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Home / Mafia / Scamming the Devil / Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

All Chapters of Scamming the Devil : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

20 Chapters

Chapter One

IRINA VOLKOVThe wire transfer notification chimed on my phone at exactly 3:09PM.Fifty thousand dollars. Clean. Untraceable. So beautiful.My gaze was fixed on the screen in the dimly lit corner of the cafe, my fingers wrapped around my coffee that had lost its warmth an hour prior. The scene was filled with Moscow’s young professionals, absorbed in their laptops and pricey lattes, completely unaware that a con artist was present, pilfering bank accounts with merely a smartphone and a fabricated tale.Yeah—and that’s me.Fifty thousand was good. Better than good. It just brought my running total to four hundred and sixty-three thousand dollars over the past twenty-two months.Thirty-seven thousand left. Phew!Thirty-seven thousand, and I’ll be free. The debt Viktor, my father, had saddled me with before I escaped his house and his fists would finally be paid. The loan sharks who have been watching me will have their blood money. And I, Irina Volkov, or whatever name I’m choosing next

Chapter Two

IRINA VOLKOVThe apartment building in Tekstilshchiki looked worse in daylight than it did at night. Yeah.Crumbling concrete, rust stained walls, windows that was covered with mismatched curtains or cardboard. I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, the elevator had been broken for six fucking months and the landlord hasn’t done anything to it.Try not to breathe too deeply, the stairwell smelled like cigarettes, boiled cabbage, and desperation.God!Irina, this is temporary, okay? Everything is temporary. In less than a week, if Friday went according to the plan, I will never see this place again.I let out a breath.I unlocked three separate deadbolts—don’t ask me why—before pushing the door to apartment 412. The space was barely bigger than a prison cell. One room that served as a bedroom, living room, and office, plus a bathroom so small that I’d have to squeeze past the toilet to reach the shower. My room.Or at least, I rented it under a fake name that can’t be traced back to

Chapter Three

IRINA VOLKOVThe next morning, I took the metro to Tverskaya and found a secondhand boutique that catered to women who needed to look expensive without actually being expensive. The owner, a rail thin woman with black hair and calculating eyes, sized me up immediately.“Special occasion?” she asked in Russian.I nodded. “Dinner. Somewhere nice.” I kept my voice neutral, but the woman’s eyes sparkled with understanding.“Rich boyfriend?”“Something like that.”She disappeared into the back and returned with three dresses. All designer labels, all slightly worn butt beautifully maintained. The kind of dresses that whispered wealth without shouting it.I chose a midnight blue dress with a fitted bodice and flowing skirt. Elegant. Sophisticated. The king of thing my character, Anastasia Sokolova would wear. It cost more than I wanted to spend, but when I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw exactly what I needed to see. A woman worth investing in.A woman worth three hundred thousand eur

Chapter Four

IRINA VOLKOVThe wine was excellent. Probably worth more than everything I owned. I took a small sip of my wine and set the glass down, hyperaware of every movement, every gesture. One fucking wrong move, one slip in my performance, and this could all fall apart."You look nervous," Damien observed. Not accusatory. Just... observant."A little," I admitted, because Anastasia would be nervous. "I'm not usually good at first meetings. I'm much better behind a screen."Nice one Irina.“I understand.” He leaned back, and something about the movement was graceful, almost predatory. “Same here. But I actually wanted to meet you. I’ve thought about you all the time since we started talking. Do you know what that is like? To have someone occupy your thoughts one hundred percent?”Yes. I mean I do. Because despite everything, despite all the lies, despite the scam, despite knowing this was supposed to be purely transactional. I had thought about him. More than I should have.“I think about you

Chapter Five

IRINA VOLKOV But I had the check. The money was already mine. What harm could one drink do? And if I refused, if I seemed too eager to leave, it might raise suspicions. This is risky and fucking dangerous. Besides, there was something in his eyes. A challenge. Like he knew I wanted to refuse and was daring me to do it. I made my decision. One drink. Thirty minutes. Then I will excuse herself, go straight to the airport, and be in Prague by morning. Okay, sounds perfect. "I'd love to," I said, releasing a smile. "That sounds wonderful." "Excellent." Damien signaled for the check. "My car is outside." The check came and went, I didn't even see how much it was, though I caught a glimpse of several zeros. Damien paid in cash, crisp bills that he counted out with the ease of someone who never had to think about money. Then we were standing, his hand warm on the small of my back as he guided me through the restaurant. The two security guards fell into step behind us, silent as shado

