Page 1 of Knocked up by the Mafia

Chapter 1 - Natalia

I can have one night of fun, right? I have been laying low since I killed that little rat Bruno Russo. His father, the powerful Don Russo from Sicily, was unimpressed by not only the murder of his child and heir apparent but also by the fact it cost him a lucrative deal with a North African warlord.

Ivan had wanted that contract, and as Bratva royalty and an organized killer, I saw it as a personal mission to ensure my Pukhan got what he wanted. Added to that, I was already in Europe when Ivan put out the request, so it was a simple trip for me to complete.

I had to flee, however. Russo and several other Dons placed a hefty price on my head, and eventually, I decided to fly to New York to lay low with my family.

Low I remained, keeping out of the public eye. I didn’t do anything that would get my name mentioned anywhere.

So I could take one night to celebrate my birthday, right?

I’m still staying with my brother at the moment, helping him with managing the books. It’s been a pleasant, quiet existence, but it’s my birthday today, and I want to do something special.

I start the day by having breakfast with my brother, who doesn’t mention my birthday at all. I don’t want to bring it up; it doesn’t matterthatmuch to me.

I slip my brother's credit card out of his wallet and ask one of his drivers to take me to some high-end clothing stores. I buy a couple of sexy outfits, courtesy of Evgenii, and some leather boots. I have my hair dyed black and curled, then head back to the house.

Evgenii has left to do work, and the cleaning staff continues their chores quietly. I go to my room and deposit my packages. It’s a quiet day. I have something for lunch, and I nap after that.

When I wake up, I check my phone. Evgenii has sent a message that he’ll be out for the evening. It doesn’t bother me; duty calls, I know that, so I go to shower and get dressed.

I wear black leather pants, new leather boots, and a low-cut top. I’ve grown my hair quite a bit, and it falls loosely in newly-styled curls down my back. I apply light makeup, eyeliner, mascara, and a slight blush. I then grab a leather jacket in case it gets cold and head out the door. I got a driver to drop me off near a new club called Bounce. I flash my ID at the burly man guarding the door, and he lets me in.

The people here are mostly younger than me. I find a spot at the bar and sit. I might dance a little later, but for now, I want a drink and see how things go.

“Rum and coke,” I call to the bartender over the loud rock music.

“Make that two.” I glance at the Irishman standing beside me. “I’ll cover both.”

I smile at the guy; his accent is sexy. He’s tall, probably fifteen to twenty years older than me. He looks at me with his bright blue eyes and a slight smirk on his face. “If you don’t mind, that is.”

Why not? It’s my birthday, after all. I smile and sit back. “Not at all. I think I deserve a birthday drink.”

“Happy birthday, lass.” He says as the bartender sets down the two glasses. We touch our classes together gently, keep our eyes trained on each other and have a sip. I smile and throw my hair back over my shoulder.

“What’s a pretty young lady like yourself doing out on your birthday alone? Are your friends still on their way?” he asks, playing with the glass in his hands.

“I’m not really one for groups.” I sip my drink again and turn slightly so I’m facing more toward him. “Yourself?”

“I’m sure you can tell I’m not from around here. Just popping past for some business, really. Thought I’d grab a drink and see what the nightlife is like in the great New York City.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Crowd out there might be a little young even for me.”

“And I’m not?” I ask curiously, raising my eyebrows.

He turns, leaning on his arm on the bar as he looks into my eyes. “You might be young, but you seem irresistible. There’s nothing sexier than a woman confident in her own company.”

I nod. “Then I look forward to getting to know you more…”

“Daniel,” he says, holding his hand out. Mine fits in his perfectly. “And you are?”

“Nat,” I say with a smirk. “Just Nat.”

“Well then, Nat, can I get you a shot for your birthday?” he flags down the bartender.

We talk very little about our professional lives, I prefer it that way, but we talk about the travels we’ve been on and share a few funny stories. I notice he gets closer and closer until we’re inches away from each other, talking in quiet voices in each other's ears. His hand holds mine, resting both hands on my leg. He uses his thumb to stroke the back of mine.

“It’s been magical, Nat,” he says. “I’d hate to leave it here at just this.”

“I would too, but I wouldn’t want you to have expectations of a relationship or….”

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