Todos los capítulos de Kiss Me Goodbye, Mafia Don: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

I'm so restless. I need another drink. The bottle of vodka hasn't left my side for the better part of an hour, which is how long I've been staring at the laptop screen. Trying to process this email I have opened in front of me. Trying to process the fact that I, Viktor Mikhail Anatoly Ivanov, am about to become a father. My sister, Irina's sing-song voice rings in my ears. "I don't understand. Is that a problem...? Or a blessing?" I chug more vodka down and pray the screen will start swimming enough for all the information to blur together until it makes sense. Because as it stands now, none of this makes sense. I had everything meticulously planned out. Nikolai was supposed to be the family continuer. He should have been the one to go to the premiere and talk with Hermes and all that shit... No. Can't think about that what if. Even though he's my little brother, the mental image of him being the one to sweep Anna off her feet and into that storage closet makes my stomach churn.

Anna Viktor's words sound garbled in my ears. I’m trying to just draw in the next breath, exhale, and repeat. I’m pregnant. With a Russian mob boss’s baby. I fucked a mob boss. A criminal. An insanely hot criminal, but this is not the time to split hairs. “Thanks, Viktor, really.” I offer him my most magnanimous smile so he knows there’s no hard feelings. “For everything. You’ve been wonderful, and you’re absolutely right—this food is too amazing to skip for salad. So again, thank you.” He casually lofts a brow. “But…?” “But I don’t need your help. Or your money. Or your protection.” The other brow joins his hairline. “Oh, really?” Why do I have this sinking feeling that he’s not taking me seriously? “Really really. I’m a big girl. I can tie my own shoes and everything. I’ll get a new with great employers, and a solid paycheck⁠—” “I will provide for my child. And you.” The tone of his voice brooks no argument. He’s not raising his voice or expressing any anger, but the muscl

AnnaA knock sounds on the door. Blair pops in with a shit-eating grin. "You're gonna wanna clear more space off your desk.""Stop. Really?" I glance at my tiny desk, which is already covered with several vases' worth of champagne roses, notecards signed by Viktor, and a few empty smoothie cups. "Are you serious?""Not as serious as Lover Boy is!" She steps aside. Right on cue, several men and women in uniform march in carrying vases of blood red roses, a large box tied with velvet ribbon, and yet another prenatal-packed smoothie with an itemized label of every ingredient slapped on the side.Okay. I might be enjoying the attention a little bit.Just the teensiest, tiniest little bit."How many roses this time?" Blair lets out a low whistle as she does a quick count. "Four dozen. And the expensive kind. Don't these last a whole year?"I let out a wistful sigh and nod. "As do the ones he sent yesterday. And the day before."Every day since our first ultrasound appointment, actually.Bl

ViktorI'm in a foul mood after leaving the senator to cower in his office. I need visceral reminders that someone in this world knows how to pull through, so I text my sister and arrange to meet up with her at one of our private hangars.Irina let me know this morning that a new delivery of specialized ammunition was due to arrive after a long delay. She'd insisted on overseeing the inbound processing herself to avoid further fuckups.As I park my car in the hangar, I can see her barking orders to every man who isn't already scrambling to swiftly obey her. She doesn't stop her stride even when she hears me slam the driver's door shut."Get Vlaski on the phone and tell him it's today or never," she orders one of our lower vors. "If he pulls any shit, we're canceling the order. Make sure he knows it."Watching my baby sister keep everyone in line is already soothing my temper. She's a mirror image of our mother with her long, dark hair and slim build, but she has the same fire and tena

AnnaI’m not drunk. There’s no way. I have absorbed exactly zero percent of alcohol this whole evening.So why is my door blurry?It takes a few moments of blankly staring at the door to my new penthouse to process the fact that it’s not blurry at all.It is, instead, covered in plastic sheeting.And also, locked.The fuck?I quickly take out my phone and put a call across to the caretaker.“Hi, Mr. Marquette?” I’m super glad I put him on speed dial for things like this. It’s way later than I intended to be out with Blair, and being overly tired is pretty damn close to being drunk. “Sorry to bother you so late. What’s, ah… what’s up with my door?”“Oh my God! My apologies!” Mr. Marquette sounds like he’s scrambling out of bed as he wakes up more to talk to me. “I completely forgot to call you. I feel terrible, really.”“It’s totally fine.” I force the smile into my voice. Unlike my mother, I don’t turn into a raging bitch when things inconvenience me. “I’m just trying to get in and my