Page 62 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation
“All but you, is that right?”
“No.” I narrow my eyes. “But this bratva’s mine and I’ll put up with you to get it.” I take a breath. “We had a deal. He’d run it, and I’d help out. Then I’d eventually take over and he could go back to traveling, living it up.”
“So you were seduced by Paddy, then, after dear Stan departed this mortal coil?”
Seamus is the most despicable man I’ve met. I think I preferred believing he killed Stan. This is worse.
He recognizes me.
My failures. Those shortcomings, the sins of my heart and soul. I wrapped up caring about the bratva in a thin layer of caring about Stan.
It doesn’t matter that I did at a certain level, but we didn’t really know each other. He liked fast crowds, and he enjoyed being a spectator to the kind of slick danger Paddy brought. So, of course, he was at a bar when a fight broke out, and I know when I heard who killed him, my first thought was this Seamus person killed my chances.
It wasn’t about Stan.
And Seamus somehow sees this.
It makes me hate him more.
“Piotyr isn’t my type.”
“Wasn’t. Your Piotyr’s dead.”
I don’t even blink. “I don’t care.”
Silence spreads like a held breath as we look at each other. A bigger truth engulfing us, one I can’t read.
“Maybe he didn’t seduce you physically, but he got your trust.” Seamus breaks that silence.
I struggle some more but his hold doesn’t slip. “He didn’t want any part of the bratva. He wanted standing, one he said you took from him. And he wanted to crush you, too. For Stan. For those he lost. And a small smuggling operation like Volkov wouldn’t give him that.”
“Theshitenever saw the bigger picture. But here I think you’re wrong. I think he saw it, and you, as a stepping stone.”
“Too late now,” I snarl, “isn’t it?”
“That it is, sweet thing.” He pauses. Then he kisses me softly, sweetly—it’s like a single pure note. “So why didn’t they just wait for you to come of age? A cousin? An uncle?”
Shock ricochets. The kiss was a disarming move, nothing more. There’s less inside this man than there is in me. “I’m female. They were full Russian and I’m only half. Misogyny.Dad’s will didn’t surface until recently. With the death of my uncle?—”
“Did you kill him?” he asks.
I move fast, slamming my head into his, and he reels back, laughing.
“Fuckwit!” I snarl.
“Jesus, I’m not sure now if you did or didn’t.”
“I didn’t.” I manage to get away from him and I’m on my feet, running to the other side of the bed, knowing he can still get me, but I need the space. I need to breathe. I need to watch my mouth. “But I worry about the threats. And who this Hank is. Why did he have a bomb planted?”
“The golden question.” He tilts his head. “Why do you worry about the threats? You’re here. Within the embrace of the Murphys.”
“Because did you forget that someone broke into my place?”
And because of Tatiana.
He watches me a moment. “Are you sure Paddy didn’t have accomplices?”
“If he did, I don’t know them. He wasn’t interested in the bratva; he wanted in on his own family’s bratva.”
