Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 450(@200wpm)___ 360(@250wpm)___ 300(@300wpm)
“All right, Sergei. You really don’t know Valentin? You just happened to show up here with your Russian buddies and start throwing money around?”
He looks nervous. Everyone is staring at us now. All the mean-looking Russian men suddenly seem chagrined and quiet. I glare at them, starting to get really pissed.
They’re not even good at this.
“Please, Miss Karine, we’re only following orders.”
“Oh, I fucking knew it!” I throw up my hands, pissed as hell. “Tell Valentin to leave me alone.”
His face goes panicked. “I cannot do that. I mean, you do not understand. We’re only here to give you money. Look—” He pulls out a stack of fifties from his jacket pocket.
There has to be a few thousand dollars there.
“Jesus fucking—” I back away, staring at the money. I can already see myself gleefully paying off bills, chiseling away at the mountain of debt, buying groceries. “Get that away from me.”
Sergei quickly shoves the money back in his pocket. “He means well. Valentin is a good man. You’ll see.”
I grab the tip money they’ve already given me and shove it back at him. “Take it.”
“Please, I can’t.” He looks pained and glances at the other men. They’re trying very hard to pretend like they’re not listening. “He’ll be angry.”
“Take the money, Sergei.”
“Burn it. Flush it. I don’t care. I just can’t go back with it.” He jumps off his stool like it’s on fire.
That’s when I realize he’s terrified.
This isn’t just some harmless prank to him. It’s not like a normal boss asking an employee to do a job.
Sergei looks like he’s genuinely afraid for his life right now.
As if failing this task will get him murdered.
What the fuck am I involved in right now?
“We’ll go, just please, keep the money. Valentin is a good man.” Sergei turns away and snaps at the other men in Russian. They stand and avoid my gaze as they file out of the bar.
What a fucking nightmare.
I grab my phone and snap off a quick text to Valentin’s number.
Karine: Don’t you ever send your goons to my place of business again, do you hear me? You could get me fired.
Valentin: I only wanted to help you. It seems as though my men failed.
I glance up at the door and think about the real fear in Sergei’s expression.
Karine: They didn’t do anything wrong, okay? I figured it out. If you punish them, I’ll be even more pissed.
Valentin: Don’t tell me how to run my business, malishka. I don’t tolerate failure.
Karine: I don’t tolerate assholes. Leave the guys alone.
Karine: And leave me alone too!
I delete the next text and toss my phone back down onto the bar, fighting back a wave of frustration.
He’s not going to let this go, and I don’t know how to make him stop.
Chapter 8
Karine
Merrick gives me a skeptical look over the rim of his glass. “And this is a problem how, exactly?”
“He’s sending random criminals to my bar.” I pour his second martini and slide it across the bar. I’m still livid from the night before and haven’t been able to calm down. “It’s almost worse than, you know, storming into your studio while I’m naked.”
“Please, darling, you enjoyed that.”
I glare at him. For a second, I wonder if he’s got a camera in that studio. But no, Merrick’s too lazy for security. “If my manager realized what was happening, he would’ve fired my ass.”
“Fired you? For driving business?”
“Don’t joke around. It’s not funny.” I wipe my hands on a damp towel and struggle to keep myself from freaking out. “How serious is this guy? I mean, how much trouble am I in?”
Merrick shakes his glass from side to side, nearly dribbling alcohol on the bar top. “Hard to say, exactly.” His lips press together. “But from what I heard, he’s pretty big time.”
“Big time, how? Stop bullshitting and tell me, please.”
“Okay, darling, fine. I asked around this afternoon and had one hell of a time finding anyone willing to talk about Valentin Zaitsev. But there’s this lovely boy that works at the Roger’s Gallery, you know the kind, artsy with wonderful pouty—”
“Skip the character sketch and tell me what you heard.”
Merrick yawns and waves me off. He leans in, voice lowering. “According to my boy, Valentin is Russian Bratva. And not just any Russian Bratva, but allegedly, he’s the Pakhan.”
I stare at him blankly. “What the hell’s a bratva?”
“It’s what the Russians call a crime family, and the Pakhan is the tippy top of the hierarchy. He’s like the Don, darling.”
I let that sink in. Blood drains from my face. I knew Valentin was dangerous—I knew he was connected to some very shady and very bad things—but this is way bigger than I could’ve guessed.
Russian crime family. The boss of a Russian crime family.
He wants me to marry into that?
And I had unprotected sex with him?