Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

I focused on slow breaths.

“Luka is gone. I considered Misha, but I’ve been calling him for the last days and can’t get in touch with him. Besides, my relationship with Misha is sensitive and important to me. It would be better if we didn’t mix too much business together. He’s difficult and has a problem with privacy.” He placed his phone back in his pocket. “Do you have any idea what Maxwell is doing for Misha?”

“No.”

“I’m trying to send for them both soon.”

“Thank you. I want Maxwell here immediately.”

“Then, I’ll make sure he’s here.”

“Thank you so much.” I was glad he didn’t ask me any further questions on Maxwell.

I didn’t know what I was thinking either, just that I couldn’t have Maxwell far away from me for too long. I was sure Valentina had kicked him out temporarily. Whatever the problem, it would be solved. Maxwell was an easygoing soul and Valentina was a nice person. I liked her. She was Kaz’s sister. But Maxwell had to be near me. How else could I protect him? How else could I make sure he remained out of harm and not meeting his demise too soon like Xavier and Kennedy?

I’ve lost many people. Shit. I’ve lost Harlem. I won’t lose Maxwell.

If he started having feelings for Valentina, that would be great. I would just need to get Valentina to stick with us somehow.

I’ll worry about that later.

“You’re plotting,” Kaz said.

“I’m—”

“Plotting something.”

I need to make sure I can protect you. Protect us.

I glanced out the window at the protestors. The police had finally separated enough groups so we could get onto the highway. “What’s the Kremlin?”

“Kremlin means ‘a fortress inside a city.’” He slipped his hand down my arm. “In America, you say White House, and the White House is the living body that’s separate from the human puppet playing as president.”

I smirked. “Well, that’s one definition of the White House.”

“Basically, the White House is not just a building.” He laughed. “That’s what the Kremlin is. It’s not just the president or where he works. Sometimes he’s not included in what the Kremlin does. It is many general secretaries, premiers, ministers, commissars, and more. Most corrupt.”

“This is interesting.”

“Good.” He kissed me. “That’s your first Kremlinology lesson for today.”

I licked my lips, loving the taste of him on my mouth. “So when protestors are asking Smirnov to help them, they’re asking the president to fight the mean government? Smirnov vs. the Kremlin.?”

“Yes.”

“Even though he runs it?”

“Of course. But, if something is wrong, it will not be considered Smirnov’s mistake. It’s the Kremlin’s. And when things go well, then Smirnov is the savior.”

“How much control does Smirnov have over Russia?”

“As much as any president would, which is not much at all.” Kazimir moved his arm and kissed me on my cheek. “These protests are inspiring. I think I’ll give you a course on how to toy with a president.”

I cleared my throat. “Maybe we can start off small…like messing with a mayor.”

He smiled. “We’ll talk Russian politics for later.”

I was happy for that. The very idea of fucking with a president didn’t give me warm fuzzies in my stomach. I already had a psycho cutting off monkey heads.

Forget about it.

I leaned against him, snuggling deeper into his embrace. His heartbeat soothed and comforted me in a way I could only describe as primal.

“Now it’s time to focus on our date.” Kazimir kissed me. “We’ve never officially had one.”

“You’ve taken me many places.”

The limo came to a stop, giving me scant opportunity to compose myself. Planes and flight crews surrounded us. I raised my eyebrows. Apparently, the limo had pulled into the airport.

“Wait.” I sat up, took in the area, and then turned to him. “We’re flying?”

“Da. My favorite French spot is in Paris. Of course.”

“Of course.” I swallowed.

I figured we would drive to a nice place in downtown Moscow. At the most, we would’ve gone a few minutes outside the city. Instead, Kazimir had us driven to his plane—which was twice the size of Valentina’s—and that night, we would fly to Paris.

Just for dinner.

“What happened to the mouse, after she was trapped?”

“The lion ruined her for anyone else.”

Kazimir knew exactly what he was doing. Maxwell had been right. Nothing Kazimir did would be a simple gesture. He wanted me to know no one else could compete, that no one else could stand next to him and look like a challenge.

Although he’d cut those ribbons away days ago, he’d bound me to him. And I was fine, happy to be caged, relishing in the way he fucked me within the shadows of the bars. But there was a problem, and it had nothing to do with Kazimir, my sexy lion. The ruler of the world and my heart.

Something rose inside me as I sat in the limo and stared at the plane. Dark anxiety. Stress for the future. Worry about more enemies hiding in shadows. It was dread. Darkness. It gripped my brain and spun in my head like a tornado, messing with my moment to stop and smell the roses.