Dirty Desires: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

But my favorite part was that there was a certain finesse to Misha. He talked with his hands, moving them back and forth. Dotting his index fingers in the air, when he ended his sentences. When he had a major point to declare, he raised them.

“No.” He moved those hands again. “For my family, it came. It went. Came again and then left. And now we’re on top for now, but there is always a storm that threatens the clouds off in the distance.”

“You’re so poetic.”

“You’re so beautiful.” He turned back to me and kissed my forehead. “What else do you remember from the article?”

“You also talked about how you always knew everyone’s Christmas presents, before they opened the packages. You said no one ever knew how you did it. You didn’t even tell the news reporter.”

“I like to keep a few secrets.”

“But how did you know?”

“You demand that I divulge my old tactics on Christmas?”

I grinned. “Yes.”

“Once things went well and I was given an old computer for Christmas, I learned the beautiful ways of the internet. It was like a new life. In my world and with my family, your body was power. Your might. Your strength was the most significant thing you could offer to the family. But in the digital universe, the brain conquered all. So the computer equaled power for me.”

“You’re still avoiding the question.” I widened my eyes. “How did you figure out all the presents without opening them?”

“I learned how to get into my father’s and aunt’s bank and credit card accounts. There, I read over their statements and put two and two together.”

“You hacked into their accounts to note their spending and see what they bought everyone for Christmas?”

“Yes.”

“So, you were a genius at a young age?”

“I would say I was a very shifty little guy. To my father’s dismay, I liked taking computers apart and putting them back together again. Sometimes the computers didn’t work after I did it. Other times, they operated even better. In my teen years, I loved playing with codes while others marveled at guns and girls.”

I pictured a young Misha, hovered over the computer and sneaking into his parents’ accounts. Pretty smart for a young kid, but damn shady and criminal too. For some reason, that made me impressed with him more.

Perfect people made me uncomfortable.

Misha slipped his hand down to my stomach. With his fingertips, he drew an intricate pattern around my navel. “What’s your plans after this ballet?”

“It matters on what happens after these performances.”

“If Akiva makes you prima ballerina?”

I arched my eyebrows. Most never referred to the company’s artistic director by his first name. Many called him the King. Others referred to him as the Bull.

Akiva Pestov had studied at Moscow Ballet School, then gone on to dance across the world with the Paris Opera Ballet. He’d performed over eighty roles in major classical works. Then, too early he dealt with a career ending injury. The rumor was that he’d tore a ligament in his knee during rehearsal. Many gossiped that he’d had a problem with drugs, showed up to practice intoxicated, and made a careless turn hurting himself.

Olesya told me that the stories were bullshit. She said that Akiva had gained the attention of a woman that was heavily connected to the Russian Mafia—the Bratva. The man had come for him after rehearsal and broke his knee.

Regardless, Akiva Pestov had a devastating knee injury that required three different operations. He had to relearn how to walk nine months later. He stopped dancing, went to the Institute of Choreography, and began teaching at Moscow Ballet Academy years later.

These past two years, the Mariinsky theater hired him as their artistic director. And while I had been inspired by his work and blessed to be under him. Pestov had never given one look at me. It wasn’t that he was mean. He just didn’t regard me, if he didn’t have to.

I gave Misha a weary look. “I doubt Akiva will make me prima ballerina.”

Misha frowned. “If he does not, will you leave St. Petersburg?”

“No. Not as long as the company continues to give me decent roles. I don’t need to be the star, but I do want to be on stage. And finally, they’re letting me on more.” I sighed. “But, I’d originally planned on leaving in the spring.”

His frown deepened. “Where would you go?”

“Probably back to North America. I’ve already received offers from the Toronto International Ballet Theater and the San Francisco Ballet Company.”

“Hmmm.”

“What do you think?”

“I think that Mariinsky theater will do everything in its power to keep you here.” Misha leaned closer. His warm breath touched my collarbone. “In fact, I promise you that they will do everything and more.”

“I’m hopeful.”

A muscle twitched under his eye. “Me too.”

I arched my back and was blessed by his lips on my skin.