Claimed Bratva Virgin (Yezhov Bratva #4)

Chapter 16 – Leonora

Chapter 15 – Rafayel

The first thing I did when I shut the door was toss my jacket and tie and march up to my study to fish out a bottle of the Shipwreck Heidsieck . Then, I put it back and went for the vodka. I lined up two glasses, cursed under my breath, and returned one.

I kicked my head back to chug down the full glass. It burned down my throat in a good way, but it wasn’t the best distraction. She wasn’t even present, but her absence screwed with my senses all the same. The lack of concentration became worse. My thoughts were frequently drifting to Leonora. And today, when I accidentally remembered the bruises on her face from last night, I suppressed the pressure to hunt down Rossi myself.

I swallowed another glassful. And when it didn’t burn hot enough, I chucked the glass at the door, and it shattered on impact. Taking the bottle to my mouth, tiny shards of glass crunched under my shoes as I stomped off to the bedroom.

“Varya, I need you to clean up the mess in the study!” I shouted over my shoulder before slamming the door shut and collapsing on the bed.

Fucking hell.

How was it possible that my fingers itched badly to touch her, hold her, fuck her? I wanted to watch her quiver, desired for her to moan into my mouth. But then, it was more than just the thrill of using her perfect body. I wanted to keep her, to protect her from bastards like Rossi. I wanted her to be mine in every fucking sense of the word.

Ally or not, this attraction thing was growing stronger, like a madness that grew more unstable as time passed by. Did I trust her? Fuck no. There was no ounce of trust in that one. I also wished I’d never laid eyes on her from the start. Don’t know what the bloody hell got into me when I kissed her on that track like a hungry maniac, or brought her back home for a drink.

A drink. Ha! If my brother could see me now, he’d testify that I’d only gotten sicker in the head. For a woman. Jesus.

I was a mess.

I’d done it anyway. I crossed the lines with her, stalked her, and ran after her when she was in trouble. I was starting to be convinced that this was a case of bad obsession, but living in denial wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

I dropped the half-empty bottle, kicked off my shoes, and headed straight for the shower. But it didn’t work. Not when the water was ice cold or scalding hot. I grabbed my cock, closed my eyes, and succumbed to the rage of the confusing war going on in my head. I welcomed the image of her naked body and legs spread on my bed. I thrust my hips at the glistening sight of her dripping pink pussy taking in all of me. My nails dug hard against the wall when her lips brushed the scar on my eyebrow, and her tits brushed my chest. And a seizure-like vibration rippled through my core when her lips touched mine.

After ten minutes of miserably jacking off, I washed my load off the wall and went back to the room, dripping wet and more frustrated at the stagnant energy inside of me.

Vodka didn’t work, smashing something didn’t work, and a shower didn’t work. Maybe breaking a few noses here and there would.

No doubt, Tikhon and some of the men were already smashing faces at the boxing gym. And I knew the lot of them would jump at an opportunity to spar with me, to try and prove they could beat me. I could do with those, whether or not they could handle the load I needed to get off.

I was halfway through slipping on a t-shirt and a pair of sweats when Varya knocked once on the door and voiced that my cousin was in the parlor waiting for me. Which cousin, she didn’t say. But if it was Andrei, I’d willingly take him on right there to vent. Partially, my decision to stay away from her was his fucking fault. If he hadn’t come along, putting those rational thoughts in my head, I’d have her bent over on my desk by now, possibly with her pants down and ass up, ready for me.

Christ. I needed to get a fucking grip. Worse, every thought about yearning for the softness of another woman died like wilting grass. Leonora was the only woman I wanted.

I descended the stairs in seconds. As it turned out, today was Andrei’s lucky day.

Ivan sat on one of the couches with a brown envelope in his hands and his elbows propped up on his knees. I frowned. He looked different, surprisingly mature. Gone were his casual all-the-time party or racing clothes. Now, he wore a dark blue suit, looking like a serious-minded young man with important business to attend to.

When his eyes landed on me, he jumped to his feet, shakily wiping a hand on the back of his pants.

“ Privyet.”

I gave his clothes another once-over, raising a questioning brow. “Missed your turn?”

“What?”

