Page 27 of Claimed By the Mobster
“Yes. Thank you.” He holds up his phone and speaks into it. A voice message maybe? Or speech to text? “Artem, I’m thinking of offering Lina a job. If you don’t want that, you should call me.”
I frown, and Ben reaches over, smoothing my brow with his thumb. “Nothing’s going to happen to your friend, don’t worry. But it was recently impressed on me how significant a little pressure on a girl can affect a man.”
Me. He means me. I open my mouth to ask him what happened, but he beats me to it.
“You’re a clever girl. Much cleverer than the Bratva think, Anwyn. Are you willing to work very hard for me, darling?”
“Always.” I’d do anything for Benedict Crosse.
“Then I have an idea of how you can come with me. As Queen of Westminster.”
* * *
We arrive at the warehouse designated as a neutral place to meet just as the colours fade into grey night. Ben has been drilling me all day. I started off not having ever touched a gun, but now I know every part by name, how to keep my arms braced, and I’ve taken it from the holster on my thigh a hundred times or more.
Exactly as Ben predicted, they’re all patted down by the Bratva goon, and one of the Westminster men does the same to the Bratva men. Everyone is unarmed.
But when the Bratva goon approaches me, Ben growls, dark and feral.
“Touch my fiancée and it will be the last thing you do.”
So low and possessive, his rumbling words send a bolt of pure longing from my throat to my pussy.
Gulping, the goon backs off.
And the gun remains in its holster on my leg. An insurance policy, Ben said. There is a plan A, and although he explained it to me, I’m… Sceptical. I guess having no family myself, I can’t imagine betraying them.
The Bratva delegation is five men. The aforesaid goon and a man about my age stand together. My ex-boyfriend Tom, eyes wide and mouth taped, a man behind him. He’s as tall as Ben, with black hair and I think they’re about the same age. Attractive if you like jawlines so square you can cut yourself on them.
Then the Bratva kingpin stands alone. A little shorter than the other man, he has all the same features but they’re mixed up differently. Two plants with lush green leaves and red berries—one poisonous, one sweet.
“What do you want, Victor?” Benedict asks from next to me.
“Your territory for your boy.” Victor flicks his fingers at Tom, who is shoved to his knees by the taller man. He catches Ben’s eye above my head, and there’s a tense moment. The younger Bratva man is looking at the floor, seemingly impotently angry, eyes hard.
“That’s unreasonable and you know it, Victor.” Ben is completely unflustered. Calm. You wouldn’t know he paced this afternoon, or patiently showed me time after time after time how to pull the safety off the gun I’m wearing, even as I got it wrong repeatedly.
“You want me to compromise?” Victor has a strong Russian accent, whereas his brother’s is less noticeable. “I compromise. Half of Westminster for half of the boy.”
He barks out a cynical laugh that makes it clear he’d enjoy cutting someone in half.
“I keep the half with The Busy Bean coffee shop. My fiancée works there, you know. I’ve been keeping a close eye on it. Sweet place. But you wouldn’t have any access to it. No crossing the lines at all. For anyone.” Ben’s gaze flits between the other two Bratva family members.
“Don’t,” the second man says, eyes flashing.
“Shut up, Artem. If I want your opinion I’ll ask for it.”
Oh, that’s Artem. Ben said he was Victor’s brother.
“Enough talk of coffee shops,” Victor snaps and points the barrel of his gun to the back of Tom’s head. Tom is trembling and his grey eyes are brimming with fear as he looks to his father for comfort. To Benedict.
My stomach plummets as I realise my ex-boyfriend might die because Ben prioritised me instead of him.
This isn’t going as I expected from the plan. Why has he allowed it to happen? Surely Tom is in danger?
I attempt to assess the situation, even though I have literally zero experience with this. I could pull out my gun and try to kill Victor, as Ben showed me. But if I miss, Tom will definitely die. If I hit Victor, will he be able to shoot Tom before he goes down? I have no idea. This is not my area of expertise. I am significantly better with plants.
If only the mafia all sat down and resolved their differences with who was faster at genetic sequencing, I would be a perfect asset to Ben. As it is, I’m a liability.