Chapter Six

IRINA VOLKOVI set down my wine glass carefully, my hand shaking. "I don't know what you're talking about."He knows me. Fuck he does. Who is he? One of Sergei's men? No....Damien has this power and money aura than Sergei's.So who the fuck is he?"Don't you?" Damien....no, not Damien, whoever the hell he really was, leaned back, completely relaxed. "Let me help you remember. Your name is Irina Volkov. You're twenty-four years old. You live in apartment 412 in Tekstilshchiki, though I suspect you won't be going back there. Your stepfather is Viktor Volkov, a gambling addict who transferred his debts to you before you ran away two years ago. Five hundred thousand dollars. You've been paying it off slowly by running romance scams. I'm your seventh target this year, though you had others before. Should I continue?"Jesus christ!I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The room spun around me. He knew. He knew everything."How..." My voice came out as a whisper. "How long have you known?""

Chapter Seven

NIKOLAI DRAGUNOV I gestured to a hallway leading off the main living area. "There are three bedrooms. The one on the left is yours. You'll find everything you need. Clothes, toiletries, whatever. I had them brought in this afternoon." "This afternoon?" She laughed, a sharp, broken sound. "You were that certain I'd come here?" Fuck yeah. "Yes." I stared closely at her. The arrogance of it must have made her want to scream. Or cry. Or both. Good, Malyshka. Irina Volkov. Seeing her in person — she was even more beautiful than I'd anticipated. Her eyes were aquamarine fire, warm and wild all at once, the kind of gaze that made a man catch his breath without meaning to. That blue dress clung to her like it had been sewn onto her body, and every inch of her was exactly what I'd imagined. She thought she'd escaped. Thought she was free. Not anymore. I wanted her here for myself. Wanted to see exactly how well she could run when there was nowhere left to go. Dmitri would arrive soon,

Chapter Eight

IRINA VOLKOVI didn’t sleep. I spent the night pacing my luxurious prison, testing the windows (locked), examining every corner of the room for anything that could be used as a weapon (nothing), and trying to formulate an escape plan (impossible without the fucking elevator keycard).His men were stationed down the hall. They weren't standing at my door like cartoon guards; they were simply there, far enough to seem casual, close enough to make the message clear. I wasn't going anywhere.I wanted to put my fist through the wall. He took my freedom. Wrapped it in silk sheets and room service and called it hospitality.A gilded cage was still a cage.As dawn broke over Moscow, bleeding pink and gold across the skyline, I finally stopped pacing. I stood at the window and watched the city come alive below — people spilling onto streets, heading to work, living their ordinary, unimprisoned lives.I'd been one day away from joining them

Chapter Nine

IRINA VOLKOVThe statement hung in the air between us. I didn't examine it. Didn't want to."As for your debt," Nikolai continued, "I've already handled it."My head snapped up. "What?""I paid Sergei. In full. Plus interest for his trouble. You no longer owe him anything."I stared at him, unable to process what I was hearing. "You... you paid off my debt?""Five hundred thousand dollars. Yes." He watched me carefully. "Consider it another investment.""I don't understand." My voice was barely a whisper. "Why would you do that?""Because now you owe me." His smile was sharp. "And I'm far more patient than Sergei. I don't want you running because you're afraid of loan sharks. I want you here because eventually, you'll choose to be here.""That will never happen.""Never is a long time, Irina."I wanted to scream at him. Wanted to throw something. Wanted to wipe that confident certainty off his face.Instead, I asked the only question that mattered: "What happens now?""Now, we establi

Chapter Ten

IRINA VOLKOVI waked up properly for the first time — actual sleep, deep and unwanted — and lay still for a moment resenting my own body for it.Two days in this penthouse and I was already adapting. Already finding the bed comfortable, the sheets soft, the silence manageable. That was dangerous. Comfort was how cages became homes.Get up. Think. Plan.How about I find a gun and kill that monster?I went to the kitchen. Coffee was already made — hot, which meant he'd been up before me and thought to leave it. On the counter beside the cup was a note in Nikolai's handwriting. Precise, unhurried letters.Library. Second shelf from the top, far left. You missed the best ones.No signature. No pleasantry.I stared at it for longer than I should have, then crossed the kitchen and dropped it in the bin. Picked up the coffee. Turned to leave.Stopped. Went back to the bin and took the note out.I told myself it was strategic — knowing how his mind worked was useful. That was all it was.I fo

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