Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (46)

“You’re staying here?” I ask.

She gives me a knowing smile. “I am welcome, aren’t I, Isaak?”

“Of course,” I say instantly. Even a millisecond of hesitation will earn me endless grief.

She smiles. “Thank you, my boy. Are we having dinner together as a family?”

“Oh no, Mama,” Bogdan interjects evilly. “Isaak only has dinner with his wife now. Followed by helicopter rides around the city.”

Little shit.

Mama doesn’t comment at all.

She nods, purses her lips, and then disappears down the hall. As soon as she’s gone, I turn to Bogdan and smash him in the shoulder with a punch.

He stumbles backwards. “Fuck!” he complains. “You didn’t hold back.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Bogdan says, rolling his eyes at me. “It’s just Mama.”

That’s the thing about my little brother: he can’t fathom secrets among the people he trusts most. I know better.

Sometimes, the ones you love are hiding the most important secrets of all of them.

“Bogdan, do you ever get the feeling that she knows more than she lets on?”

He frowns, instantly uncomfortable with the question. “About what?”

“About everything,” I muse. “About Father and Yakov. About Svetlana.”

“Svetlana? What does she have to do with this?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl. “You are not that na?ve, so stop pretending. She’s the one who spread the rumor that Papa was the one that killed Yakov. And I’m starting to think Svetlana is more of a player than we initially suspected.”

“Why do you say that?” Bogdan asks, perking up a little.

“Camila mentioned that she was questioned by an older woman when she was taken six years ago. Before the cops rescued her from the basement cell of that fucking warehouse.”

“Fuck. You think that was Svetlana?”

“Who else could it be? She’s been the driving force behind Maxim’s motives since he was old enough to hold a gun. It would make sense that she’s involved somehow.”

“So Camila is giving you good information after all, eh?”

“I told you bringing her here had a purpose.”

“Yeah,” Bogdan says, thrusting his hips and lolling his tongue out suggestively. “That’s definitely the purpose you had in mind.”

“You’re lucky we’re blood,” I remind him icily. “Otherwise, you’d have been buried at the bottom of a river a long time ago.”

Bogdan laughs. “What good is a lucky break like that if I don’t use it?”

I roll my eyes and head for the door. “Contact our spies,” I tell him. “Ask if they’ve got any leads on Maxim or any of his men. He’s been quiet so far, but that’s only because he’s planning something.”

“Got it, boss. Say hi to the ol’ ball and chain for me.”

I give him the middle finger and set off towards Camila’s room.





I pause at her door when I hear her speak. She’s talking softly, secretively, so I can’t catch whole sentences. But I can make out bits and pieces. Only then does it strike me that she’s probably having her daily phone call with her sister.

“Okay… Okay… No, he doesn’t know… Listen, I love you… I love you so, so much.”

Her tone is heartfelt. And it sticks in my head like a fucking leech that won’t let go.

Who is she talking to?

Because it sure as hell isn’t her sister.

I try and pick out more of the conversation, but she’s saying goodbye already.

“Fuck,” I growl, stepping back from the door.

Jealousy zips through my body as my mind plays her parting words.

I love you, so, so much.

Is it possible that she was just talking to Maxim?

Is it possible that she’s playing me for a fool?

Is it possible that her loyalties remain with him?

She spent more than a year of her life with the man. She’d fucking agreed to marry the man. I’d convinced myself that her decision had been motivated by a desperation to lead a different kind of life.

But now I’m forced to face a different scenario: maybe it was because she fell in love with him.

Before I can get my composure in check, I burst into her room. She springs upright on her bed.

“Jesus, Isaak!” she says. “What the hell are you doing barging into my room?”

I’m in no mood to deal with attitude, particularly not from her. “Actually, this is my fucking house. So that makes it my room.”

Her eyes narrow. She swings her legs off the bed and stands to face me. “Who pissed in your cornflakes this morning?”

“I came here to let you know that I’ve organized a shopping trip for you. Edith will accompany you. You can pick out whatever you like and put it on my card.”

She frowns, clearly trying to figure out why I look so pissed right now. “If the thought of buying me clothes is pissing you off so much, I’ll pass.”

“For once, can you not fucking argue?”

“Are you being serious right now?” she jabs, her eyes flaming. “I’m not the one who stormed in here and started yelling for no reason.”