“I’m asking If you missed your turn.” I sat on the armrest on one of the sofas, and when he didn’t catch on, I added, “For your job interview.”

He looked at his outfit and laughed, but it sounded forced. “Oh, actually, no. I didn’t miss it. I got the job as a computer analyst at Charleston’s four months ago.”

“Hm. Not bad.”

“ Da . Not bad at all.”

“I didn’t know. Congratulations.”

“Yeah, you didn’t. Especially not after I told you about it and you said, ‘Fuck off Ivan, I’m not in the mood. I have more important shit to handle, a drop to monitor in twenty minutes and a meeting with Santana.’”

“Do I remember that?”

“Do you?” Without the slight twitching of his eyebrows giving it away that he was pissed, his poker face was a tight mask. “Doesn’t matter. I got it; you were busy.”

“If you got it, why do you look like you want to lay one on me?”

“Because you’re an asshole sometimes?”

Smirking, I folded my arms over my chest. I liked it when this kid was feisty. It reminded me a lot of when I was younger and constantly irritating the shit out of my brother. “You came all the way down here to call me an asshole.”

“Not necessarily. But I’m glad I got it in. I’m here because I have something you want to see.”

“A receipt of your new toy? What is it this time? An Aston Martini?” I was picking on him, and while it was a small routine between us anytime I saw his face, today’s irritation wasn’t entirely his fault.

“Rafa, I’m not fucking around. It’s about the alliance with the Italians. You’ve been blindsided.”

“Blindsided, you say.” The smirk fell off my face. “And how would you know that? What do you know about the alliance? The last time I checked, if I recall correctly, you wanted nothing to do with this shit, or am I wrong? What made you get bored of your race tracks and nightclubs?”

“I’m not bored,” he clarified sternly. “Not like you understand any of that shit, but I care; there’s a difference. I might not be in the loop to know every detail, but I’ve got ears and eyes open, Rafa. You have me at arms-length, but you’re family. This is family. When I heard about the alliance with the Italians, I didn’t like it one fucking bit. Especially because that bitch was involved—”

The bitch being Leonora. Even now, as Ivan spoke, his face contorted with so much disgust and rage I knew how much he hated her.

And he didn’t know how hard I restrained myself from beating him to a pulp until he needed a hospital.

“—they were going to betray us somehow, one way or the other, because that’s what they are—fucking snakes.”

“Get to the fucking point!”

Ivan flinched, coming out from the haze of his anger to see the promise of murder in my eyes if he kept talking. He handed me the envelope and continued speaking while I ripped the brown paper to take out the pictures.

My blood ran cold when I recognized the two men in the photograph, and for the tiniest split of a second, my beating heart missed a step. I eyed Ivan over the pictures, and the look on his face said it all; this was not a fucking joke. It wasn’t doctored or tampered with. His intentions were good, and that was all the fuel I needed to stoke the fire blazing like an inferno inside my chest.

“They said they needed you to help them fight off Rossi. So why’s Enzo meeting him frequently? You’re not asking me, but I’ll tell you. Leo, Luca, Enzo. Bad combination for the Bratva. They could have only had one reason for this alliance, Rafa: to rip you from the inside out.”

I knew what he was going to say next but didn’t want to hear it.

Ivan said it anyway.

“She’s playing with you, Boss.”

And that confirmed what I’d already known from the beginning.

Fuck her.

Fuck all women.

Not one of them could be trusted. Not anyone really.

I grabbed my phone, putting Tikhon on speed dial. “Rafa—”

“I need Leonora’s IP address and her exact location right fucking now.”

“Hi, again.”

Like a tree rooted in the soil, I stayed put. I was too stunned to speak, too angry to move. Papa was just seated there. With more gray hair scattered on his head and littered among the scruff on his jaw, he appeared frailer than he was at the last minute. His body slouched on the wheelchair, and the glow in his eyes was dull and tired. But he was smiling. Smiling because of whatever he’d discussed with this so-called visitor in the room.

“You.” I finally found my voice, but it lacked the strength I needed to confront him. “What are you doing here? Papa, why is he here?”

“Sit down, principessa .”

“But Papa—”

“Fucking sit down, Leonora. Goddamn it.” Papa dragged his hand down his eyes, and I obeyed, but only because he started coughing again.

