Page 10 of Born into Sin

He gives a soft laugh and finally takes them from me. “Thanks, Natalya. Appreciate it.”

I smile at the man who’s been watching over me and my cousins since I was born. His wife, Anya, used to dance at Pink, one of the strip clubs the Bratva owns, but she quit after she started dating Aleksandr. They’ve been married for almost fifteen years now and have three kids.

“Tell your family I said hi,” I say and then walk over to get in Svetlana’s car.

“Will do,” he hollers out to me. “Thanks again for the pretzels.”

We wave at them as they get in their black SUV before following us out of the garage. We’ve got an hour-long drive, and we munch on our own cinnamon pretzels on the way. By the time Svetlana is pulling onto the long, gravel road, we’ve come up with a plan of sorts. Svetlana and Yelena are going to run interference so that I can approach Dominic and ask him for a miracle. I don’t remember much about him—just a man with a light beard, an expensive suit, and an aura about him that makes it clear he likes his space. I’m fairly confident he’s going to laugh off my request. I’m just hoping like hell laughing is the only thing he does. The last thing I want is my dad and uncles knowing what we’re up to.

When Svetlana parks next to a stunning, red Lamborghini, my heart speeds up and my throat goes dry, because the man getting out of it is not at all the Dominic I remember. This man is stunningly gorgeous, a few days’ worth of stubble on his face, and wearing a suit that was obviously tailored specifically for him. It accentuates his broad shoulders and trim waist, and when he turns his head towards our car, his eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses, and I’m suddenly not feeling all that confident about our plan.

“Damn,” Svetlana mutters, giving a soft laugh. “Does he have any sons?”

I laugh, but the last thing on my mind is any possible sons he may or may not have. I’m too busy running my eyes over the older man who should most definitely not have caught my attention, but he has, and I can’t seem to look away.

Chapter 3

Dominic

Iwatch the black Mercedes that’s parked next to me. The driver gets out, and as soon as I meet her whiskey-brown eyes, I know I’m looking at Vitaly’s daughter. A dark-eyed girl steps out from the backseat, reminding me so much of Matvey and Alina that I know it must be Yelena. I’m just about to say hi when the passenger door opens and my breath catches in my throat. The first thing I see is a tan, bare leg in the sexiest pair of goddamn heels I’ve ever seen. My eyes travel up her legs, catching sight of the matching pink dress she’s wearing and the curves that are impossible for me to ignore, until finally reaching her face when she stands up. Her long, dark hair is loose around her shoulders, and when her eyes meet mine, they’re the same pale shade of blue as Lev’s.

Fuck me. It’s principessa.

She steps around the door, and since her arms are filled with bags, she uses her hip to push the door shut behind her. Forcing my eyes off her, I take a breath and step closer. I’m carrying a bag of cannoli, but I reach out so I can help before she drops the bags of pretzels. When I grab a few, my fingers lightly brush hers, and I notice the blush that heats up her cheeks. She has a tiny bit of cinnamon sugar on her bottom lip, and all my instincts are screaming at me to lean forward and lick it off.

I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into me, but fantasizing about an eighteen-year-old is not something I’ve ever done before.

Wanting to get my mind out of the damn gutter, I say, “Let me guess, these are for your Uncle Vitaly.”

Her lips part in surprise before she lets out a soft laugh. “Well, they’re for everyone, but, yeah, they’re mainly for him.”

“He made me bring him cannoli from Italy.” I hold up the bag. “This has been a pain in the ass to carry around, so he better damn well eat all of it.”

“You know he will.”

I turn to see his daughter staring at me with a big smile on her face. God, she’s got his shit-eating grin and his eyes.

“Long time, no see, Dominic,” she says with a laugh. “You remember me?”

“Of course, Svetlana, but even if I didn’t, you have your dad’s eyes and smile.” I look over at Yelena. “You also have your dad’s eyes.”

She gives me a shy smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too, Yelena.”

My eyes meet Natalya’s again. “And Lev’s daughter, of course.” I briefly run my eyes over her dress, not allowing myself to think about how damn good she looks in it. “I see you still like pink.”

“I do,” she whispers, giving me a surprised look that I remembered such a small detail about her.

“Hey,” Svetlana says, giving me the same wicked grin I’ve seen on her dad’s face more times than I can count. I know I’m probably not going to like whatever’s about to come out of her mouth, but her words are cut off when I hear her dad’s voice hollering at us from the porch.

“Dominic! Get your Italian ass over here! I’m hungry!”

No one else would ever dare speak to me the way the Melnikov brothers do, and for some insane reason I put up with it. Maybe it’s because it’s the only time I ever feel like a normal person. They’ve never treated me like I’m the heir to the Alessi Mafia. They joke around with me and give me hell, and I like that, not that I’ll ever admit it to the grinning fucker who’s still waiting for me to bring him his damn food.

“We brought cinnamon pretzels too, Dad,” Svetlana yells to him, making him smile even bigger.

I help Natalya carry the bags to the large, wraparound porch, and as soon as I’m close enough, Vitaly laughs and pulls me in for a hug.

---