Page 1 of Paying the Mafia Don

Prologue

I’d rather swim in a bay full of sharks than marry again. At least a shark would tear you apart in one large chunk. Hell, you might even survive. It was the million-and-one piranha bites that were more murderous. I’d already had my heart chewed up and spit out by my carnivorous ex-wife. A wife whose last gift to me was her untimely death.

After having driven straight off a cliff a mere six years earlier, why the hell am I back driving down the same road? My fingers clench, and I roll my shoulders, hoping to release some tension before the video call begins. The silver framed photo on the desk draws my eyes. Its invisible magnet attracts me whenever I am distressed. Ya-ya, Mama, and Cassie watch me with sweet eyes that hide their steel. They are mirror images of each other. Thank God. Every time I doubt my daughter’s parentage, the picture of Cassie sitting next to her grandmother and great-grandmother clears them. Their heavy blanket of thick dark hair, long soot lashes, and ink-colored brows are carbon copies. From the identical olive skin tones to their matching pink lips and high cheekbones, it’s as if someone split their DNA into thirds and gave each one a piece.

I would do anything for them—including marrying again. They don’t care that I might have murdered my first wife. They don’t believe I have it in me. I’m head of the Gataki Organization, second only to my father, who still likes to occasionally hold the reins he turned over to me two years ago. His only request is that I remarry.

“A man needs a wife,” He argues. Shuffling uncomfortably when I growl at his suggestion. He was the one who’d pushed me to marry Eden—using the same argument. Just because he’d won the biggest gamble of his life—a jackpot that paid him with six children and a beautiful woman’s unconditional love—doesn’t mean I’ll ever have the same.

“Marry, have children. Let your children play with your men’s children. This is how you grow an organization. This is how you build loyalty and bonds that don’t break.”

His arguments, my grandmother’s pleas, and my mother’s suggestions wouldn’t have made a difference. It’s Cassie with her dark eyes, so like my mother’s—and so earnest when she says her prayers at night.

Prayers that kill me every time she asks for another mama. For Christmas, it was the only thing on her list. Why? Why wasn’t I enough? Apparently, something she had inherited from her mother. I give her everything I have. Anything she wants, I lay at her feet. Anything.

The only thing I can’t do is bring back her mother—not that I would ever give her that lying bitch. Cassie wants her own mom, just like her friends have. As if mothers were popular dolls, six-year-olds could wrap up and take to school. I twist my head again. All the tension from my previous shoulder roll returns with a vengeance. I open the call with Rurik Ismailov. He agreed to meet at nine am, and I’ve kept him waiting for fifteen minutes. Which is fair because he’s kept me waiting for a year.

The Ismailovs and the Gatakis are two of the most feared names in our business. In terms of money, power, and sheer muscle, the Ismailovs have the advantage. The fuckers descended from an untamed Russian territory, Ardestan. A place where men still carry women off to their damn caves. They arrived in America and muscled their way to the top of the Mafia mountain. The Ismailovs may have the muscle, and the DeLucas may have the product, but nothing happens without our shipping lanes. Commodities are useless if you can’t move them. Moving shipments is where the Gataki’s and the Falcones come in. We move product by sea and air, and the Falcons move product across the land. It’s an uneasy alliance since we’re all power-hungry greedy bastards—but it works. Or it worked. Our alliance has been off since the wedding disaster. If a Gataki son had married an Ismailov daughter, we would have consolidated our families into a single organization.

Yelena Ismailov ruined our plans when she ran off with some straight-ass, by-the-book private investigator. A deception carried out expertly under the watchful eyes of her family. Her lies left them egg-faced and angry. How fucking embarrassing to know you could be at the top of your organization and still have a lying woman come out from under your thumb and stab you in the back? I got it. Oh boy, did I get it. I would almost have sympathy for Rurik, but he owed me a bride, and now I need to collect.

