Nikolai: A Mafia Prince Romance (Russian Mob Chronicles Book 1)
Nikolai: A Mafia Prince Romance: Chapter 10

When the protests of my hungry tummy grow too great to ignore, I rise from the eating nook in the corner of my kitchen, shut down my laptop, then pace to my walk-in pantry. I’ve spent the last several hours weeding through the mammoth pile of evidence from Nikolai’s case that Mr. Fletcher emailed me this morning.

My determination to retain Nikolai as a client surpassed my jealousy when Mr. Fletcher’s brief contact granted me with an update on my brother’s defense. Like all knowledgeable defense attorneys, the circumstances of my brother’s arrest, and the swiftness of his court case, have Mr. Fletcher’s interest immensely piqued. So much so, his sleep was as lacking as mine.

My brother went from being a free man to incarcerated in a maximum-security prison in under a month. If that isn’t cause for an appeal, I don’t know what is. Mr. Fletcher’s guarantee he won’t stop working on my brother’s case until his verdict is overturned had me pledging I’ll do everything in my power to secure Nikolai as a client for Schluter & Fletcher. Although my promise wasn’t as determined as Mr. Fletcher’s, he accepted it as if it was.

While having a lazy stretch, I enter my pantry, eager to hunt down the emergency-only candy bars I keep hidden in the back. This is an urgent situation. Three meals dwindling to one has my blood sugars declining as much as my ego has the past three hours.

Although I’m grateful for Roman’s guarantee that the kitchen would be a safe alternative to the all-night bender occurring in my living area, I’m still disappointed Nikolai shunted me from the festivities. I feel like I’m in high school all over again. I’m fine to hang out with at lunch, but not popular enough to secure an invitation to social events outside of school.

My hunt for the sugar-crammed snacks halts when a shimmer of light captures my attention. I barely see its faint blink behind the year’s supply of rice my mom purchased during our first grocery trip in Las Vegas. She’s always been a “store it for a rainy day” type of person.

Tinned fruit, cans of Spam, and a bag of rice that could feed a village are stacked in the back corner of my pantry. If it wasn’t for the vibrancy of the screen in the dimly-lit space, I would have never spotted it.

After glancing over my shoulder to ensure I’m alone, I remove the device from its hiding spot. It’s the size of an iPad mini but three times its thickness. It reminds me of the surveillance instruments used in war movies. It’s so sturdy, a tank could run over it, and it wouldn’t buckle in the slightest.

Unease builds in my gut when recognition dawns on why the footage displayed on the screen seems familiar. It’s broadcasting a live feed of my living room. I know it’s live as my apartment has never seen so much action.

The noise booming through my kitchen door the past several hours gave me a hint of what was happening, but this footage showcases the ruckus in a whole new light. It’s even more villainous than I presumed.

I take a moment to settle my anger before dropping my eyes to the command prompts on the bottom of the screen. I’ve never been overly techy, but my lack of computer skills isn’t an issue with this device. It’s as basic as they come. It has the standard buttons every girl knows: play, pause, rewind, and fast forward.

The only thing I can’t fathom is how to switch the screen between the numerous surveillance areas broadcasting in little boxes at the top of the monitor. The main image televised is of my living area, but I’m more interested in the live feed in the top left-hand corner. The one that shows a shirtless Nikolai sprawled across the bed in my guest room—all alone.

I inwardly cheer when my frantic taps on the screen switch the feed to the one I want. I watch Nikolai in silence for several moments, shocked he seems pleased at being excluded from the festivities. His arm is braced across his eyes, and his chest is rising and falling in a rhythm that indicates he is asleep. He looks comfortable in my domain, as if he has always belonged here.

I guess his laid-back approach shouldn’t be surprising. From what I’ve read the past few hours, he has barely had a moment of quiet the past fifteen years. If he’s not dodging prosecution, he’s being groomed to become the next King of the Russian Mafia.

I honestly don’t know which fact is more disturbing. Usually, it takes great respect for a son to follow in his father’s footsteps. My dad was immensely proud when my eldest brother, followed in his shoes—but Nikolai didn’t have a normal upbringing. He grew in the shadows of a cold-hearted and vindictive man.

