Page 11 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

Tersely, he nodded.

Even Tikhon couldn’t believe it. He looked from Ivan to me and back again.

“Podzemnaya Tyur’ma” Underground prison.Ivan leaned forward, eyes sober and guard down. “That’s where she is. And I swear, Rafayel, that’s why I came here—to seek your permission. I don’t want to go about messing shit up or stirring trouble with the Italians and the Bratva.”

“You kidnapped Enzo’s daughter,” Tikhon cut in. There was no other way to make it clearer. “You’ve already stirred shit up, kid.”

Ivan wasn’t looking at me, but the indication of his fear was the constant clenching of his fingers on the desk.

“I meant no disrespect, but I needed to teach her a lesson. She won, fine. I’ll admit, she’s a badass driver, knows her way around the track. Maybe if she was humble, I could learn a few things from her, but she’s just so…so full of shit.”

He was breathing harshly, still battling his inner rage at the feisty Italian princess. Quite the contrary, to her credit, andin my opinion, maybe not exactly full of shit. But I got his communication loud and clear.

The kid had more than enough stings of the Leonora venom. He’d been humiliated, embarrassed, and for the first time in his life, did what a true Yezhov would have done if confronted with the same sassy bitch: retaliate.

Colombo had something that belonged to me, and currently, my genius cousin had helped me even the score.

Now, why the fuck would that upset me?

The gravity of the current situation forced me up from the chair and propelled me toward him. I shoved one hand into my pocket and stretched one out to his shoulder.

I couldn’t believe I was saying this, but….

“Good job, kid.”

The light in the room caught the shock in his eyes as his head flew back. “What?”

I withdrew my hand. If he didn’t hear it, then maybe he was better off fucking one of his cars. I wasn’t repeating it. That compliment already cost me more than a shred of pride.

But I was smirking, and Tikhon kissed his teeth and dashed me a stink eye because he knew this revenge felt better than a trip to theObsidianin more ways than one.

Fate, perhaps?

Or maybe Ivan just proved that he wasn’t the spineless dick we all thought he was.

Whatever it was, it yielded the same result.

As for me and the Italian princess, our paths were going to cross once again.

Chapter 4 – Leonora

One Day Ago

Let’s talk about my love interests.

Trudging through the sand to the black Audi R8 parked by the beach’s raised wooden gates, my jaw stayed fixed and my fingers clenched. To everyone who squealed an excited “hello!” or hearty “congratulations” as I stormed past the exit, courtesy demanded that I mutter a response, at least.

Unlocking the car, I flung my shoes on the passenger’s seat and buckled myself in. The engine purred, and bright headlights punctured through the thick clog of darkness. I latched a death grip on the steering wheel.

Back to the matter of love interests, there were zero.

That’s correct—fucking zero.And the reason for that was simple. I grew up in a house surrounded by men and women who’d trooped in or were literally snatched from different walks of life. Although, we certainly had more men.

Papa didn’t believe women could get the job done effectively, except if the job description included pole dancing, serving, or basically seduction. Something that required less brain and willpower because that was all he thought they were good for.

His low confidence in the womenfolk spurred me to push harder, to take on more responsibilities—more real action, more work—just to prove him wrong. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d thrown myself in the face of danger just to look Papa in the face and tell him, “L’ho fatto!” I did it!with a proud grin on my face.

And it was always worth it because the satisfaction derived from moments like those were more addictive than crack. Not like we did any of that shit. Papa only created pathways for transporting it and built some pretty bigbusinesses alongside selling it. But he’d never waved the green flag to consume it. His men could, and his clients could, but if either Matteo or I tried, we’d be dead before we could blink.

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