Debt to the Mafia King

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Leah

Cheap smells, cheap goods, even the flickering lights felt cheap. And they gave me a god damn headache every single night.

Of course, there had been one customer.

Nervously, I plucked at a loose thread in the knee of my jeans. They were basically falling apart, held together by pure willpower. I did not have the money for new clothes. Not even well-worn new clothes.

The man who had come in earlier, though? The one with the dark hair streaked like salt and pepper grey at the temples had been so beautifully dressed that I had no doubt his underwear cost more than every single item of clothing I owned.

He had been rich, not flashy rich. He wasn’t trying to show off when his perfectly tailored cashmere jacket sleeve had lifted to show off the watch that probably cost six digits. He had just been rich .

Old money rich.

The string came loose, and I played with it absently, rolling it between my fingers. It wasn’t his obvious wealth that was still bothering me. It wasn’t even that he clearly was in the wrong part of town and didn’t belong.

He was dangerous.

The moment I had seen him staring at me from the driver’s side of his sleek European car, a wave of apprehension had rippled through me.

And that apprehension had just grown when he had swung his huge frame out of the car and pushed his way into the little shop attached to the gas station I was currently working in.

Up close, he had been even more daunting. Not his handsome face, that was exquisitely beautiful, but his air, his mannerisms.

His entire self had been so self-assured. He walked, and people followed him with their eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if they bowed. I’d be even less surprised if he expected them too.

“These.” His whisky coloured eyes had raked over me and forced my heart to speed up as he slid the cereal bar over the worn countertop towards me. I reached for it, my hand shaking. He reached for it at the same time, and our fingertips brushed.

A jolt of shocking electricity zapped through me, and I yanked my arm back.

“Printsessa.”

My eyes darted up to find him smiling down at me like the cat that got the cream. Frowning, I rang up the single item and forced myself to smile.

Dangerous.

I had to remember that.

Even the way he called me princess sounded like a threat.

It wasn’t the sweet endearment from an older man.

And he sure was that. No, this man wasn’t someone’s sweet grandpa.

This was a man in the prime of his life.

Maybe forty, maybe a little older, but if he was older, then he looked great for his age, and handsome in a way that felt hard.

Pretty, beautiful even, but in a way that was so masculine that it was impossible to ignore.

“That will be—” I stuttered and let my eyes travel up to his face again.

God, he was tall as well, well over six feet, and his shoulders under his expensive wool coat were broad.

“No one else here?” Completely ignoring my half-asked question, he leaned over the counter and invaded my personal space.

His scent enveloped me, some expensive cologne and under that something completely masculine. I clenched my thighs together.

There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver behind the cash register, but I tried to anyway.

Leaning back so far that the stool threatened to topple backwards.

Reaching out, he caught my wrist and righted me.

“Careful now, Printsessa.” He said in a thick accent that instantly made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“If you get hurt here, then there’s no one around to help you.”

I jumped to my feet, yanking my arm out of his grasp. “I’m not a princess,” I snapped, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a smile.

“And I sure as hell don’t need protecting. I’m not a damsel in distress. Now that will be—”

The smile on his gorgeous, angular face dropped, his lips curved downwards. “Not a princess,” he mocked. “Got it, and it’s noted that you know a little Russian,” he said something else in a language I didn’t understand.

Staring at him blankly, I watched as he dropped loose change into my palm.

“Maybe I was wrong about the Russian?” He chuckled.

“Indeed. You get home safe now.” It was the politest way I knew how to tell someone to get lost and leave me alone, and for a second, I thought he was going to say something else, but all he did was walk away, leaving the oat bar on the counter.

“Sir?” I called out after him, but he didn’t once look back and within seconds had peeled away. Shaking my head and bringing myself back to reality, I sighed.

Strange. The whole encounter had been strange, but could I honestly say it was the strangest encounter I had ever had here? Of course not, doing the graveyard shift at a gas station meant I met and interacted with lots of colorful characters. Some are violent, most are drunk.

It was just not usual for a man like him to come in here, with his looks, his wealth, and that damn accent. I winced back, closing my eyes as a wave of pain swept through me. It had been two weeks since Alek’s funeral. And three months since I had ended things.

That’s why the tall Russian had freaked me out so much. I realized with a start that it was the accent. Alek’s hadn’t been that thick or that gravelly, but they were both clearly Russian.

“Leah?”

Letting out a scream, I toppled off the stool and landed heavily on my knees.

“Shit, Leah.” Two hands reached down with a chuckle to help me up. “You must have been in a world of your own. I thought you would have heard me come through the back?”

