6: You Must Marry Me, Malysh

Enora paused when she reached the couch and spun to face me.

“It’s nothing.” She sat down and stared at the walls that were the color of her eyes. I knew she was lying by the way she avoided my gaze.

“Do not lie to me, malysh.” My voice was harsh with rage and this strange thirst for blood—blood of the one who hurt her. I stood from my swivel chair, went to her, and dragged her up from the cushion before examining her back.

Red and purple lines crossed each other countless times, and the skin around them was crimson, darker than red.

I ran my finger on them, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin. “Who did this to you, malysh?” I asked again, hearing the roar in my voice.

Enora swallowed. “It’s nothing.”

It was something, and it all made sense. Her entering my territory even after I’d threatened to kill her the next time we meet, her bare feet, her pale face, and misty eyes.

“Listen, malysh.” I tilted her chin up and peered straight into her gray eyes.

“The day I find out who did this to you will be the last day they breathe.” It was a promise I fucking meant, and I’d fulfill that promise soon enough. That I was sure of.

She grinned, not too brightly but not too darkly either. “What does it concern you that I’m hurt? You promised to kill me, remember?”

Her breasts were way too close to my chest, and like unlike poles, I was being magnetized to her.

“I’ll break you, and then I’ll kill you.” I brushed my thumb on her lower lip. It was a pink, soft, full lip.

“Till then, malysh, only I have the right to—” I leaned down to her ear. “To touch you,” I whispered.

I heard her breath cease as a low grunt escaped her throat. It was the reaction I wanted, but then she pulled away from me. “I am not yours or anybody’s, I came here for one thing, and you must help me.”

I put on my most indifferent look and took a seat on my desk. “Your papa is an enemy of the Bratva family, which I rule. Why would you come to me for help?”

“Because you’re the only one who can defeat the man I want to bring down.” She sat down on the edge of the cushion.

“My papa does not stand a chance; he and that man are too identical.”

Was she trying to play a game with me?

Her papa was the only person in New York that could challenge me, although I could easily take him down if he weren’t busy hiding like a rat.

“Say I could help you destroy whomever it is you want me to help you destroy. Why would I want to do that?”

“Because we have a common goal,” she replied firmly.

“The bigger picture may be blurred, and you can’t really see it now, but you’ll eventually come to see I’m on your side.”

Laughter itched the back of my throat and I let it out.

“You’re on my side? Malysh, you pointed a gun at me a week ago. And more of my men have died because of you than have died in an open fight between the Italians and the Russians.”

“I know.”

“If you do, then tell me what the hell you need my help for, and I might just consider it.”

She really was Carlos’s daughter, tricky, doing her best to outsmart me, but I’d been in this game for years before she was born.

She heaved a heavy sigh. “I can’t tell you unless you promise to help me out.”

“I don’t make blind promises, malysh.” That was an unspoken rule in this dark underworld and rules aside, my promises didn’t hold water, so I didn’t bother giving them out.

“I’ll give you something else in return,” she blurted desperately.

I held back a chuckle. I didn’t see anything she had to offer, except her body.

Dammit!

I hated those marks that distorted her satin olive skin. Finding out who the hell hurt her was a good exchange for helping her deal with whatever the fuck she needed me to deal with, unless, of course, she wanted me to give up my life, then that would be a capital NO. “Tell me who hurt you, and—”

“I’ll give you Carlos Patrizio in return.”

My eyes pinned on her in one swift glance. Was she joking or trying to bait me? Her face was stern, the rage in her eyes sincere. I could see past the way her fists were clenched by her side; I’d gotten my answer on who dared to hurt her.

I’d give him a fate worse than death, and for every stroke on her back, he’d get double in return. But I had to make her mine first.

“You want to give me your father in return?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

I scoffed. “Do you think I would believe that you would give your father up?” Enora was a child, maybe not in her looks but in how she thought I would fall so easily for her silly lies.

“You should,” she answered boldly. “I am the only one who can deliver him to you, and I always keep to my words.”

The Italians are proud bastards, they cut each other’s throats and drink each other’s blood, but one thing they never do is let others infiltrate them. And my sweet little Enora is one of them.

My lips curled into a wicked smile. “Prove it, and I will help you.”

Her eyes burned with determination, and I could read through the stern expression on her face. “I will do whatever you want.”

“Even if I ask for your blood?”

“I don’t care, I’ve lost too much blood to care how much more I will lose.”

Enora was bold, too bold for her own good.

I stood up and went to a small fridge in the corner of my office. “You seemed to enjoy my liquor last time.” I pulled out a half bottle of liquor and two shot glasses from the fridge and brought them to her.

She looked at the shot glass I propelled to her and then at my face. “I don’t want to drink.”

“I wasn’t asking if you want to.” I shoved one of the shot glasses into her hand and filled it with brown liquor before pouring one for myself.

“You’re in the business, you should know sharing liquor is a way of sealing a deal.”

She took the shot glass to her nose and inhaled it before cautiously taking it to her lips. She pinched her face into a grimace when the hot and bitter liquid passed her tongue and her throat moved as she swallowed it.

“Does this mean we have a deal?” she asked, bringing the shot glass away from her face. “Will you help me now?”

I smirked at her then turned around and returned to my seat. “There is one more condition before our deal is sealed.”

“Don’t play games with me, Nikolai.”

“I’m not, but I can never be too careful with an Italian, a Patrizio at that.”

Her hands trembled with anger and her eyes were spitting venom filled with rage at me. “Tell me, what is this condition?”

“Good girl.” I gulped my liquor in one drink and set the empty shot glass on the table. “You must marry me, malysh.”