Page 102 of Ruthless Mafia Boss 3: Vino and Claire

Tony chuckled. “Nothing like a badass mafia wife.”

I snickered. “Ain’t that the truth?”

Lativia AK raised her hand and asked, “Do you want me to stick close to Claire at the party?” Curiosity covered her caramel complected face.

“Absolutely. If anything goes sideways, get her out of there,” I instructed.

She brought her hand to her brow in salute and then asked, “Does she know about my new role?”

“No,” I replied.

Meeting Claire’s gaze, I continued, “Lativia is a hit woman. She’ll be part of your security detail when we get back home. Amadeo will remain on your team as well. If you need someone taken care of, just tell Lativia—she’ll handle it.”

A sinister smile crept across Claire’s face. It was clear that my fiancée was coming to embrace this mafia life.

“Prepare for landing,” the pilot stated.

The flight attendant appeared and removed our empty dishes.

I glanced at Claire. She was reclined in the seat. Tiny snores leaving her.

“Claire, wake up.”

“Are we here?” She pushed her arms in the air.

“Not yet. I’m going to need you to hide in a secret compartment in the floor.”

Her eyes widened. “Why?”

“It’s possible the Russian authorities might check our plane. I can’t let it get back to asshole that you’re in the country.”

She blew out a breath. “I understand.”

I held her hand and guided her into the master bedroom. I lifted the floorboard in the closet and took three of the six pillows from the bed. Kneeling down, I arranged the pillows inside. I assisted Claire into the box.

“I have one more thing for you.”

I went into the bathroom and collected the portable oxygen tank and mask I kept on board in case of a medical emergency. I placed the tank in the box. I leaned in and took her lips. “I will come back for you soon. Even if I have to murder them all.”

“Vino, I trust you’ll keep calm and get me out of this box.”

“Yes, I will soon to be, Mrs. Romano.”

I slid the oxygen mask over her face. Claire settled on the pillows and I closed the box.

I placed two suitcases over the compartment.

Once I returned to my seat, I ensured I had my passport ready.

The wheels touched down on the tarmac.

A jeep rode toward my jet. I gritted my teeth. Because I wanted to blow the police officers’ brains out, so I didn’t have to deal with these greedy fucks. But this was how it went in Russia. You had to grease some palms to handle your business here.

“Hello,” one of the five officers said as they approached.

“Let me see some identification,” the blond officer said.

I stood to my feet, reached inside my blazer pocket, and produced my passport.

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