Vladimir Popov is a vile, worthless man who doesn’t deserve to share the same air as his numerous children. The hideous things I unearthed about him the past two hours are stomach-churning. There are numerous reports of him torturing, maiming, and beating his own flesh and blood, so imagine the atrocity he inflicts on people he doesn’t consider family.

Although Nikolai’s extensive criminal record is shocking, it’s now understandable. He was raised by a monster. It doesn’t excuse his behavior, but it’s a plausible defense any attorney would be foolish to overlook. It swayed my opinion on him immensely, so who’s to say it won’t do the same with a jury of his peers?

After taking longer than I care to admit stalking Nikolai, my finger moves to the rewind button. With unwarranted jealousy still strangling my heart, I’m incapable of harnessing my curiosity for a second longer. If this surveillance device was installed during my trip to the grocery store, it may reveal the reason for Nikolai’s obsessive showering regimen.

I’m just about to tap on the rewind button when the creak of a door sounds through the device. Two scantily clad women enter Nikolai’s room, their faces a unique mix of fear and excitement. Since Nikolai is sleeping, he fails to respond to their sneaky approach.

When they reach the foot of his bed, they peer at each other, soundlessly discussing their next move. Bile burns the back of my throat when they pull their midriff shirts over their heads before slipping their skirts down their thighs.

In sync, they crawl onto the mattress, one on each side of Nikolai’s slumbering frame. Nikolai stirs when they rake their nails through the faint hairs trailing from his belly button to the seam of his jeans. Their pace is slow and teasing, but leaves no suspicions of their intentions.

Blood roars to my ears when the brunette on Nikolai’s right unpops the button on his jeans and slides the fly down. With her index finger pressed against her lips, she encourages the blonde to slip her hand into Nikolai’s briefs. She does without protest, her excitement unmissable even when projected through a grainy monitor.

I snap my eyes to the floor, mortified when Nikolai releases a faint moan from their contact. I’m bombarded with sick jealousy, making it hard for me to breathe. I have no claim to Nikolai, but it’s the fight of my life not to storm out of the kitchen and drag those women off him. I’m consumed with such unbridled jealousy, I honestly feel ill. The slosh sitting in my belly is winding up my throat, begging to be released, and my entire body is shaking.

I jump in fright when a furious Russian roar booms through the security apparatus’s speakers. “Get the fuck out! You were told this domain was out of bounds.”

With my heart in my throat, I return my eyes to the screen. Nikolai’s face lines with anger as he jumps off his bed like it’s on fire. While throwing a shirt over his torso, his icy blue eyes shoot daggers at the two females frozen in the middle of the mattress.

His unnamed companions’ bewildered expressions grow when he grips the tops of their arms and forcefully removes them from his room. Although it would have been politer for him to wait until they were dressed, I can’t stop the dash of glee surging through me. I don’t love his beastly disrespect for women; I’m just appreciating the contents of my stomach staying in their rightful spot. Yeah, right.

The women stand frozen outside Nikolai’s door, watching him snag their clothing from the floor before tossing them at their feet.

“Disobey me again, and I’ll send you to live with Yakor,” Nikolai warns, his words hoarse from his unexpected wakening. “He’ll beat the disrespect right out of you.”

Fear strikes the brunette’s features, but it doesn’t stop her from saying, “Nikolai, darling, it’s me, Alyna. I brought Luyca—one of your favorites.” She stares at Nikolai in shock, utterly baffled by his rejection.

She isn’t the only one stunned. After spending the past several hours knee-deep in Nikolai’s private life, I was certain he’d welcome their attention with open arms. Nikolai’s life has been splashed across the papers for the world to see his entire adulthood, and it’s obvious his escapades with the opposite sex are as extensive as his criminal tendencies.

Nikolai glares into the brunette’s eyes, his stare hot enough to melt ice. “I’m. Not. Interested.” He growls each word with spine-chilling enunciation.

After issuing another threat using solely his eyes, he slams his bedroom door shut. I watch him in silence, numb with an equal amount of shock and euphoria.

Did he reject them for me? Or. . .

