Page 19 of Triplets for the Russian Boss

“I offered you a job, and I suggest you accept it. I need to keep an eye on you, until this washes over. Let’s call it a three-month contract.”

“You’re hiring me?” I ask again, not believing that it could be that simple.

He nods slowly, sliding his hand over and taking the lighter from the table between us.

“And what if I don’t want to?”

Smoke rises from his lips and he puffs on the cigar, twirling it as the end lights up in an impressive orange glow. He doesn’t answer my question. Instead, he stares at me with a blank expression, waiting for me to come to a conclusion on my own.

This is a chance to get the fuck out of the club, and possibly save my throat from being slit, but what’s the true cost? What will he have me do for him?

“I’m not doing anything illegal,” I say, flicking the end of my cigarette behind me.

“You won’t have to.”

I squint my eyes at Kostin, trying to pry the truth from his stoic gaze but without any luck. He’s giving me nothing; but nothing is better than death.

“I’ll take the job, just as long as I don’t get fucking killed or end up in jail,” I say, after a few seconds of staring him down.

“Good,” he says, a smirk flickering the side of his lip up. “You’re going to start work tomorrow as my personal masseuse. You will be paid double what you make at the club. I don’t wish to waste your time, Bonnie. I’m only trying to keep an eye on you.”

Three months rubbing the shoulders of a Mafia boss. Well, it certainly seems better than taking my clothes off for strangers every night. Plus, if he’s being honest about the money, then I might even be able to pay to go back to school so that I can support my triplets in a more honest way.

And then, it hits me – the reality of not being able to see my baby boys, without Kostin knowing about them. I don’t want them involved in the awful life that either of us is living. I don’t want them exposed to the way the world really works.

I swallow hard, my throat tightening at the thought of Kostin looking into their eyes when we enter my apartment. He’d know immediately that they were his. They all have his eyes and thick curly hair. It would be like having him look into a mirror at a circus and seeing three of himself staring back.

I can’t go home until this is over, but I will be calling the babysitter. She’s about to get a hell of a bonus for what she’ll have to do, but I’m good for it. Kostin is paying me way more than a regular masseuse should be making.

Which makes me suspicious.

Very suspicious.

Then again, it’s either keep me by his side or kill me, and he doesn’t seem to want to put a bullet through my chest like he did to Jerry. As much as it didn’t faze him to kill someone, I doubt he’s going around shooting witnesses. It’d be more of a mess to clean up, and people would find out. One is enough, just like he said.

“Alright,” I say, laying my hands down on the cheap fiberboard table. “But I need to make a phone call first. I have some stuff to wrap up at the house.”

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