I looked between Luca and Papa. This was a dream. This wasn’t happening. And if Papa thought I was just going to sit down without saying a word in the same room with the man who had the nerve to punch me in the face, he had another thing coming.

Papa had to know one of his children inherited a full dose of his stubbornness.

“I’m sitting, Papa. Now, I need to know what the hell is going on and why this man is here.”

“This man , principessa,” he pointed a shaky finger to a grinning Luca, “ E il Messia. ”

He is the messiah.

Papa’s illness had worsened. That was the only possible explanation for whatever lunacy he was experiencing now. Maybe he didn’t understand, or maybe the sickness affected his vision.

“Papa, the man you’re pointing at is Luca Rossi,” I pointed out. “As in the Rossi capo that has sought tirelessly to overthrow you and bring everything you’ve worked hard to build to ruin. You’re entering him with warmth and tequila.”

After my announcement, I expected Papa to frown, rain thunder on everyone, and order Marco to bundle the man to the basement and chop his fingers for daring to enter his home. I expected this sudden nightmare to end.

But nothing changed, and Papa’s crooked smile stayed intact.

“Again, my girl, I know. I apologize on his behalf about your face, though I know you’re stronger than a few cuts and bruises. He couldn’t blow his cover. Not yet, anyway.”

“Blow his cover—what do you mean, blow his cover, Papa?” I was trying not to hyperventilate because, somehow, Papa knew I was smart enough to put the pieces together. And I was putting the frigging pieces together. “Papa, Rossi. Is. The. Enemy. E-N-E-M-Y.”

“Try questioning my intelligence again, principessa . I dare you.” Papa’s warning was stern.

“ Mi dispiace, Papa.”

I’m sorry, Papa.

But cut to the chase and frigging tell me already.

“The Colombos and Rossis have deep ties from our home, Leo. The bond of Italia is stronger than any other alliance, and the Rossis have proven to be useful in creating paths and structures for us back at home. We have relied on each other for decades now, lending helping hands to each other.”

Why was this revelation hurting like a bitch? I narrowed my eyes at Papa. “And I had absolutely no idea about this because?”

“That was the plan, Leo. Currently, the plan is underway to help the Rossis make a mark here in the United States. They need the recognition and influence, and we can make that happen. Scratch my back, and I scratch yours. You shouldn’t get mad. It was my idea to create a facade and send word out that the Rossis were our enemies. That way, when we presented a proposal to the Russians for an alliance, our story would be believable. The Yezhovs are power-hungry fools. They would have only considered their benefits without bothering to do background research.”

That was what Papa thought. However, I selfishly believed that Rafayel agreed to that proposal in the first place because of me. He hadn’t said anything to put such an idea in my head, but my intuition was hardly ever wrong.

“In reality, we are brothers. And as brothers, we will take down those damn Russians.” Papa smiled.

“Your papa trusts me. You should, too. You know we will achieve so much if we work together as a team.”

I looked at Luca with every intention of breaking his pretty face. He thought I’d quickly forget that he assaulted me in the presence of his men only hours ago. Newsflash: I didn’t forget. I was never going to forget. Papa trusted him because we shared Italian blood, and, of course, money was involved. But I looked beyond his handsome front and saw the devil behind the mask.

I hated him. My entire being, mind, and soul loathed his existence.

“Fuck you, Rossi. And Papa—”

The second I was old enough to understand the life I’d been born into, I accepted it with no complaints or Cinderella wishes that my world would change. No. I embraced every inch of it in its raw form. I embraced Papa and my brother and cousins—every single one of them, with their flaws and imperfections. But I owed my bravado to Papa because, in the midst of the darkness surrounding us, he managed to shield us, protect us, and love us the best way he could.

In the hysteria and chaos, my own world was normal. I boasted proudly anywhere and to anyone that Papa was a good father. With Matteo and me, he played fair. He celebrated our birthdays, placed our desires as paramount, and made us his priorities.

But every good thing must come to an end, they say.

As I stared at the man I thought I knew all my life, that gloating dissipated to nothingness.

“—you used me. I can’t believe this. You consented to this asshole punching me in the face because he couldn’t afford to blow his cover. What—what the actual hell, Papa? You took advantage of my ignorance and used me as a pawn in your game. And for that, I’m greatly disappointed.”