My inner monologue trails off when Nikolai suddenly glances up. Just like the afternoon of his arrest, he stares straight at me, his gaze pulse-quickening and wrathful. The accuracy of his stare is shockingly precise, and even through a computer device, it makes me squirm with need.

My heart thwacks my ribcage when the most wickedly delicious smile stretches across his face mere seconds before he strides out of his room. My stomach gargles, warning me I’m moments away from his arrival.

As I fight to switch the live feed back to its original screen, my pulse thuds in my ears. The device is as uncooperative as my heart has been the past sixteen hours.

“Come on, please,” I mumble when the device remains frozen on Nikolai’s room.

My heart rate spikes when the creak of my kitchen door filters into the pantry.

Crap!

In a flurry, I switch off the surveillance device and store it in its rightful place, hopeful its restart will take it back to its original screen. My eyes frantically dart around the pantry, seeking an item I can pretend I was searching for before I pivot on my heels and exit my hiding space. Although I can’t see the person whose shadow is expanding halfway across the tiled floor, the prickling of my nape identifies him.

“Hey,” I greet Nikolai, whose shoulder is propped on the wall opposite the pantry. “Hungry?”

Ignoring the roasting heat of his suspicious glare, I pace to the stove to prepare the sour cream and chives pasta packet I found lodged in the back of the pantry.

He remains quiet, his gaze never leaving mine as I secure the milk, butter, and jug of water from the fridge. His stare has me burning up everywhere, but I act unresponsive. He doesn’t need more fuel stoking his over-stacked fire.

I’ve just dropped a scoop of butter into a cup of milk when the warmth of a torso heats my back. ‘You went to the store for an hour, and all you came back with was a box of pasta?’ He is standing so close, his breath leaves a circle of condensation on my neck.

“No.”

My reply is choppy from the excited shudder running down my spine. Even knowing I shouldn’t be attracted to Nikolai doesn’t change the facts. He is a handsome man any red-blooded woman would have a hard time ignoring.

“There are ample supplies in the fridge if you’re hungry,” I advise, nudging my head in that direction. Thankfully, this time around my sentence comes out confidently.

Nikolai gathers my hair to the side, leaving my neck exposed to his five o’clock shadow. I try to act unaffected by his closeness, but the goosebumps on my nape give away my excitement.

‘You smell good enough to eat. Perhaps I should eat you?’ he murmurs into my ear, his voice sinful enough to poison an ethical mind. It’s husky and drenched with sexual ambiguity.

I take a few seconds to calm the wildfire brewing in my sex before stammering out, “I doubt I’d be nutritious enough to sustain your appetite for long.” I aim for my tone to be playful, but it has a dash of bitterness in it.

My contradictory responses can’t be helped. Nikolai is lavishing me with attention I’d never tire of, but his unexpected arrival came with more than I bargained for. Not only is my house being desecrated by drunken fools and topless women, my apartment has been bugged with surveillance cameras. The anger thickening my veins right now could push me into coronary failure, and don’t even get me started on the unknown brunette clinging to Nikolai upon my return from the store.

He rejected the two unnamed beauties’ advances, but was that for me, or because he was exhausted from his earlier guest’s antics? The way the pretty brunette was cozying up to him shows they’re more than friends, but hours of research has left me no closer to unearthing their connection.

Although she was spotted in numerous surveillance photos with Nikolai the past three years, her identity is better protected than a bank vault. I wasted valuable time I should have used on Nikolai’s case, and I still have no clue who she is.

“Is this sexual tension or anger?” Nikolai asks, noticing how tight my shoulders are.

“Both,” I grumble before I can stop my words.

He laughs into my neck, stupidly exciting my core even more. “I can fix that.” He grinds his stiffening crotch against my ass, ensuring I can’t mistake his solution. “All you need to do is ask,” he confides before sucking my earlobe into his mouth.

My knees curve inward as the lust warming my veins thickens. For a man who has a flurry of women vying to warm his bed, his eagerness to nibble on my neck makes me feel treasured, but it isn’t persuasive enough to diminish my anger.

“And my other dilemma? What’s your solution for that?” My eyes stray to the door, which is doing a poor job of concealing the ruckus occurring in my living room.

