Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

For some reason, I had to ask. “Do you think Misha is gay?”

“I’ve never seen him with a man, but there’s been pondering…mainly from Valentina, which is at the core of why they don’t get along. She’s picked at him about it. Who knows? They love to annoy each other, but I know there’s something more to their arguing.”

“Love?”

“Perhaps. They love each other, but not in a romantic way. No one could ever hurt Valentina without Misha getting in the middle of it. That is the same with Valentina. She would kill for him. But there’s also a hate between them.”

“And you don’t know why?”

“Never have figured it out.”

Minutes passed. Our plates emptied. Since we owned the restaurant for the evening, Kaz took me out on the balcony to have dessert. Out there, the sky had grown darker. The temperature had lowered. I shivered but focused instead on the few stars shining high above.

“You’re cold. We should move back inside.”

“I’m fine.” I fixed my stare on a flashing light somewhere far across the Parisian horizon. “This city is so beautiful.”

“Prettier than Moscow?”

“No, but gorgeous in different ways. Moscow reminds me of magic with those brightly colored roofs shaped like flames. Paris reminds me of art and elegance.”

“But, you’re still cold.” Kazimir held my hands. The heat from his large ones began to warm mine. “Let’s go. I want to take you to my place. I have a small suite here I enjoy visiting.”

Small? I doubt you have a small anything.

“Why are you rolling your eyes?” he asked.

“Make sure your suite is not too small. I’m a lady. I have standards. You may not get these panties, if it’s too small.”

He chuckled. “Emily, I will fuck you whether the place is small or not.”

“Oh really?”

He pulled me into him and pressed his hard erection against my stomach.

Jesus. Is he taking Viagra or something? If I’m not pregnant, I damn sure will be by the end of the month. Am I? Fuck. Could I be a mother? Damn it. I need to think—

“Stop stressing,” he whispered.

“Stop reading my mind.”

“No.” He consumed my mouth. “When we get to my place, I want you down on your pretty hands and knees.”

I leaned away from his lips and tossed him a wicked grin. “I don’t bow for anyone.”

He growled, “You’ll bow for me.”

Those words with that tone did delightful things to my pussy.

Unfortunately, we didn’t exit Le Cuisine Perdue for another two hours. Kazimir hadn’t appreciated my challenging tone, so he showed me what I would do and how I would do it.

And, in that restaurant, I was down on my hands and knees.

Every wet, hard thrust felt so good. I knew without a doubt that we really did need a vacation. It was time to let go of the stress.

There’s nothing to worry about.

Chapter 11

Kazimir

I brought Emily to my suite in the Satin Butterfly. I’d never taken another woman there. And, with Emily, there would be no memories of other women lingering among the walls or stinking up the carpet. Everything had to be new, when it came to her.

The Satin Butterfly was a posh boutique hotel. The perfect place for a lion to take his lover and mate.

I grinned at the silly thought.

Nestled in a quiet location, the Satin Butterfly was mid way between Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré and Montaigne. And it was a short walk to Champs-Elysees, where the heart of Paris beat.

That night, we sipped champagne on the suite’s balcony, and I showed Emily the Grand Palais as well as that great metal erection pointing the sky—the Eiffel Tower.

Emily was right to joke about my small comment. My suite was the opposite, more a tiny mansion than anything else. The hotel catered to the uber wealthy.

Chandeliers bathed the suite’s vast spaces in light. The furniture reflected the reason for the price tag—rare woods and muted rich fabrics, marble fireplaces everywhere. More suites than rooms, and each suite had its own wine cellar stocked with the best. There was a library for Emily to read as much as she liked as well as a smoking lounge for me to pop out a cigar in the evening.

How many days will we stay? Perhaps a week, if I’m lucky and my mouse is patient.

That night, as Emily fell asleep naked in my arms, I imagined making love to her in the hotel’s inner courtyard. Lush greenery and chiseled trees bordered the paths. I’d already scheduled several spa appointments for her. She’d earned a massage and some pampering.

We’ll finally get to relax.

It was my last thought as I fell asleep.

Early in the morning, my phone woke me up. Emily still slept safely in my arms.

The phone rang again.

It better be important.

I gently moved her, grabbed my phone, and walked out onto the balcony. Two of my guards stood outside, armed and ready to break any intruder’s neck. They didn’t leave the area, but they gave me room for privacy as they edged closer to the railing.