Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (23)

She falls. He stays still as a statue.

“I thought you’d be the nicer brother,” she growls up at him from the floor.

He chuckles. “I’m not surprised. Everyone makes that assumption. I’m flattered, though, really.”

“It’s not a compliment if it’s not true!”

“Oh, but it is true,” he insists as he lifts her up from the ground. “You’ll see that soon enough.”

“Or how about now?” I suggest.

I’m done with the games. Time’s wasting. Coming here like this was a risk anyway, and now I’m ready to get the fuck out.

So I step forward as Cami is still regaining her balance, scoop her up, and throw her over my shoulders like a sack of potatoes. She starts to scream and pound my pack with her flailing fists. I barely feel it.

We burst through the main doors and out into the lobby. People look, but if anyone was considering intervening in this debacle, they change their mind as soon as they see the ice-cold cruelty in my eyes.

I’m not a man to be fucked with.

Cami will learn that soon enough.

My Trasco armored Mercedes-Benz is parked right outside, flanked by a handful of my men. One of them opens the door to the rear compartment.

“Where are you taking me?” Camila cries from somewhere over my shoulder.

“Home,” I answer simply.

The boys snicker as I toss her down on the cushioned reclinable seat and quickly fasten the seat belt across her chest. I’d be lying if I don’t admit that I enjoy that part quite a bit.

When she’s buckled in, I grab her face in my hand and turn her towards me. “Sit quiet and enjoy the ride, kiska,” I snarl.

Then I step back and slam the door in her face.

Bogdan is waiting for me on the other side of the vehicle. “Congrats, sobrat,” he says.

“Shut up.”

His smile only gets wider. “She’s gotten even more beautiful over the last six years,” he points out.

I narrow my eyes at him. “Do you have a point?”

He shrugs. “Just saying. As far as forced marriages go, you lucked out.”

“You can ride in the second Wrangler.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be an asshole!”

I shove him towards it. “It’ll leave without you if you’re not careful.”

“Ah, I see what it is. You want some alone time with your beloved. I’ll get out of your way. Still laughing, Bogdan walks off towards the Wrangler parked right behind the Benz.

Scowling, I get into the back beside Camila and tap the driver’s seat in front of me. The partition rolls up at once, cutting us off from the front of the vehicle and ensconcing us in the soundproof compartment.

“You realize this is abduction, right?” she asks as soon as we start moving.

“Abduction? I think you’re confused. You’re my wife. Where I go, you go.”

Her green eyes are bright with denial. “I am no such thing. If I go before any court of law and say that I was forced into marrying you, that makes this—whatever this is—null and void.”

“Good luck getting to any court,” I chuckle.

“You bastard!”

I smile at her passion. “You’re feistier than I remember.”

“Don’t you dare smile at me,” she hisses. “I may have fallen for your charm once, but it won’t happen again.”

“That sounds like a challenge, kiska.”

“You’re used to getting your own way, aren’t you?”

I shrug. “Men like me usually end up with what they want.”

“Figures.” She huffs and looks out her tinted windows. “If I scream, will anyone even hear me?”

“Afraid not.”

She sighs and relaxes into her seat. Fine by me. I pour myself a whiskey from the drink drawer and do the same, idly sipping as we meander through London towards my estate.

“Is it true?” Cami asks suddenly after a long silence.

“Is what true?”

“When the cops rescued me from that godawful cell in that horrible building, they told me that you were the don of the Vorobev Mafia.”

I glance at her. “It’s true. But you already knew that.”

She’s lost some color since walking into the courthouse. But apart from that, she’s taking it all in stride. A weaker woman would have been in hysterics at this point. But Camila just sits there, asking cogent questions and processing slowly.

It’s a little unsettling.

And also a little arousing.

“They told me you’ve killed countless men. Some women, too.”

I could explain and justify, but I don’t do either. “Both true.”

“They told me that you took over for your father, who was just as ruthless a don as you are.”

“True again.”

“They told me you make your money on illegal businesses that make billions every year.”

“That’s a bold-faced fucking lie,” I snarl. Then I relent and smirk. “Some of them are legal.”

She crosses her arms and broods. I continue drinking my whiskey.

“The men who took me that night… They took me because they thought I meant something to you,” she says.