Papa frowned at me, and, for the first time ever, I saw the man people feared—the real Enzo Colombo, without a sliver of emotion or concern.

“Don’t you dare go soft on me, Leo. Get rid of those fucking emotions and focus. This tactic was necessary. Now we have the Russians in our palms and can infiltrate with ease. Principessa , I’m doing this for us. My legacy can and will not end. By the Rossis’ side, you both will lead our people, Colombo and Rossi united. Uno Italia. ”

“No! Did you say you did this for us?” I jumped to my feet like there were hot coals everywhere. I was suffocating. And those walls? They were caving in again, and the chances of finding an escape were slimmer. “No, Papa! No Uno Italia shit. You’re doing this for yourself.”

“Leo.”

“NO! I’m not hearing it. It’s Enzo Colombo’s legacy. Not the Rossis’. Not the Russians’. It’s ours, Papa.” It took all of my strength left in me not to break down in tears like an emotional wreck. “I’m not doing it. I’m not staying here and listening to this crap. This is not about being emotional. This is about you playing with me like I mean nothing to you. You betrayed me, Papa. You—”

“Leonora!” Now was the time Papa thundered. “I am dying, can’t you see? Look at me.”

I was looking at him, but I couldn’t recognize him.

“My time’s running up, and securing your future and our legacy is a priority. Luca is the most suitable match and will do well to bring us to unity. Your marriage to him will solidify the alliance between both families. And I’m not leaving you with a choice. This is my decision.”

His final wish. And Papa’s wishes were always final.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, Papa decided now was the right time to talk about unity.

Marriage to Luca Rossi. Not now, not ever.

Every part of me burned with hatred as I glared at Luca. Smug and certain, he looked at me like he’d already won. It made my stomach churn, and with the way he had his eyes pinned on me, subtly raking down my body, the man’s intentions were pure evil.

I’d rather bite off my own arm than marry the bastard.

The propelling urge to cry and laugh hit me at the same time. I ran away from Rafayel’s arms because I thought being there with him was a nightmare. Meanwhile, this was the nightmare. Coming back to Papa had to be the biggest mistake of my life.

I couldn’t find the words.

My hands trembled at my sides as my thoughts raced.

Rafayel.

Our baby.

What about my baby?

Papa was dead serious about this arrangement with Luca, which meant that my baby could not be in the picture.

Would I have to…. No. No. I didn’t want to think about it. I wouldn’t let them take this from me, too. The raging storm building up inside wasn’t just about Zver’s seed inside me; it was everything. Papa’s manipulative games. This absurd marriage proposal. The suffocating weight of expectations that had probably been crushing me for as long as I could remember, and I never really noticed. And now, it was too much.

I needed to get out of here.

Away from that dipshit, Luca. Away from Papa. Away from all of it.

My shoes thudded sharply against the marble floor as I backed away. “I can’t do this.”

“Leonora!”

“ Mi dispiace , Papa, but I just can’t think right now.”

Turning around, I bolted toward the door and to my car, which was still sitting by the fountain. Marco still stood there, not even trying to stop me. For that, I was grateful.

The sharp, cold air outside hit me like a slap, but it did little to clear my mind. I jumped into my car, strapping my seatbelt, and fumbled with my hands to start the engine.

Déjà vu.

I was back here again, in this dark hole Rafayel had saved me from barely a moment ago. Only, the hole was a lot darker this time, with louder voices screaming at me.

Rubber burned against asphalt as I pulled away. My heart was pounding so loud that I felt it in my eardrums. I didn’t know where I was going, only that I needed to get far, far away.

The road blurred ahead of me as I fought to suppress the tears threatening to spill, and I remembered how Rafayel found me in the first place. Even if Papa didn’t care, my mother did. She would probably never know, but not having her in my life spurred me to make something of my life. To fill the shoes Matteo and Papa needed at the time, even if they didn’t know it.

I lifted two fingers to my head, then my chest, then to my shoulders, and finally to my lips.

This madness wasn’t over—not by a long shot. But Papa was right about one thing.

I was a lot stronger than a few cuts and bruises.