Ruska Roma Novels & Stories

"Damian… what aren't you telling me?" He studied her for a beat. Then asked, "You ever heard of the Bratva?" Nova's brows pulled together. "Russian mafia?" He gave a slight nod. "Romania has its own. Older. Quieter. More fractured now. But still alive." She swallowed hard. "And your family…?" "My father was high-ranking. One of the few with real legacy ties." He took a slow sip, gaze unreadable. "I was raised in it. Groomed for it."

Romero added. "What about the branding?" I asked. Vic nods and pulled up a picture of a branded skin. It was Luca Romano. The man who used to be the head of the Romano Mafia. After the last time that we retaliated against them, Luca was left heavily wounded. We never confirmed his death and he never showed up afterward either. My breath hitched as I realized that it was the same as Luke's. Luca Romano was the heir before his father. Romero looked over at me with concern in his eyes.

Well, at least the cat died knowing and I grabbed my phone. I punched in his name, my fingers fidgeting as the search bar loaded and his profile appeared on the screen. Judas Romanovski—son of Ralph Romano, Killian Schmidt, Alexei Volkov. I frowned. Three fathers? Mother—Rara Romanovski. Siblings—Anya Romanovski, Tina Romanovski.

I warned. From his eyes, one can easily tell that Roma was a mad man. His hair was unruly and falling over a face that was as handsome as it was cruel, an eternal mischievous fire sparked in those dark blue eyes, a tiny smirk adorned his lips. There was an old scar that supplied a lot of rumours on how he got it, running from his left eyebrow to his left cheekbone. It only added to his cruel good looks. "Don." He greeted, the grin only spreading on his lips, an unhinged glint in his eyes.

“Yeah but that″ she pointed over to him. “Is a fucking beautiful specimen of a man he has to be an exception no?” “No no exceptions.” “You’re crazy like seriously crazy. When was the last time you even had sex?” Her hand was on her hip now another grasped around a bottle. “Ages ago, but that’s irrelevant.” “No it isn’t!” She nearly shouted. “Give him your number, let him fuck you silly and go on your merry way. Where is he from? He don’t look like many of the others.” “Russia.” “Oh shit his Russian?! Seriously Harper, nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

She allowed them to draw her a bath and cover her in what they said was a special Vasil flower scent. “My Lady, we have chosen this dress for you,” Erara said, pointing at the dress laid out on the bed. It was a stunning emerald green gown with flowing sleeves and a high waistline. It was made from thin brocade with exquisite embroidery that Ursa had never had the pleasure of seeing. Ursa had not even been there a day but already felt the warm climate of Ichares. It was much different from the northern city of Wruclas, the capital city of the Romanov territory- or what was the Romanov territory. “Is it satisfactory?”

Roma fell. Rose grabbed her hair— “Because of people like you… real victims don’t get help anymore.” 👿🔥 She threw her aside. “Now tell me… why mess with me?” 🤨 Roma trembling— “My brother… he was beaten by a girl… he showed your photo… then disappeared… we wanted revenge…” 😰 Rose nodded— “Oh… that’s it.” Cold tone— “Thanks. Now clean your trash and leave.” 😏 She turned to go.

I asked her. “Do you guys live here permanently? Do you guys work or are you a bunch of rich kids just lazing around?” she asked. She was very straight forward and she had no filter. I placed the coffee cup down in front of her and handed one to Raf too. “Actually, we’re a wolf pack and Jericho’s our Alpha,” Rafael said and I spat my coffee out as Storm looked at us with wide eyes. “Is this your packhouse?” she asked incredulously.