I swallowed. I knew it was true. This man wasn’t afraid
of anyone: not even Vasiliy. He would move mountains
to possess me. He’d start a goddamn war.
But he’s a gangster. “I don’t want this life,” I told him,
my voice bitter. “I walked away from all this.” And I
took a step back, intending to get some space between
us and then walk around him, back to the mansion.
He followed me. Two quick strides and he’d pressed me
back against a tree, his body tight against mine.
Suddenly, I realized how cold I was...how much I
needed the warm hardness of his chest against my
breasts. But I can’t! This is crazy! Remember who he is!
I put my palms on his chest to push him back.
He captured my wrists and pulled them up above my
head, pinning them to the tree. He leaned in, his eyes
searching mine. “You say you don’t want this,” he said.
“Fine. You tell me straight, Irina. Tell me right now that
you never want to see me again and I’m gone. No one
ever has to know what happened.”
He was giving me an out. All I had to do was say the
words. I drew on everything Vasiliy had taught me,
dragging up layer after layer of impenetrable Malakov
ice to shield me. Just say the words.
But whenever I looked at him, the heat was like a
blowtorch. It seared through the ice like it wasn’t there.
I had to look away. I can say it if I look away—
He released my wrists with one hand and captured my
chin. He turned my head so that I had to look at him.
“But you know what I think, Irina?”
I stared at him, my heart thundering.
“I think you need this as much as I do.”
I didn’t answer. And that was all the answer he needed.
He leaned down, one big hand still holding my wrists
tight against the rough trunk of the tree. He moved
more gently than I would have thought possible, given
his size. His lips brushed mine—
Don’t! Don’t let him— I felt both of us teetering on the
brink of a bottomless ravine. We both knew it was
wrong. We both knew how much danger this would
bring and it wasn’t that we didn’t care. It was that we
were utterly helpless to resist.
My lips parted...and I was lost. Our tongues touched
and my own groan of need was matched by his. The
kiss took hold of me, my whole body moving in time
with the soft rhythm of his lips. Above my head, my
hands tightened into fists at how good it felt. The
pleasure rippled down my body, blossoming and
spreading, pushing back the cold. The kiss was slow and
romantic, but edged with molten heat.
I broke away, breathless. “I need to get back,” I told
him, my voice throaty.
He squeezed my wrists for a second, reluctant to
release me...then let me go. My skin glowed warm
where he’d held me and the cold air didn’t seem to
make it fade. “I’ll call you,” he told me.
I swallowed...and nodded.
As I went to step past him again, he caught my arm.
“Mikhail,” he growled. “Are you...with him?”
I shook my head. “Vasiliy wants me to marry him,” I
said. “I came with him to the party, to keep Vasiliy
happy. But I don’t feel anything for him.”
Angelo gave me a slow nod. “He ever grabs you like
that again, I’ll kill him.”
I nodded. And then I was away, walking quickly through
the night, praying the freezing air would cool my face. I
tried to slow my breathing, to make my face its usual
cold, indifferent mask. I needed to control my emotions
more than ever.
I was a Malakov. But I was kissing the enemy.
14
Angelo
The sand squished between my toes, the surf tugging at
my ankles as it rolled in and out. Irina hadn’t seen me
yet. She was looking out to sea, watching the sun sink
below the horizon.
I took two running steps towards her and scooped her
up into my arms. She yelped and then giggled, the
sound like music. I carried her out into the waves, the
water breaking over her smooth tan thighs and making
them gleam. Beneath her turquoise swimsuit, her
breasts were perfect, lush swells... I could feel my cock
hardening in my trunks. I didn’t give a shit who was
watching from the beach, as soon as we got out into
deeper water, that swimsuit was coming off.
My phone rang.
I waded for another step or so, frowning and looking
around for the source of the noise, and then the sunset
dissolved into dawn and I was lying in my bed, the
sheets tangled around me. There was a sudden cold
emptiness where Irina’s warm, wet body had been a
second before.
Fuck!
I never dreamed. Nightmares, now and again, about my
folks. But not idyllic, Technicolor visions like that. Jesus,
I could still smell the salt water and feel the wet strands
of her hair against my neck.
I groped and found my phone. “What?” I snarled.
“Sorry, boss,” said Rico meekly. “Got a call. The Saints
want you to come in.”
I cursed under my breath and closed my eyes. My day
had started badly and it was about to get worse.
* * *
The Saints. Six old school Cosa Nostra guys who run
New York, Boston, and a good amount of the
surrounding area. The streets answer to me but I
answer to them.
We’d never gotten on well. They’d never respected me,
only grudgingly accepting me when I’d taken over from
my dad. It didn’t help that I was one of the youngest
bosses around and none of The Saints were under sixty.
Sometimes, going to see them was okay. When things
were going well, they’d break out the good Scotch and
cigars and gently praise me. But I knew this wasn’t
going to be one of those times: they’d summoned me
too abruptly.
The meetings were always in the big, dark mansion
owned by “Saint” Nicholas Vici. Old Nicky wasn’t so
much the leader as the spokesperson—the six guys
seemed to always agree on everything, like they were a
fucking hive mind. When I walked into the room, they
were all sitting around one side of the big oak table, like
always, with a single chair facing them for me. Like I
was a kid facing off against the Principal and five
teachers.
“This thing with the Russian,” Nicky said before I’d even
sat down. “It’s a problem.”
Shit! I froze, my ass hovering above my chair. Then I
told myself not to be stupid. If they knew about Irina, I
would have been hauled in here at gunpoint. “I can
handle Vasiliy,” I told them. “And Mikhail.”
“Doesn’t seem like it. We hear he’s stolen Heinwell away
from you, now? And his people smashed up a
restaurant? That’s public, Angelo. That sorta shit brings
the press and the cops. Everyone starts thinking you
can’t defend your turf.”
My hands tightened into fists. “I’ve been holding that
turf for years. The Russians aren’t a problem.”
“Really?” Nicky reached behind him and plucked
something off the floor. “Then how the fuck do you
explain this?”
He hurled it at me and I only caught it a second before
it hit me in the face. When I lowered it, I saw Nicky
smirking at me. The bastard had never liked me. He’d
never liked my dad, for that matter. The only reason he
hadn’t replaced me was that I did too good of a job.
I turned the thing over in my hands. A handbag with
shining metal buckles and the designer logo picked out
in those little crystals women go nuts for.