Page 3 of The Boss's Revenge

Kira stared at me, seeming to make her mind up about something, before nodding slowly. “You’re quite the gentleman, aren’t you? You like to play a woman’s knight in shining armor? You can’t say you didn’t bring this on yourself.”

I frowned at her, puzzled by her words before a loud, male voice called over the sounds of whispered crying and fearful murmurs. People were huddled in groups around the club and the music had been shut off. I needed to take care of this, but I was worried about Kira.

“Kira! Kira Navrakova – come out now, before I kill every single person in here to find you.” The deep male voice sent alarm down my spine.

Kira sighed loudly and pushed at my chest. “Move, I have to go.”

“Are you crazy, you can’t go. Just stay here.”

“No, I have to go. He’s waiting for me and he won’t give up.”

“Are you telling me you know this madman?”

She nodded, her eyes cast downward, as she pushed herself to her feet. “He’s my father.”

CHAPTER 2

Kira

Pushing away Rocco’s strong, grasping hands, I straightened and turned to look at the entrance. Just like I’d imagined, Omer stood casually, his men, idiot thugs, surrounding him. I hadn’t seen him in at least a year, since I’d run away to New York and pretended that Konstantin was going to marry me. Omer didn’t care what kingpin got the prize of his untouched daughter, only that he profited from it.

Omer’s eyes landed on me. “There you are.”

“I see you heard about Konstantin’s engagement?” I pushed away from Rocco and sauntered out into the middle of the dance floor.

“Hard not to. Of course, I thought he was already engaged to you, so it was confusing. Still telling lies, Kira?”

I knew better than to answer that. “I might have lied about being engaged but not about being attached. I can still bring you a better match than old Igor Vasily,” I told him, sounding more confident than I felt. Here it was, the moment of truth. Since I’d cut Rocco Luciano’s face a few weeks ago, the solution to my problem seemed to appear like magic. He was a well-connected man, rich, and powerful and his brother ruled half the city. He was a match my father would accept.

And most importantly of all, he was quietly kind in ways he thought no one noticed. He let me go that night, with barely a chase, when he could have run me down and given me a scar to match his. He had shown me mercy when all I’d ever known was violence and manipulation. I might have fallen a little in love with him that night, but not enough to leave him out of my plans. Instead, he’d presented himself as the perfect mark, and I wouldn’t spare him.

The only fly in the ointment was the fact that in all the nights that I’d been coming here, he hadn’t spoken to me, oh, and I’d also cut up his pretty boy face. I was sure I wasn’t his type, and yet, he had solidified my plan the second he had asked if I needed help. I did need help, and there was only one way I could think of getting it.

“Attached to who?”

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I stuck out a hand to Rocco, who’d risen along with me. His hand held his gun, and he didn’t look afraid of my father. Of course, Luciano men had already surrounded Omer’s meager forces, but there were civilians here, and it would ruin the reputation of the club to have a shootout around innocent bystanders.

“Him. Rocco Luciano.” The words seemed to echo in the space.

Omer looked at Rocco, licking his thick lips, no doubt imagining the connections the match would make. “He’s a Luciano?”

I nodded. I stepped forward, as Rocco went to reach for me. “Yes, the only unmarried one.”

“Kira,” Rocco growled at me, his face dark. He stepped forward, and the sound of gun safeties clicking off filled the space. “What are you doing?”

“You said to ask you if I needed help,” I reminded him in a near whisper. He stared at me, furious, and uncertain.

I swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” I muttered to him, before turning back to my father.

Omer had sauntered across the floor and was now within arm’s reach. “And what makes you think Vincenzo Luciano would accept a bride like you? I’m sure he has plans for someone of his brother’s pedigree,” Omer said bluntly. He had never had any illusions about his importance in the mafia world or my appeal, it seemed. He lived in Russia most of the time and didn’t concern himself with matters in America. If I went with him, I’d be back in freezing Moscow and married to Igor, the pig, within a week. I had no choice. I had to sell my father on my relationship with Rocco.

“He’ll accept it when he finds out…” I took a breath, steeling myself. Putting a hand to my abdomen, I glanced back at Rocco. “I’m already carrying a Luciano heir. I’m pregnant.”

Complete silence met that statement, and then a burst of activity. My father went to haul me forward, just as Rocco barked a command. Guns blazed for a hot moment, as I was ripped out my father’s rough grip, and tossed to the floor. I couldn’t see. The lights in the club seemed to waver, and the screams of the unknowing bystanders were deafening. In the crush, I knew that neither Omer nor Rocco’s men would be able to get a clear shot. I heard Rocco shouting in Italian, and I heard my father’s deep grunt. Forcing myself from the floor, I stared up and the sight that met my eyes stopped my heart.

Rocco was leaning toward me, with a hand extended to help me up. Omer had his gun pressed to Rocco’s temple. Rocco’s expression was murderous.

“Get up Kira. You need to take care of yourself. You’ve got the winning ticket inside you,” Omer gloated, smiling pridefully at me for the first time I could remember since I was a child.

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