Chapter Three

Present Day

Celia

I’m not two feet into the house before Carina is on me. “What happened?”

I hate the fear on her heart-shaped face. Everyone says we look so alike we could be twins. All I can see are our differences, Carina is beautiful and I’m maybe cute on a good hair day. While there is the same heart-shaped as me her nose is longer and elegant—mine is small with a slight tip up at the end. Her mouth is wide and mine is a cupids bow with a thicker, fuller bottom lip and smaller upper lip. Carina takes after our mother with her skin only slightly olive. I take after Carlo with a darker olive tone that easily tanned and always had enough color most people assumed I was Mexican or something—until they saw my gray eyes. She’s also five foot three to my five foot six.

Normally her green eyes are soft moss, but now they’re a clear, hard emerald. Forcing a smile, I hug her tight. “The best news, Milos asked me to marry him.”

“Oh god, I’m sorry.” She begins crying. We both were afraid this was why Carlo wanted to see me.

Wiping her tears, I shake my head. “I’m not. I’m so happy, Carina. It’s Milos Levin. He’s beautiful, and he’s been so sweet. Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

Carina isn’t fooled. “You can cry with me. I won’t tell Mommy or Carlo.”

“I’m not sad.” I say firmly. “This is better than I could have hoped for. I’ve told you about Milos. You get to have my car. Remember the car he gave me? It’s yours now.” I hand her the keys.

Sniffling, her eyes run over me. “Are you sure?”

This time I stop hiding from myself to tell her the truth. “Carina, this is an actual dream come true. Come on, we both thought I was going to get an old, crusty guy with too much money who didn’t give a fuck about me.”

She shudders. “He’s so big and scary. You really aren’t afraid of him?”

“In the beginning, yes, but after four years not in the least. He’s taken care of me—” Shit. I forgot I never told her about…I force the memory down. “I’m happy. I need you to be happy for me. Can you do that?”

Nodding, she hugs me tight. “It might be four years, but have you really spent more than ten hours with him total? You only saw him…was it six or seven times, you said? How can you be sure? Will he let me visit you?”

I’m fighting for control of my smile. She isn’t wrong. While there were more times than she knew of, all the time we spent together over the last four years couldn’t be more than two whole weeks combined. In the regular world it would have been unheard of. For mafia, it’s more than most women got. There were lucky women who knew of and encountered their husbands before the family agreed on marriage and terms. However, even they rarely were allowed more than a surface knowledge of each other before becoming engaged. “Of course he will. He knows how important you are to me. He’s not like Carlo.”

“What do you mean he’s taken care of you?” she asks.

Forcing a smile, I run my hand through her hair, then tug teasingly. “The car and Mommy—I told you. Now I need to get ready to get to work.”

Before she can ask again, I go into my room to get dressed for work at the clinic. When I come out of my room, I find the living room empty and can hear an anime playing in my sister’s room.

Walking out of the house, I find Peter waiting.

He’s out of the large black SUV, standing in front of the door to my car. “You need something?”

I nod, waving my hand at myself in my scrubs and comfy shoes. “To go to work. At the veterinarian clinic.”

He shakes his head. “Nyet, Milos said you are to tell them you quit.”

What the hell? It’s my first day back since graduating a week ago. I’m not quitting. “Well, Milos can fuck off and so can you. I’m not quitting. He doesn’t own me. I’m going to work.”

Turning away from him, I begin walking. He steps in front of me. “Milos will be angry if you—”

Good, now he’ll know how I feel. Bossy asshole. “I don’t care. I’m going to work. Now get the fuck out of my way.”

I never see him move, I’m up in his arms and he carries me kicking and struggling against him to the SUV. The driver, someone I’ve never seen before, is waiting with the back door open. Peter drops me in then the door closes.

I’m so pissed, I kick the door. Fuckers.

“I know for a fact you were ordered never to touch me,” I throw at Peter.

