Dirty Desires: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

“Pestov hasn’t chosen me yet.”

He will or I will kill his fucking family.

She covered her mouth and yawned a little. “Either way, I was approached by Vogue Paris last night. It came out of nowhere. They want to do a sit-down interview and photoshoot.”

She deserved the attention from the media. She had the talent, determination, and unwillingness to give up. Vogue Paris and everyone else should’ve been at her doorstep right now.

But I didn’t enjoy the cameras all around her. I didn’t like more people learning about the woman that was slowly becoming all mine.

I brushed my fingers down her arm. “Two of my men will go with you.”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Why? Do you think I’m in danger, after what happened to Olesya?”

“No. There’s no danger, but. . .when I’m dating someone, I like to provide certain things.”

“Like bodyguards?”

“Yes. With your new fame, the crazies will come out to have some fun. I just want you safe and protected.”

And all men ten feet away.

“Thank you, Misha. I can use your guards for now and see if I can get used to it. Maybe, I’ll get my own.”

You will, but they’ll be mine too.

“So, we’re dating?” she asked with a wicked grin.

“We are. Exclusively.”

She laughed. “You can’t just say we’re exclusive. That tends to be a discussion.”

“This is the discussion.”

“I see.”

“Do you disagree?”

“I don’t.”

“Are you hungry?”

“It doesn’t matter. I have to get myself together and start the day.” She rose from bed and grabbed her phone.

I dragged myself up too, wanting to keep our moment going, but I had things to do. When I’d made love to Ava the first time, she’d showered. Afterwards, I went into the bathroom to clean up. She had called her grandmother. Hearing her on the phone, I paused from my shower and eavesdropped. Ava told her grandmother about the performance. The whole time they talked, I hacked into Ava’s phone and discovered her grandmother’s location in New York.

By the time Ava ended the call, I had a guy heading to her grandmother’s house to get her.

Ava will love this surprise.

With it being a ten-hour flight, I hoped my men had carried out the surprise. Ava’s grandmother should be on the way and land by late afternoon.

I can’t wait to see Ava’s face, when she sees her. Surely this is a good excuse to delay the funeral.

Ava hurried off to the bathroom.

The sound of the shower turning on came next.

I checked my watch.

If her grandmother arrives by the afternoon, we’ll have time to get the woman a nice gown for the performance. Women love pampering. Surely, her grandmother deserves it.

I tapped my phone, considered calling Valentina for help on the clothes, and then shook my head.

No. We don’t need to get the Ballerina Killer involved. Everything has to go perfect. Valentina will only mess it up.

I turned on my phone to see if Maxwell had called for help yet. I was sure he would be frantic to get away from Valentina soon.

Valentina will definitely put him through the test.

I kept my chuckle down and read the screen.

Twenty messages? What?

Most of them came from my top security guy in America. Another set was from Kazimir asking about the funeral. Instead of calling him, I texted Kazimir back.

Me: The funeral will be delayed.

Kazimir: For how long?

Me: Several days.

The phone rang.

Kazimir’s name showed up on the screen.

I sent him to voicemail, knowing he would be pissed. It couldn’t be helped. Too much was going on at once.

Why do I have so many missed messages.

I scanned the numbers. Most were labeled as unknown, but I knew where they were from. The Kremlin was the only one that could hide their numbers from me.

What does Moscow want with me? I’m definitely not talking to President Smirnov today.

Next, numbers came from my father’s castle in Prague.

What could his men want?

I texted them too, letting everyone know that the funeral would be delayed. They responded back, but I ignored them. After my father’s death, I’d made several funeral arrangements while I was in Prague. Enough of the planning would be in place. There was no need for them to bother me.

My father had an odd life. After my mother’s death, he stopped trying to be normal. He’d kept my mother’s corpse buried under a stage. He put a throne on the stage and sat there from morning to night.

I often pondered what he must’ve thought about as he sat over her body. Many times, I didn’t think of about it too much. If I did, it would break my heart.

Father, why did they have to kill you? Now what will become of the castle in Prague? I don’t want to live there. I never want to see that place again.

My father had put several detailed instructions in his will. I planned on ignoring all of them. He wanted me to place his dead body under the stage next to my mother, knowing that I didn’t like that she was there. He also demanded that I move to the castle and sit on the throne above them both.