Promised to the Killer: A Dark Mafia Romance

“Please, a moment,” she says.

“Of course, miss, yes, naturally.” He bows and storms off, mumbling and cursing to himself in Russian as he disappears into the back.

If I’d known it was that easy to get rid of him, I would’ve just done that.

Mother watches me. All her kind charm drains away, and what’s left behind is the scheming and clever wife of a bratva Pakhan. She loves me—I’m sure she does—but she’s also survived in this world longer than I have. She knows the rules, and she understands what I’m saying to her.

I misled Father. I made a deal with another mafia family without his consent. And I’m asking her to help me smooth all that over.

It’s a risk. It’s a massive fucking risk, and I don’t know if she’ll do it. If she doesn’t agree, this whole situation can turn sour instantly, and I don’t know if I’ll survive what comes next.

I don’t know if Siena will survive either.

But I wouldn’t do this if I weren’t sure it was for the best. And if it comes down to a fight, I’ll make sure Siena walks away—even if I don’t.

“What were you thinking?” Mother asks, chiding and sharp. It’s not an accusation. She sounds like she really wants to know.

“It was the only way to help her. I couldn’t think of a better solution at the time.”

“Marriage.” She shakes her head. “To the daughter of Don Bastone? Your father will be livid, Maxim. You know that.”

“I know. There’s a reason I’m here talking to you and not him.”

She lets out a bitter laugh. “Yes, because I don’t have the authority to kill you on the spot.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Not that I would. But you know your father.”

“Yes, I know him very well.” I shift in my seat again. I can’t seem to sit still. I’m not sure if it’s the caffeine from the tea or just my nerves. “I’m here to ask for your blessing and your help. Father listens to you.”

“Not as much as you think.” Her voice drops and she gives me a hard look. “Really, Maxim. I like Siena. We all do. But marriage?”

“It’s the only way. Don Bastone gave me six weeks to make it happen, and we’ve already spent four. I’m running out of time.”

She sighs heavily and smooths her dress. She shakes her head and mutters in Russian—stupid fool men making stupid fool decisions—and gives me a sharp look.

“Do you want to marry her out of obligation, or do you want to marry her for her?”

I open my mouth and close it again.

That’s the question, isn’t it?

Three weeks ago, I would’ve said obligation and obligation alone. Siena is attractive, but she’s only a Bastone. I couldn’t possibly devote my life to her.

Now though?

It’s about much more than our parents. If they had nothing to do with this situation, I would still want her. There’s no doubt in my mind. She’s my fiancée. She’s my future.

“I want this, Mother.”

She nods, resigning herself. “Good. I wouldn’t want Siena to get hurt. I’ll help you. I love you, Maxim. Your father won’t take this well, but I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” I grin huge and she smiles back, shaking her head.

“Gods, when did you grow up? I remember when you were a child and you used to run around the room with your pants off screaming ‘nakey boy, nakey boy,’ like you were so proud of showing off your—”

“Mother,” I say, shaking my head.

She laughs lightly. “But here you are, talking about marriage. Time moves so fast, my son. Don’t forget that. Cherish your wife while you have her close. Cherish all that you have.”

“I will.”

“Good. Now, come give your mother a kiss on the cheek.”

I stand and stoop. I kiss her cheek, but she catches my wrist and holds me there.

“Don’t get yourself killed, Maxim,” she says quietly.

I pull back and nod. “Give me two days. I need to get a ring before I can propose.”

“Good boy. Make sure you get her a nice one. She deserves it.”

“I’ll get the best I can afford.”

“Fortunately for her, that’s very good indeed.”

I laugh and sit back down. We finish our tea, but the whole time I’m thinking of Siena—her mouth, her laughter, her body pressed against mine.

And my ring on her finger.

Chapter 22

Maxim

While Siena’s in the shower, I sit on the bed and open the small black box draped in plush velvet.

I don’t know a damn thing about marriage and weddings and engagements. I always assumed I’d get married at the end of a loaded gun—which is sort of happening here, except I actually want this. I brought Emiliya with me to pick something out and made her swear on her life not to tell. (“I’m not stupid, Maxim, I know Father’s going to shoot you in the face for this, and anyway I wouldn’t ruin the surprise.”) Somehow, we landed on the perfect ring. Big diamond, lots of little diamonds, some gold—god, I don’t know what to call any of this stuff—and it cost a small fortune.