Climbing to my feet, I dusted off the knees of my jeans and found a little hole in one. I stuck my finger into it and wiggled it. Just great.

“Why did you come in the back way?” Straightening, I glared at my co worker.

“Saw something back there that caught my attention.” He shrugged. “Any problems tonight?”

Sliding back onto the stool, I shook my head. “No, it’s been quiet. I’ve been really bored.”

Jumping up on the counter, Dion, the day cashier, studied me with a wry smile. “So the car parked out back isn’t some boyfriend that’s come to keep you company?”

Confused, I stared at him. “Boyfriend?” I parroted back before I realized what he had said. “What do you mean, there is a car out back? What kind of car?”

Without waiting for an answer, I rushed toward the door that led to the store room and the metal door that led out onto a back alley.

No one ever parked out there. Neither I, Dion, nor the other people who worked here had the money for a car, although Dion was saving hard for one, and the boss always parked his flashy Cadillac out front where people could see.

Flinging open the the door, I stared out into…nothing.

There was nothing there but a light, drizzly rain falling in the stacks of cardboard boxes and trash.

“What’s going on, Leah?” Catching my shoulder, Dion turned me around to face him.

Now Dion wasn’t a big man. He was taller than me, but that wasn’t exactly hard, and he was pretty slim. He wasn’t the kind of man who would be your first choice for protector, but in that moment, I was glad he was here.

“It’s probably nothing.” Slamming the door shut, I threw the latch and headed back toward the shop.

“You freaked out—“ Dion chuckled from behind me. “I’ve never seen you act like that before. You don’t freak out about anything.”

“It’s nothing,” I repeated,

“Wait.” Catching up with me, he blocked my path. “Did something happen tonight?”

“There was a man—“

Dark bushy eyebrows shot upwards. “A man? Did he hurt you?” Reaching up, he ran his hand through his hair and made it stand on end. “I told them to put me on the night shift and not you. It’s not safe. I told them it’s not safe.”

I cut off his rant. “Nothing happened. Honest to God, Dion, he didn’t touch me. He was just a little—“ I trailed off, what was the right word?

Scary? Sure, that covered some of it, but not all of it.

“Intense.” I finally found the right word .

Dion’s eyebrows rose even higher. “Intense in what way?”

“I was sure he was watching me from this expensive European car, and when he finally came in,” I shook my head. It sounded so silly now, being freaked out by something so mundane.

“He called me Printsessa.”

“He was Russian?”

“Without a doubt,” I admitted.

“Do you think he knows Alek? I mean, knew Alek before his accident?”

My heart twisted. I would never get used to talking about Alek in the past tense. Sure, we had broken up, but that didn’t mean I didn’t care. It didn’t mean I was glad he was dead.

“No,” I said sadly. “This guy was rich. Like old money rich, and like I said, he was really intense.”

“Makes sense. The car I saw wasn’t something you would usually see around these parts. It’s what got my attention to begin with. It’s probably just a coincidence, and the fact that he was Russian just threw you. It makes sense, Leah. How many nights in a row have you worked now?”

Frowning, I struggled to remember. “I don’t know, maybe twenty or so, and a few day shifts as well.” I shrugged. “I’ve done more.”

“Not when you were grieving, you haven’t,” he threw a brotherly arm around my shoulders. “You have three days off now, don’t you? Use them, don’t let anyone bully you into coming in to cover. It’s not your responsibility.”

I knew what he was saying was true, but honestly, coming to work was the only thing that had kept me going since Alek had passed. It helped to keep busy.

“Go home, Leah,” he said, leading me toward the door and grabbing my coat on the way. He thrust it into my hands. “Go home, sleep, eat, and— what is it?”

Frozen just inside the door, I stared out, orange white light, garish colored gas pumps, and, in the shadows, grey squat buildings.

The sun hadn’t risen yet, but there was a kind of greyish hue to the air, and it was quiet, like the city was holding its breath before it woke up. Usually, I liked the quiet walk home, but today I was dreading it.

“The car is gone, Leah,” Dion said quietly. “He was just a customer. You don’t have anything to worry about, but I can call you an Uber if you want.”

I wanted nothing more than that. I really did. “No, it’s fine. I don’t want to waste money on an Uber. It’s not a far walk.” Reaching up, I pressed my lips to his cheek. “Mine later for a drink?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” he beamed at me. “And call me when you get home, ok?”

I walked out into the quiet. Dion was right. The sleek, black car was nowhere in sight. The streets were empty.

So, why did it feel like someone was watching my every move?