Yelena’s face is first to appear on screen. She is stunningly beautiful with the dark hair of the Ismailovs and wide doe-shaped eyes. She’s holding the hand of a guy, who could only be her husband. He has the beach boy blonde hair of a surfer, and despite his size, I dismiss him. He is a superman. A fighter for truth and justice, and I don’t want to debate either of those gray areas. I have something I’m fighting for as well—Cassie.

I zoom in on Rurik’s face blocking out the others. He sits next to Hannah, his wife. The wife he took in revenge for his sister’s betrayal. Everybody made good after that clusterfuck—except me.

I don’t waste time. I don’t have time to waste. I ignore his bride and speak to Rurik. If they want their women in on this meeting, so be it. “I’ll land in Chicago tomorrow at noon. When can I pick up my bride?”

My camera automatically shifts focus to whoever speaks. Which is irritating as hell when Yelena answers for her brother. “Good Morning, Leandros. I want to start by apologizing… I realize—”

“Okhi. I didn’t request your apology. You annulled our agreement and obviously have no regrets, or you wouldn’t be sitting here today, with your husband at your side.” I sneer the word husband. Causing the fucker to squeeze her hand, lift it to his lips and kiss it. The smooth move is defiant, supportive, and a middle finger to me. Damn, it kind of makes me like the guy. But I’m not here for friendship. “Will I be getting married tomorrow?”

“Mr. Gataki, Hannah Baranauf, Rurik’s wife speaks. “We’re hoping for more time. This is the modern age. We can’t just force a woman—”

“And yet, isn’t that how you married? Didn’t Ismailov force you to marry him?” I raise my brow at the infamous story. Everyone knows how Rurik stole Hannah out of her bed. Snatching her right out from under her father’s nose because he was so furious at Hannah’s role in Yelena’s escape.

“Yes. But he knows better now. He sees the value in wooing…”

“Do the women run this family now?” I direct to Rurik. Who meets my glare and smirks. Knew the value of wooing —bull shit. “Am I supposed to debate this shit with wives?”

Both women bristle at my words but look to Rurik for guidance. He let his silence answer. We enter into a staring contest. A contest he concedes with a shrug. “We are still searching for someone who would meet your requests. It’s not easy to find a woman who can join our two families.”

I wave the requirement away. “She can be unaffiliated.” It’s my turn to concede, and he leans forward—alert. His eyes probing mine across the distance which separates us.

“And the shipping lanes? The Ismailov and Gataki…”

“We’ll negotiate the partnership separately—.” I look at the two women and Avery Savage. “—and, privately. Don’t misunderstand. If the Ismailovs keep their word, the Gatakis will honor our previous agreement as well. The wife was always just a way to make our partnership stronger.”

“And now…”

“Now, we will seal the agreement at the Kolya’s wedding.” Both women catch each other’s eyes and smile. Wiggling in their seats with victorious grins. “Again, I repeat—don’t misunderstand. I still require a wife. She just no longer has to be an Ismailov. You will supply her for me after the wedding. I’ve waited long enough. My daughter needs a mother, and you will keep your word. If I can’t trust you with this one thing, then how can I trust you with our partnership?”

Rurik’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. You’ll have your bride.” He silences his women’s objection with a stern look that freezes them on the spot. “A willing bride.” That satisfies Hannah and Yelena, who sit back in their chairs. Their shoulders sagging as if a weight had lifted off of them.

Rage boils through my veins. Yelena started this mess when she ran away from our marriage. Now, instead of remorse, she is still attempting to pull the strings. I don’t hate women. My Ya-Ya, mother, and daughter are my world. But this meddling in matters that don’t fucking concern them is not to be tolerated. Ismailov might allow it, but I’d be cold and buried before I allow a woman to twist me around her fingers.

“I look forward to meeting my bride—and make her a virgin.”

The ladies gasp, and their heads snap to Rurik. His gaze doesn’t waver. “Where the hell am I supposed to find a fucking virgin? They don’t fall off the damn trees.”

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