could stop them.

She turned back around without answering me and started pushing hangers aside, inspecting each dress. “This won’t do. Not at all.” She faced me once more. “We need to go dress shopping tomorrow.” She nodded. “And we’ll have lunch with Maria and her daughter. Keep up appearances.” She sounded like she was speaking to herself.

With each passing second I was getting increasingly antsy, a lump forming in my throat as I thought about all the possible things that could go wrong… even more than they were.

“Have things been canceled?” I whispered that last word, holding onto hope, but also feeling a spike of fear. I didn’t want this arranged marriage, but at the same time if Nikolai Petrov called off the wedding for whatever reason, I would be the one who suffered for it. The brunt of my father’s wrath landing on my shoulder” because I wasn’t “good enough.”