Bratva Sinner (A Possessive Mafia Romance)

It seemed hopeless. Don Lionetti wanted to show the city that messing with his family meant total and brutal retribution—and I was directly in the line of fire.

9

Luke

The Lionetti family wasn’t going to make this easy on me.

As much as I wanted to keep this within the crew only, I knew I had to go to the leaders of the Morozov family. At this point, if the Lionettis were going to start coming after me, they had to know something was happening.

“He’s going to be angry,” German said, taking a long drink from his coffee mug. He stood across from me in the kitchen while Cara moved around us, straightening up and pretending like she wasn’t listening.

“He doesn’t love the Lionettis and he’s been looking for an excuse to get involved with them for years. Maybe this is his reason.” I shrugged and crossed my legs.

“Sometimes, Luke, I think you don’t use your head.” German only stared at me flatly. “The Pakhan’s been building the Morozov for the last thirty years by keeping out of big conflicts with the other families, and you think suddenly he wants to get into a war?”

“Not a war,” I said, shaking my head, “but a skirmish? A little fight? I think he’d relish the chance to show that he’s a power in this city.”

German ran a hand over his head. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m not sure I want to find out.”

“Too bad, because you’re coming with me.” I looked over at Cara. “You too, princess.”

She glared at me as she put a dish into the dishwasher. “Don’t call me that, and where are we going?”

“You’re coming to meet my boss.”

“I didn’t know you had one.” She leaned against the counter.

German snorted. “Everyone’s got a boss.”

“I get a lot of leeway from the Morozov family, but my crew’s a part of their network.”

“How’s that work then?” Cara asked, head tilted to one side. She wore her hair down and brushed over one shoulder with tight, short shorts and a low-cut tank top. It was like she wanted to tempt me.

“Pakhan Morozov runs the family from the center,” I said, gesturing with my hands to try to illustrate my point. “Then there are a bunch of little cells and crews all around him. We mostly do what we want, but the Pakhan has the final say over everything.”

“Works better if everyone’s working for themselves,” German added. “Gives the crews incentive to try real hard to earn money, but also gives the Pakhan some legal protection. If one crew goes down, they don’t drag everyone down with them.”

“Decentralized structure,” Cara said, nodding.

“Yeah, sure, that.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “But the Pakhan can shut this little operation down immediately, so we need to convince him that it’s worth sticking with.”

“You mean, you need to convince him not to order you to hand me over to the Lionettis.”

I laughed softly. “More or less, that’s right.”

She tensed, eyes narrowing as she kicked the dishwasher closed. “What happens if he does? Order you, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted honestly. I’d never gone against an order from the Pakhan before, but he’d never ordered me to do something I really didn’t want to do.

I wanted to protect Cara. It was obvious she didn’t deserve any of this shit—but more than that, I was drawn to her like a moth to a candle. She was like a back yard full of fireflies lighting up the darkness, and all I wanted was to be near her, to touch her and taste her, to make her feel all the things I wanted and thought she deserved.

But the idea of going against my family to keep her made my jaw clench. I was a loyal man and had always done what was best for the Morozov family and for my crew. I had to hope that my loyalty would be repaid by the Pakhan, and if he decided to order me to send her away, I’d have to make the most difficult decision of my life, a decision that wouldn’t only affect me, but would impact the entire crew.

“I have to admit, I’m not feeling great about this meeting,” she said after a long pause and tugged at her hair. “Do you really need to involve this Pakhan guy?”

“Evgeni Morozov,” I said and drummed my fingers on the table. “And yes, we really do. It’s going to be fine, you don’t have to worry.” Which was a total lie, of course. She should be extremely worried.

I was extremely worried.

“Let’s get it over with at least,” German said, looking at his watch. “He should be at the usual spot by now.”

I grunted and stood up. “At least he’s in a good mood when he’s eating there.”

“Eating where?” Cara asked.

“Russian deli,” I said. “Down past South Street. He loves their pickles and their rye bread.”