Page 9 of Shackled By the Mafia Boss

She may hang around to get something out of me. On second thoughts, I can hang around her and with luck, I can hinder her investigation and get her to warm my bed.

“Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way,” I say, almost to myself, more than to Dominic. "What if this has something to do with the missing shipment from a year ago?”

It’s been exactly twelve months since we killed Kirill and Peterson. Alexei hasn’t been able to find the missing shipment and Peterson’s last words are stuck like glue in my head.

My brother insists it was just the words of a man afraid of death, but what if someone else was behind it?

What if that same person is trying to take us out by ratting to the cops about our illegal businesses?

Dominic's gaze sharpens, catching the glint of suspicion. “What are you getting at?”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Heard from one of the boys at the club that this detective, Jane Sullivan, was sniffing around way before Friday night. I don’t think this is just about the gun found at the crime scene. Maybe this is someone’s way of sending a message. They want to rattle us, make us slip up."

Dominic's jaw tightens, his expression growing darker. “And how do you suggest we deal with this situation?”

I contemplate the question, my fingers tapping rhythmically against the glass on the table. “Whoever it is, they’re hiding in the shadows so I suspect they’re cowards andcan’t take us head on. We need to get ahead of them, find out who they are.”

“And the detective?”

My chest tightens and I swallow hard. “If she's a threat, we eliminate her. If not, we use the information I can get from her to our advantage.”

He regards me silently, surprised I would even suggest hurting a woman when it’s against our honor code as made men. “She’s a woman.”

But that’s the difference between me and my brother. Despite his brutality and temperament, he’s still partly human.

Me, on the other hand, I’m more practical. I would never hurt a woman unless they stood in my way. Petty emotions just aren’t my thing. Keeping my family safe is my priority. “Not if she gets in my way.”

“You're playing with fire, Marcus. Be careful not to get burned.”

I offer a wry smile, acknowledging the truth in his words. “When have I ever been afraid of fire or getting burned?”

The room falls into a momentary silence, the only sound the distant hum of city life beyond the concealing walls of Dominic’s mansion.

Dominic breaks the quiet, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “What did you do with Enzo?”

“Antonio roughed him up a little too much. Might take a while before he gets on his feet again.”

“That big dummy,” he cusses. “Next time you visit, let him know I’m not overlooking that much money. He should be dead for even daring to steal from me.”

“He will be, after he repays it.”

“Good.” He stands up from the couch and walks to the cellar. He’s holding an extra glass and a bottle of scotch whenhe returns. “Alexei suggested we strengthen our alliance by marriage.”

“As long as I’m not the one getting married.”

He smirks and fills our glasses. “You don’t have a choice if I order it.”

“You know I can’t be good to a woman. I’m an asshole. And Vincent’s too busy drinking and having threesomes every night to even consider marriage.”

Dominic's lips curl into a sly grin, a glimmer of the cunning strategist that lies beneath the violet suit. “Relax. We may be allies, but he’s still part of the Bratva and we’re not taking that risk. I made a better offer.”

“What could be a better offer than an alliance by marriage?” Dominic comes up with all sorts of mischievous ideas. I can’t trust that smirk on his face.

“I offered him our protection.”

I think for a moment. “Not so bad.” For someone who’s been away from New York most of his life and was hated by his own father, he’ll need more protection than an average guy who ascended the Bratva throne.

Considering his father had many allies and his younger half-brother was Kirill’s preference, it won’t be easy to win the respect and trust of the Bratvas. But the kid is gutsier than he appears, and I’m fairly certain he’ll make a name for himself. With our help of course.

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