He shrugs. “Milos said in times of your safety we can. If I thought Milos would kill me for touching you, I wouldn’t have done it.” Looking to the driver, he tells him in Russian not to forget that Milos said not to touch me or Milos will kill him.

“Who is he?” I ask Peter in English—I’m not going to tell him after four years of college Russian and living with a Russian roommate willing to help me learn the language I now can speak and understand the language nearly as well as a native. The driver now refuses to look anywhere near me after he’d been staring at me in the mirror.

“His name is Gleb. Our job is to keep you safe. Don’t make it any harder than it has to be,” Peter warns me.

“This isn’t about my safety, it’s about Milos having a power trip. Where the hell are you taking me?” I ask even though I know the answer.

“Your new home,” he says, his tone bored. “Seat belt.”

“Fuck you.” I cross my arms, refusing to put my seat belt on. Instead I dig into my purse for my phone. It isn’t the flip phone I had four years ago. It’s the phone Milos gave me three years ago to replace the first one he gave me the day I met him. I text the clinic telling them I’m sorry, but something came up and I can’t go into work today.

Today is mirroring that first day in so many ways I can’t stop from thinking of the first day I met Milos Levin, and my whole life changed.

***

Four Years Ago

I’m still trembling with nerves as I get ready for work. Why the hell couldn’t I stop thinking of Milos Levin? Of how he called himself a villain when I knew he wasn’t. The Sabatinis wouldn’t work with him if he were. He’d gone against his father to stop trafficking. It didn’t matter the reason why. Men in the mafia were raised to be obedient to only their leader and their father. For him to challenge his father was huge.

Stop it, it didn’t matter what he did or why. I’m sure he’s already forgotten me. I need to do the same. There’s a slick black Mercedes sedan in my driveway, the SUV from this morning behind it. The passenger who went into the meeting with Milos’s brother is waiting.

“This is your car. Milos does not want you walking. You stay warm and safe.” He offers me the keys.

I know the house is empty—my little sister is hunting for the newest serial of her favorite manga, and my mother is at work with Carlo—but I still glance at my house, sure I’m being set up. This has to be a joke. All I can do is back away from him while shaking my head. “No, I don’t want it. Tell him to take it back.”

I try to go around him. No way in hell am I taking a car from Milos Levin. It would come with so many strings I’ll never get loose.

He steps in front of me. “The car is yours. You will not walk. Your safety is important to Milos.”

“Go away and leave me the hell alone,” I yell and try to get around him.

Again he’s in front of me. “Do not anger Milos. You will regret it.”

The words stop me. In the world of mafia those words were a promise that always came true. “Are you threatening me?”

His eyes go wide, shaking his head. “No, if you don’t take the car then we are to take you to work. You do not walk.”

Relief fills me—he was used to using threatening people. From how wide his eyes get, it’s clear he was also given the order not to hurt or scare me—no doubt Milos would see that as his privilege alone. What a weirdo.

Sighing, I nod. Step close, my hand out as if I’m going to take the keys. Instead, I kick into his instep hard. Then I turn and run. I only manage to get thirty feet before the big SUV is in front of me. Annoyed, I kick the door and try to go around it.

The guy I kicked is out of the car. He lifts me and stuffs me in the back seat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He slams the door, immediately I hear the locks click.

“If you will not take the car, then we are to drive you to work. It is too cold for you to walk.” I don’t speak Russian, but I’m pretty sure he says a swear word as he pulls out his phone.

A flood of Russian comes out of him. Oh yeah, he’s talking to Milos.

“Tell him I’m not taking the fucking car! He can take it and shove it up his ass!”

The guy looks back at me. He says something. Then chuckles as he looks away.

I’m guessing if I were smart I’d be afraid of why he was laughing. Too bad for him and Milos I’m not. There are so many things I could do to get back at him, but I don’t dare, not willing to deal with the end result. So all I do is seethe in frustration as the SUV drives to the clinic. I jump out the moment the door is unlocked and flip them off as I go inside.

