Page 48 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

At the same time, Maxim tossed his gun to one of the new recruits outside the ring, and Vasili seized the chance to deliver a clean right hook to his jaw, which sent him sprawling. The walls echoed with the sound of knuckles connecting with flesh, and a splash of red flowed from Maxim’s nose and mouth.

“That was fucking dirty,” Tikhon commented beside me and blew out smoky clouds from his mouth. I agreed. But Vasili preferred playing dirty. It’d always been his style.

“She’s a fucking slut like the rest of them, bastard,” Vasili barked, dealing another blow to Maxim’s right rib without giving him a chance to recover. Then, he dealt another and another, smashing the same side until we thought Maxim’s rib cage was going to cave in.

With a frown, I faced Tikhon. “This shit is about a woman?”

He didn’t look at me, but his lips curved with the smallest smile. “This shit is about Vasili fucking Maxim’s sister.”

“Shit.”

We both laughed. If that was the case, Maxim wouldn’t stay down for very long, and that would mean Vasili had hell to pay. It was going to be a tough match but an interesting watch, and at least one of them would suffer more broken bones and bruised joints.

It also meant money could be made.

Watching the two of them go at it, clawing at each other with bones snapping and crimson saliva flying everywhere, I told Tikhon, “Five hundred bucks on Maxim.”

“Not today.” Tikhon shook his head. “Six hundred bucks on Vasili. He’s going to beat the shit out of him.”

“Means you’re on his side for fucking his sister?”

We weren’t big on morals, especially not when we thrived on fostering the very mechanisms that cut corners around thatfoundation. But hurting or taking advantage of family stirred a blood thirst. And I was big on that.

When Tikhon looked at me with a smirk on his lips, I knew the bastard had a secret of his own. “Works at a flower shop on weekdays and a call girl in Nevada on weekends. Crazy how Maxim only just figured it out. I’m not on Vasili’s side, but I’ve fucked the girl. More than a dozen of our men know she tastes like strawberries.”

I didn’t need more details. Shaking my head, I rolled my eyes and looked back to the ring to see Vasili straddling Maxim’s lap, dealing his blows from the left cheek to the right and back again.

But I was curious about Tikhon’s choice. “Why Vasili then?”

He shrugged with a shoulder. “Easy. Maxim’s distracted by emotions. He cares a great deal about her, you know? She’s the only family he’s got left, and she’s his soft spot. That means he’s fighting with his heart. Vasili, on the other hand, has got everything in place. His cock’s in his shorts; his head’s screwed on the right, and, see—watch that swing. Did you see that? He’s playing dirty, but he’s calculated every fucking....”

Tikhon’s explanation faded amid grunts and loud Russian curses from angry men. I began to feel a strange connection to this charade.

Speaking of women, their mania was a welcomed distraction to rampant thoughts of the Italian princess who constantly plagued my mind for weeks.

I’d done my part: I kept my distance. There were no on-site meetings, messages, or other such activities. The problem was that I wished I hadn’t.

Nothing was as challenging as keeping my fingers to myself when they itched to grab the phone and just call her. I wanted to see her again, to know what she was doing, everysingle minute of every fucking day. When I conquered that desire and kept my hands to myself, it didn’t matter what business I had going on; I had a hard time concentrating.

Was this obsession?

I didn’t know, couldn’t tell. There was no woman on the planet who could boast of having such an effect. One night meant one night. The next morning, I wouldn’t even remember what her titties looked like. I’d be out that door in seconds without feeling some magnetic pull that made me want to look over my shoulder to make sure she was secure.

It happened that morning, when I left Leonora sleeping peacefully on that bed.

Her voice. I thought I needed to hear it again, this time moaning my name in my fucking ears while I fucked her on my bed. Or better yet, feel her fingers in my hair. I liked it when she kissed me and acknowledged my scar with her lips, too. The thought of her moving on with another man, curling around his arm like she did mine, was like driving a torch through my chest. It fucking burned.

Christ. Fuck. I knew what this was, this seemingly unquenchable fire that blazed when I thought of her: fucking attraction.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, thinking it was Andrei. The man might just have telepathic powers to know when to burst my bubble.

It wasn’t.

I turned my back to the growing bloodbath on the ring, pressing the phone to my ear to mute out the noise. “Any news?”

The rapid tapping of keys echoed over the phone before Urvan’s low voice came through. “Yes. Bad. She’s in trouble.”

Knowing I couldn’t have her didn’t mean I couldn’t keep my eyes on her. It just didn’t have to be my eyes. Urvan was the best private investigator I’d hired for the job. Some days, I knewwhat she had for breakfast, her routine before she went to her father’s estate, the last person she spoke to before turning in for bed, and, most importantly, how close Marco stayed by her side.

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