Page 30 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

“Margo,” she said smoothly. “She’s a dear friend. Ran into a little trouble with some guy and a kid pit bull—claims she doesn’t know their names. Anyway, imagine my surprise when she sent me pictures of the designers she was warned to stay away from.” Polina’s lips curled into a sharp smile, flashing perfect white teeth. “She’s under my protection now.”

I couldn’t blame Vino. He just tried to protect me.

“You’ve been off my radar all these years,” she tsked.

“What do you want?” I bit out.

“To make sure you’re holding up your end of the deal,” she growled.

“Deal?” I retorted, fists clenched at my sides.

What deal was this delusional bitch talking about?

I inched closer. “As I’ve told you repeatedly, and I’ll say it again now.” I glanced at the enormous diamond on her left hand before meeting her eyes. “I don’t want your fucking husband.” I stepped back, remembering this was my place of business.

She released an exaggerated chuckle. “You have all this now.” Polina gestured her hand.

“You think you have power, too?”

I bit my tongue. “Get the fuck out of my design studio,” I sneered.

“Careful, don’t let all this go to your head. I can pull the rug out from under you. I’ll take it all away.”

I bared my teeth, like a wolf ready to devour its enemy. “I’d like to see you try.”

Polina was a bully. The bitch was so powerful she could end me with the snap of her fingers.

You can’t forget what she did to you, Claire.

I refused to cower. Holding my head high, I glared at her.

Her upper lip twitched. She wasn’t expecting this version of me. The strong me.

“He’s coming,” she hissed before spinning on her red-bottom stilettos. Her red strappy dress clung to her size-zero frame as she strutted her ass out the door.

Amadeo wasted no time seeing Polina out. I was so grateful for my bodyguards.

Back then, it was just little old me.

CHAPTER SEVEN

TWELVE YEARS AGO

CLAIRE

Ivan Sokolov joined Rosemary High School in the eleventh grade. Our homeroom teacher assigned me the task of showing him around the school. Although he was from Russia, his accent was mild, suggesting he had likely been in the U.S. since childhood. His father was a prominent businessman, so Ivan was always accompanied by his security team.

He stood about six feet tall, with striking medium-length blond hair and blue eyes. As I showed him around, girls seemed to swoon at every opportunity.

However, he appeared uninterested in them, his gaze fixed on me.

My focus was on my favorite class sewing and the courses I needed to secure a full college scholarship. Boys weren’t on my mind, though it was obvious they were thinking about me.

My sister, Hope, hated that. She’d always say I didn’t even have to try to get a boy’s attention. For some reason, they just tried harder when it came to me.

Ivan was the smoothest of them all. He’d flash a smile at the other girls, then casually throw an arm around my shoulder, grinning as he said, “Sorry, girls, I already have a girlfriend.”

We continued down the hallway. “Ivan, you could date one of them or all of them. But if you want to avoid any hassle, feel free to say I’m your girlfriend,” I suggested.

---