Page 23 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

Almost nothing surprised me.

News could piss me off, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Maybe it was a thing that came with having to watch your back every single minute of every day when you were unfortunately cursed with a psychopathic father who was always on the loose. He’d never made it easy for us. But growing up around him long enough helped us to see his crazy tantrums coming.

You could tell me the Armenians sprang a surprise attack and raided a drop five minutes before schedule, and I wouldn’t blink. Tell me the Chinese government created some new technology that was liable to wipe out the entire human race in nanoseconds, and I’d swing a glass of Vodka and wait for the explosion.

So, when Tikhon bounced into the living room with a fancy glittering black-and-gold invitation to dinner with Enzo Colombo’s daughter, a surprise bomb detonated in my chest, and “What the fuck did you say?” was out faster from my mouth than I’d ever said anything in my entire life.

Tikhon laughed and joined me on the sofa. He dropped the invite on the center table, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and fingers clasped together, scrutinizing it like something else lay inside.

“She smelled rats and weasels. I smell Italian fish.”

Tikhon was struggling to keep the smile off his face but failed miserably. While he found the situation amusing, my brain was spinning in circles, trying to decrypt the hidden message.

He pointed at the card. “This shit is real.”

“Or not.” I picked up the card, inspected it, and gave up when all I saw were gold letters on glossy black paper.

Special VIP invitation.

To: Rafayel Yezhov

Dinner at Bella Italia. Time: 7 PM. Don’t be late.

I leaned back against the sofa with a scowl. She’d successfully surprised me once with this invitation. I wasn’t going to walk headfirst into another surprise.

“Doesn’t make sense.”

A snort from Tikhon made me wonder if we were on the same page. “Because it’s not possible to be invited to dinner by a hot lady. You get plenty of invites from different women. Why’s this any different?”

So, my most trusted had checked the girl out. She was a beauty—a pure one. And I knew she’d not only caught the big guy’s attention. It meant nothing and shouldn’t bother me. That’s what I kept trying to tell myself, at least, while I tried to focus on what her ulterior motive could be.

And did he ask why this was different?

I had to look him in the face to be sure I was talking to the same person I’d known for years. Apparently, the girl’s charm had done a number on him to make him spew a truckload of nonsense.

“We’re talking about Colombo’s daughter, the Italian princess with a fucking temper. In case you developed some form of amnesia these past few weeks, I’ll remind you: We nabbed her. Three weeks later, she wants to have dinner, and you’re asking why this is different?”

He sat up straighter and, for a second, made me believe he had his thoughts buried deep in logic. “You’re thinking she’d plan a dinner atBella Italia—note: a densely populated rooftop five-star restaurant—just to poison you?”

God, what the fuck happened to him? Did she get him that hard?

The last thing I needed was for him—or anyone, for that matter—to act like my level of intelligence was drastically low.I wasn’t overreacting. With the Italian involved, it was perfectly normal to think this way.

“Don’t underestimate her.”

Tikhon held up his hands. “After having the pleasure of a one-on-one meeting, that’s definitely the last thing I’m doing. Have you given it a thought that she could be into you? Wouldn’t be the first time a woman’s hitting on you in broad daylight.”

Wouldn’t be the first time, but Leonora Colombo, into me?

It was my turn to laugh at his absurdity. “Sure, and I’m the first man that made the trip to the fucking moon. Get your head out of your ass and think with me.”

A dinner organized at a populated rooftop five-star restaurant didn’t debunk shit. The girl was dangerous, and I knew accepting this invitation was akin to playing with fucking fire.

And yet, I asked Tikhon to get my suit ready anyway.

****

I sipped my glass of Pinot Grigio. Vodka tasted better, but this was going to have to do for now. The crisp taste tried to calm my growing paranoia as I gazed out at the view of the city skyline.

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