Darla sighs when she sees me. “Your man is gorgeous. How and where did you get him?”

I shake my head. “He’s not mine. How is the kitten?”

“Oh you mean Koshka? That’s what Milos said to call the kitten. He paid a fat wad of cash to cover expenses and for the charity fund. Beautiful and kind. Swoon. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him,” she teases.

Faking a smile, “You can have him.”

It annoys me I can’t tell her what he really is—mafia, Bratva. To do that would mean I’d have to tell her how I know. Which isn’t an option. I’m grateful I don’t have Carlo’s name. No one knows who my father is, and my hope is no one ever will.

The whole time I’m at work I’m waiting for Milos to make an appearance. I’m relieved when the day ends and he doesn’t. I really am. Carrying around the adorable black kitten with yellow eyes that glow up at me, I refuse to think of how those eyes remind me of Milos.

I’m the last to leave the clinic. It doesn’t bother me, usually. I just hate how it’s dark out already. All I have to do is throw out the trash, then I can lock up and leave. I step outside, the kitten in the pouch I’ve been carrying her around in all night.

The huge SUV is waiting, the door opens to Milos.

“Go away,” I hiss at him as I toss the first trash bag. Immediately the guy who threw me in the SUV earlier is at my side and tosses the other two bags into the dumpster.

“Are you the last and only one in the building?” Milos is daring me to tell him differently.

“I thought I was never going to see you again,” I mutter.

“If you had taken the car from Peter and not kicked him, you never would have.” The words are so cold, I don’t doubt him for a moment.

I ignore him, lock the door. And turn to— I’m up in Milos’s arms again, being carried to the SUV. He carries me across his chest as easily as I would a kitten. It doesn’t matter I’m struggling against him. His grip tightens in warning. Shock at how much I like being in his arms makes me fight even harder against him—against what he does to me. It doesn’t help in the slightest. I’m in the back of the SUV, again.

“Answer me. Do they leave you alone to close all by yourself?”

“Go away, you fucking psycho.” None of it should matter to him. I need him to go away and never come back.

An exhale of air that might be considered a laugh comes out of him. “If you don’t answer I’ll burn the place down tonight. You can’t work there if it’s a shell.”

I don’t doubt him for a second. Holy freaking crap. “You are psychotic.”

“If I am psychotic, don’t you think it’s best not to anger me? Seat belt, Celia.” My words don’t phase him in the slightest. His eyes don’t even flicker. Definite psycho.

“Fuck you.” The words are barely out of my mouth before he’s pressing me back and putting the seat belt on me. Koshka is meowing up a storm. This close, I inhale Milos’s scent deep into my lungs: citrus, woodsy with a hint of moss green, and underlying those already appealing notes is something that is pure Milos—something heady, captivating, so enticing I want to lick his skin to taste it on my tongue.

His large hand grasps my chin, and it happens again, electricity surging through my entire body. It’s so strong—almost violent—causing me to shudder. A thumb runs over my lips. Holy fuck, the touch kicks over a hive of bees I had no idea were inside my tummy, spilling hot honey through my veins. “Such beautiful lips should not say such dirty things. Behave, kotyonok. I can turn you from hissing and spitting into purring—you aren’t ready for it…yet.”

It isn’t just his words that are a promise, it’s his touch and the way those yellow eyes flare hot with intent. I have no control of my body and want to die from embarrassment at the wet heat flooding my core. My body has never done that before, not even while reading my sister’s smuttiest manga.

His body goes tense against mine. Koshka’s little head pops out of the carrier and she hisses at Milos. He pushes away with what has to be a curse word in Russian.

“Let me out.” I hate the way the words tremble. I’m shocked I found the air to get them out at all.

Milos turns his attention back to me. “Were you the only person left in the building?”

I sigh. “Yes. It’s fine. This is a safe neighborhood. I’m only two miles from home. If you burn it down I swear I will never forgive you. My nonna might have taught me how not to take shit from anyone, but I learned how to be a bitch at the feet of Carlo and his psychopathic men—you think I’m bad now, you have no idea how bad I can be.”

