Promised to the Killer: A Dark Mafia Romance

But I can’t go anywhere without being rude, and I know Maxim needs his father’s approval if we’re going to get out of this mess. If his father learns that I’m supposed to marry Maxim before we manage to convince him that it’s a good idea, or if my father decides that we acted in bad faith and causes trouble with the business arrangement Maxim’s father is trying to establish, then everything will come crashing down on our heads.

There are too many balls flying in the air, and I don’t know how to juggle them.

“Yes, Mr. Novalov?” I clasp my hands in front of me and straighten my shoulders. I do my best to act like the perfect mafia daughter should.

His lips quirk. “Please, call me Damir.” He gestures for me to approach. I walk a few steps closer, and try to regulate my breathing. I’m so nervous my fingertips tingle and buzz. “Were you looking for anything in particular?”

“I saw War and Peace yesterday. I thought I might try it.”

He nods to himself. “Tolstoy is a good choice. Are you a reader?”

“A little bit. Mostly popular novels.”

“Popular novels are still novels. Perhaps while you are staying in the Kremlin, I can recommend some books.”

Is this a family full of psychopathic mafia killers that also happen to like reading?

“I would appreciate that.” I bow my head and want to scream. What is this man doing? Are we really just having a polite conversation about literature?

“Very good.” I turn to go, assuming the conversation is over, but he clears his throat. “I have a question for you, Siena.”

“Yes, sir, ah, Damir?”

He smiles at my slip-up. “Does your father know about your situation with my son?”

I nod once. I don’t want to lie to him, but I also can’t tell the full truth. I choose something in the middle. “He’s aware and thinking about your business association.”

His smile fades. “He’s allowing his daughter to be my son’s mistress for business reasons?”

“I wouldn’t put it in such crude terms.”

“Then what is this arrangement?”

I hesitate, my cheeks turning red. “I’m Maxim’s mistress.” I squirm, the awkwardness of this conversation driving me insane. I don’t know how else to explain it without showing my hand.

Damir nods to himself and takes off his glasses. His eyes are piercing and I wish he’d keep them on.

“All men in the bratva are allowed a mistress. Even married men, though they must be discreet. It is not so unusual. But my son has never shown interest in taking a woman as his own, and so I find this very sudden and rather troubling.”

“I don’t mean to cause any alarm,” I say, bowing my head lower. I wish I could sink into the floor and disappear. If a comet slammed into Earth and destroyed Dallas in a flash of smoke and fire right this instant, I wouldn’t be upset about it.

“I’m sure you don’t.” His tone suggests he doesn’t believe me, and I can’t blame him. “You’re not some commoner Maxim found on the street. You come from a true Familia. It’s not large, and it’s not powerful, but it’s connected enough that I wish to do business with your father. And now here you are, living under my roof.”

“The heart works in mysterious ways.” I want to kick myself in the face. What am I saying? Am I seriously quoting platitudes to the Pakhan of the Novalov bratva? I think I’ve lost my mind. I’m sweating, and trembling, and all I want to do is spontaneously combust. Frankly, dipping my hand in boiling water sounds more fun than this.

“I suppose it does,” he says, not sounding convinced. “I will tell you this once and only once. Anyone that moves against my family will be dealt with harshly. Man or woman. I don’t fully understand why my son brought you here, but he has earned some leeway in his personal life.” Damir shuts the book in his lap with a loud snap and I jump and release a little humiliating yelp. His lips curl into a sneer as he slips his glasses into his breast pocket. “But I will not let the daughter of a second-rate mafia family get in the way of my bratva. Am I clear?”

“Absolutely, yes, sir,” I say, nodding. He scares me shitless. The polar opposite of Maxim’s mother. She was all warmth and kindness, and this man is a cold-blooded iceberg.

“Good. You’re dismissed. I’ll send over that reading list along with the titles soon. I expect you to enjoy them.”

I turn and get the hell out of there. I will absolutely enjoy whatever books that monster gives me just to make sure he doesn’t knife me in the gut for not reading. I can’t walk fast enough back to the room. I slam the door and lock it, breathing hard, drenched in sweat. I grab the phone from the coffee table and text Maxim.