Page 1 of Owned By her Enemy
1
LOTTE
The last time I left my father’s gold tower in London was over three years ago for my mother’s funeral. This time, it’s to an exclusive restaurant to meet with the new head of the Edmonton bratva mafia: Nikolai Edmonton.
If we had peace with our oldest rivals, I think I could persuade my father to let me go out. I’d have videos of real outdoor settings instead of the shimmering, filled backgrounds. I’d have a chance to sneak away. I’d be free.
And that’s why I talked my father into this meeting, and allowing me to join him. The restaurant we arrive at is in Lambeth territory, right in the centre of London. It’s been redecorated recently, and treads the fine line between old-world character and modern.
Nikolai is already sitting at a long table in a private dining room, an untouched glass of red wine at his fingertips.
“Bastard,” my father mutters. “He got here first. Now we look like the supplicants.”
Which we are. We have to stop Edmonton bleeding us dry, or the whole of Tottenham is going to crumble under its own weight.
He’s compelling, the new bratva kingpin. Nikolai Edmonton is what you’d find in a Wikipedia picture under the listing,London Mafia Bosses. He’s stone. Glistening, black stone. He has black hair with a slight curl, and short stubble shadowing his jawline, like we weren’t even worth the credit of him shaving.
His grey eyes, though, really are stone. Marble perhaps. In those eyes there are a thousand hues, and none. They’re mottled and the black pupils shine.
Power suits him. He’s slipped into the role of leader like it was as made for him as I’m certain that suit was. He’s been the head of the Edmonton Bratva for all of a month, and already established himself as brutal. Merciless.
First his uncle died. Then his brother’s death was reported as “accidental”, but there are rumours it was us, even though Nikolai benefitted. After that it got out that Nikolai executed five more of his family, and his lack of moral code was revealed. You don’t killfamily.
Yet something nudged at me to attempt this meeting. Perhaps it was just the success of my latest video, and the comment of my fan from the start, ListeningToHer, that this was my moment. ListeningToHer really believes in me, in a way that frankly I have given up on myself.
Nikolai skirts his gaze over my face with disinterest as my father and I sit.
Neither of them says anything, and despite the hubbub of chatter from the main restaurant leaking in through the walls into this private dining room, the tension is so thick it’s like we’re in soup. A waiter brings menus and we read in silence. He takes our orders and still there’s a hush.
Nikolai is playing a power game, waiting for us to offer the first greeting. But my father won’t. Knowing he’s in a weaker position makes him petty.Wemust have peace between our families though. If I could just get out a few times, I could find a way to escape. That means Edmonton and Tottenham must give up this stupid feud, so my father won’t have the excuse to keep me locked up any longer.
The waiting staff serves our starters, and my father pauses. For a second, I think no one will eat for fear of being poisoned. Then Nikolai takes one of his oysters in the shell, brings it to his lips, and slides the whole little bite into his mouth.
Those lips. Plush and wide and with a sinful tilt. He licks them as he finishes chewing and the satisfied look on his face would infuriate me if I could stop watching his neck. Mostly covered by his crisp white shirt, the black stubble and the hard lump of his Adam’s apple is compelling. I squeeze my thighs together under the table as my pussy heats.
Why does he have to be so gorgeous? Yeah, he’s my dad’s age, but that’s where the similarities end.David Tottenham has a blond combover he thinks no one has noticed, a poorly fitted suit, and a paunch.
I take after my mother. A pang of grief goes through me, familiar in its pain.Dark hair, dark brown eyes, skin that tans easily if I’m out in the sun.
Though being outside at all is rare for me now.
Nikolai reaches for another oyster, and I jerk my gaze to the goat cheese and asparagus salad before me. I can’t bear this.
“My condolences on your brother and father.” I didn’t even realise I was going to break the silence until I did. I gulp down a mouthful of wine, and surely, it’s the alcohol that warms me as our enemy directs his attention to my face.
Nikolai tilts his chin up and narrows his eyes.
“My condolences for the loss of your mother. She went the same way as my brother, I understand.”
There’s a beat when I can’t breathe. My chest seizes up and I seriously think I might die too. Because is he confessing what I think he is?
The arrogant expression on his face suggests, yes. I’m not misreading.
My father has told me time and time again that the reason I can’t leave the tower is because it’s too dangerous. That the bratva killed my mother, and Antonio her bodyguard, in a car bomb. We didn’t even have a body to bury.
And for three years, I’ve had my doubts. There’s no love between me and my father. But here this bratva bastard kingpin is, making it clear the cause is the same. The feud killed his brother and my mother.
“You dare offer sympathy,” my father growls. “When you…”