I’m more than willing to let loose everything I’ve learned on this man who I need to go far, far away from me. The longer I’m with him, the less I recognize myself. “Besides, my fat ass needs the exercise anyway.”

His jaw goes tight. Violence fills the air until I can barely breathe. “Do not call yourself that. If anyone else were to call you fat I would make them bleed. You do it again and I will ensure you regret it.”

What? I am not turned on by the menace in him…damn it, I am.

“Either you take the car or my men take you to and from work every day. The decision is yours.” His tone is clear: pick one, or he will.

“How the hell am I going to explain a car like that to my family? If Carlo finds out you bought me a car, you will be completely fucked. He’ll pin you into a marriage with me so fast it will make your head spin, and he’ll take every dime he can get while he’s at it.” I warn him.

An odd exhalation comes out of him, almost like a laugh but not quite. What the hell would he think is funny about that? Probably that anyone would force him into a marriage, especially with me. “The car is a donation from someone thanking you for caring for the kitten. And it is. You will care for the kitten day and night for the next few weeks—something I have no inclination or time for. I don’t believe you are not clever enough to keep my name out of it. It is unacceptable for you to be out walking the streets alone. I don’t care if you think the streets are safe. A beautiful woman like you alone, is a tasty treat no one who saw you would be able to deny.”

I roll my eyes. In that time he’s pulled out a phone from his inner pocket and is dropping it in my lap. “What’s this?”

“Your new phone. The one you have is not safe. It is too old and undependable.” He says it like it’s not a big deal and he gives away phones to everyone he meets.

Holy crap, this is a thousand dollar phone. I shake my head. No fucking way. But I’m not allowed to get my mouth open.

He holds up my old phone. How the hell did he get it out of my pocket? In a few deft moves, he’s pulled out the sim card, then opens his window and tosses my phone out of the moving vehicle. He offers me the sim card. “You will take the phone and the car.”

When I don’t take it, too stunned to move, he drops it into Koshka’s pouch with a gentle caress of his fingers over the tiny kitten.

The SUV stops in front of my house. “I really hate your guts.”

His chuckle is rich and smoky and I swear it’s somehow a threat. “You wish, kotyonok.”

Sliding out of the SUV, I slam the door and practically run my ass into the house.

My sister is waiting in my room. “Hey, what’s up with the car in the driveway? Did Carlo finally buy Mommy a new car?”

I shake my head. Lying is my only choice if I don’t want to keep tangling with Milos Levin. And I don’t want to. I really don’t.

“I’ve got a kitten,” I warn her. She sighs and backs away to stand in the doorway. “The kitty’s new mommy gave it to me. She’s a weird lady. Too busy and stressed to feed and watch it until it’s ready to go home with her. So she’s giving me the car to get around in. She found out I’m walking to and from work. The kitten isn’t allowed to get cold.”

Carina shakes her head. “That is some rich white people shit. Won’t take care of the cat but spends thousands for someone else to do it.”

I laugh. “I guess.”

“Why was it here though? I thought you were supposed to drive it to work?” Her forehead crinkles.

I sigh at the sight—she’s too young for it to do that. Lying to protect her is the easiest thing I’ll do every day of my life. “I tried to argue with her I didn’t need it, but she got mad. Threatened to pull the donation she gave for charity. I’ll take it I guess. Until it’s time to give her the kitten.”

“Huh, okay.” She yawns. “So what did Carlo say about the money?”

I shake my head.

She sighs. “I’m sorry. This is bullshit. What are you going to do?”

Shrugging, “It’s community college and vet tech, I guess.”

Another sigh. “I wish to hell I could help you.”

“It’s fine. I knew it wouldn’t happen.” I paste a smile on my face, doing my best to pretend I wouldn’t cry myself to sleep over the loss of my dream.