Page 4 of The Boss's Revenge

I got up slowly, and Rocco straightened. His eyes remained on me, burning a hole through my face as I looked at my father.“Vincenzo will honor his brother’s actions, and see you two are wed, or lose his brother. He’s trespassed on my property and left something of his. You two will marry, or I’ll send this man’s body parts up town to Luciano territory piece by piece.” Omer dug his gun harder into Rocco’s temple. “Got it, Luciano?”

I tore my eyes from my father’s and finally found the courage to meet Rocco’s.

His darkly furious gaze burned me and my eye skittered away from his wrath.

“I’ve got it,” Rocco muttered.

A man approached behind him, binding his hands, as Rocco called to his second in command to stand down.

“Let’s go,” Omer said, not moving his gun from Rocco even an inch. I fell beside him, as we made our way to the exit of the club.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered to him, echoing my earlier words.

He was silent for a long moment beside me before speaking. “You aren’t yet,cara mia, but you will be.”

CHAPTER 3

Rocco

Anger clogged my throat, making it difficult to speak, as I sat beside Kira and her father. The elder Navrakov hadn’t moved his gun even an inch, and also hadn’t permitted any of my men to accompany us as we made our way to a rendezvous point. I could only imagine Vincenzo’s reaction when we got there.

I was breaking the most important rule for the youngest of a mafia dynasty; don’t embarrass the family, and I hadn’t even done anything. Kira avoided my gaze, looking out the tinted window studiously. Christ, she looked lovely in the streetlights. I wanted to wring her pretty little neck and bend her over my knee at the same time. She’d played me. I’d had absolutely no idea she’d been setting me up like this, and yet, I could feel the plastic edges of her ill-conceived plan. Time would prove her a liar, something she must have considered. Was she pregnant by someone else? Did she know something I didn’t?

Kira’s father was talking loudly to his driver so I took my chance when I could.

“What’s the play here,cara mia? My brother won’t agree to anything without proof,” I told her quietly. Omer continued to talk in a loud torrent of Russian, drowning out my words for anyone but Kira.

Kira flinched as if I’d struck her. The movement seemed so at odds with her usual untouchable veneer. Was she afraid of her father? Of the man he wanted her to marry in Russia? The thought was uncomfortable to consider. It seemed wrong that Kira Navrakova should be afraid of anyone.

“All you’re doing is delaying the inevitable, and I’m sure your father will be angrier after you lead him on this dance,” I pressed.

Her eyes flickered to mine for a moment, making my heartbeat thrum through my blood. “Changing your mind about helping me, baby Luciano?”

“Don’t say the word baby to me right now,” I growled at her, feeling oddly guilty. “There’s helping someone, and then there’s marrying a stranger who my family doesn’t approve of.”

She swallowed at that, her slender shoulders rising and falling quickly as if she was breathing fast. “I told you I was sorry, what more do you want?” Her words were tossed at me carelessly, and I nearly laughed.

“You’re sorry? That’s not good enough. Stop this now, before someone gets hurt.”

“That’s why I’m doing it… so someone doesn’t get hurt,” she blurted. A pink flush tinted her pale cheeks. It was the very first time I’d seen any kind of hot emotion make its way across her icily beautiful façade. She seemed painfully real at that moment.

“Who?” I pressed. “You?”

She didn’t answer, merely wrapped her arms around her middle, and looked out the window. She leaned forward and pressed one hot cheek against the cool glass, her eyes fluttered shut. There was such wistfulness in her expression, I couldn’t look away.

“We’re here, let’s get this party going!” Omer announced in broken English, and give me a toothy grin, revealing several gold teeth as he did.

“Yes, let's,” I said dryly, still watching Kira as we got out of the car.

The place for the meet was on the edge of Brighton Beach, Ivanov territory. Now that Kon had married Hana Song, he was an ally, however, he was also an old acquaintance of Omer Navrakov. It was a neutral meeting ground.

Vincenzo was already there, leaning against a shiny black town car, surrounded by Luciano men. The sight of him eased something in me.

“Out,” Omer said, digging his gun into my temple. I gritted my teeth, hating the powerless feeling, and left the car. Outside, early dawn was creeping across the horizon, painting the air a pale lavender color, far too whimsical for the dark business we were conducting.

“Navrakov, take your gun away from my brother’s head, or die,” Vincenzo’s voice rang out. His eyes flickered to a building beyond us, and I knew what he’d see. Snipers, already in position.

Omer laughed. “No, I don’t think I will. This is my bargaining chip, and I’m not letting him go. You wouldn’t risk it, and besides, this is neutral ground. Konstantin will answer for any bloodshed here.”

---