I sigh softly, disturbed I let my heart speak before my brain. I should be demanding an explanation for the surveillance devices installed in my apartment without my permission, not seeking a solution to stop more naked women from sneaking into Nikolai’s room.

Nikolai’s lips freeze halfway down my neck before his eyes mimic the direction of my gaze. “They’re my men, Ahren. They go where I go.” If it weren’t for the nick of disappointment in his tone, the tartness of his reply would have agitated me more.

“And the women?” My question leaves no doubt that I’m enraged with jealousy. “Do they go where you go as well?”

Even though I can’t see him, I know he’s smiling. I can feel it deep within my bones.

“You’re as sexy as fuck when you’re jealous, Ahren,” he barely whispers, his voice a throaty growl.

“I’m not jealous,” I fight back, rolling my eyes.

Acting like he didn’t hear a word I spoke, his finger treks from my ear to my collarbone. “Your skin flames with heat when your little green monster raises its head.” The cockiness radiating out of him doubles when the skin he traces blushes with a vibrant pink hue. “Most men would think you are embarrassed, but I know the real cause for your blooming color and seductive scent.”

The air in my lungs leaves in a brutal grunt when his hand brushes the back of my right knee. He barely misses two hideous scars no amount of makeup can hide. “Unlike your face, this area only flames when you’re angry.” He stops for a second, his breathing coming out in ragged pants. “Or turned on.”

Hotness spreads through me, stunned he’s been watching me so closely he’s already learned the prompts of my body. With my pasty white coloring, it only takes a crude comment to instigate a horrid case of blushing, but only those closest to me know the back of my knees gives away the real reason for my flushed appearance.

My body temperature triples when Nikolai bends his knees to meet me eye to eye, “I sure fucking hope you’re blushing now because you’re turned on, Ahren. I’m not a patient man, and I’m beyond ready to have you beneath me.”

I try to speak. Nothing but air bubbles come out. I’m stunned and incredibly aroused a man as handsome as Nikolai wants me, but I can’t act on the prompts of my body. My heart and brain need to speak the same language. Right now, that isn’t happening. All I hear is confused gobbledygook. I’m a smart and intelligent woman, but all my commonsense seems to become null and void in Nikolai’s presence.

Unappreciative of the awkward silence, Nikolai spins me around to face him. His movements are so quick, I don’t have the chance to protest before I’m facing him head on.

When his hankering eyes lock with mine, the heat roaring through my body becomes unbearable. His eyes are shining with pure, rampant lust, leaving no doubt every word he spoke is true.

I embarrassingly squirm, incapable of controlling the manic throb between my legs. I’m both disturbed and nervous by my response.

Reveling in my capricious reaction, Nikolai groans, “If I were a man who took what he wanted without asking, I’d be fucking you where you stand, proving there’s no reason for your jealousy.”

A thousand wicked thoughts stream through my mind when he steps closer to me, filling the tiny gap of air between us. It’s a struggle to fight off the lust burning me alive when he murmurs, “There’s only one woman I want wrapped around my cock, Ahren. It isn’t my sister.”

“The brunette was your sister?” I blubber out, my words high with dazed excitement.

He doesn’t respond to my question. He doesn’t need to. I can read the truth in his eyes. That’s why they had such an obvious connection. They’re related—by blood!

The heat on my neck creeps to my cheeks when his finger glides over my budded nipple. It blooms even harder under his touch. He smiles, reveling in my body’s inability to deny his touch.

“The good girls always want to tame the bad boys. But what happens when the good girl likes the bad boy just the way he is, but she’s too afraid to admit it?”

Stealing my chance to reply, he takes a step back, freeing me from throwing my internship down the toilet.

“Soon, Ahren. Very soon,” Nikolai murmurs when he hears the groan I failed to stifle from the loss of his contact.

Smirking a grin that adds to the mess between my legs, he snags the unopened pasta off the counter and moseys to the pantry. His steps are as arrogant as the pompous gleam in his eyes. Just before he enters, he spins back around to face me.

“Perhaps if I fill your stomach, you’ll let me gorge on you.”