Page 86 of My Mafia Queen

That’s my girl.

Not a muscle moves on her face.

“All right,” Vadim says after spending a moment studying her face. “Let’s go inside,” he adds, gesturing at the door.

Moments later, we enter a vast space with gambling tables, bars, dancers, and a lot of glitter.

* * *

CARMINA

What the fuck was that?

What is with these Russian men? They give me shivers whenever I look their way.

I thought Boris was bad, but this one, Vadim Ivanov, seems just obsessed with me. I thought the awkward moment when Damaso had introduced us was a fluke, an accident, but no.

I don’t know what he knows or wants to know about me, but whenever Damaso flicks his eyes away from me, I get this weird sensation that someone’s watching me.

And sure enough, the man who runs this place studies me with sickening curiosity. Had I known I’d be such a hit with him, I would’ve picked a different dress and covered myself up.

I’m truly not looking for this kind of attention.

There’s nothing wrong with my dress, though.

A lot of scantily dressed women parade in front of us––dancers and guests––yet none of them catch his eye.

He gives off unfriendly vibes, which shouldn’t surprise me.

Damaso has already warned me this man is one of his worst enemies.

I sense resentment in his gaze and also something darker, evil, which isn’t entirely unfamiliar to me.

I experienced it when Beau and his goons broke into my house, and he wanted to pick me up, drag me to some place, fuck me, give me to his friends, and then trade me for a car or a bag of cash.

I believed every word he said to me because I couldn’t dismiss it as being cray cray or improbable.

I know the world I’m swirling in.

I didn’t pick this world.

It had picked me.

And I’m sure I’m not alone.

Girls like me live lives like mine all the time.

These men––people like Beau, his friends, even the mechanic who sold me my first car, Boris, and this guy, Vadim––are like vultures circling and keeping an eye on their prey all the time.

It just happens that they can’t touch me right now because of Damaso Salla.

But, if they got the chance to grab me when he wasn’t around, I don’t want to imagine what they’d do to me.

They’re not only greedy little dicks who foment at their mouths. They hate me because he protects me. And they hate him with a passion, but that goes without saying.

No wonder they’re so hostile.

I don’t leave Damaso’s side the entire evening, and he warningly glances at Vadim several times.

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