The Mafia Boss's Obsession
Featherstaming my mafia stepbrother.
Strobe lights flickered over designer drugs, silk shirts, and Bratva soldiers in fitted blazers pretending not to be watching everyone.
Yuri leaned against the VIP bar, a drink in hand, his smirk too polished, like he’d rehearsed it. A girl clung to his arm, her lipstick smudged, but his eyes locked on me. He shoved her aside, not gently, and the flicker of cruelty in his gaze made my stomach twist. “Thought you weren’t coming,” he said, pulling me close, his fingers digging into my waist a shade too hard.
“I was bored,” I said, forcing a smile, but his touch felt wrong, like a lie I’d been ignoring.
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