Luerna (Morozov Mafia)

1. Meet

Chapter one

Meet

L uerna never saw herself as a mother. When she was a young girl, she had plenty of dreams of being the CEO of one of her father’s many companies. She already had her college of choice picked out at fifteen, wearing Moscow University hoodies on crazy cold days in Russia.

But when the family required you to give up parts of yourself, you did it. No questions. No begging. Even when they asked you to marry a man twenty years older than you. You did it.

And that was a woman’s role in a mafia family: a sacrificial pawn.

Luerna laid on the couch with one baby sucking at her breast while its twin was asleep between her legs. It was postpartum depression that was attacking her now. Two weeks after birth, her emotions were a terrible mess. She didn’t know night from day and had no self-worth other than being a designated milk machine. On top of the things she never saw in her life, breastfeeding was up there. Luerna imagined that if she had children, she’d at least have a wet nurse like her mother, but her husband didn’t like that idea. Rurik wanted his children to have the absolute best. He didn’t care if Luerna was mentally unstable, barely keeping her head above the surface.

But I don’t matter, do I?

It was a stupid thought. Of course, she mattered. Who would get their older kids ready for school? Who would cook breakfast, lunch, and dinner? The family maid, Silvia, had strict guidelines to follow. ‘No one else will raise our children,’ her husband declared.

Then he hires a tutor, Luerna snickered. But she wasn’t going to point out this flaw. A win is a win.

Luerna moaned in pain. Her breasts were constantly full, and they ached like overused muscles. The twins sucked every hour in their cluster-feeding phase. She hadn’t bothered to get off the couch since she put her other children to bed. There was a tray of snacks beside her stocked with water, peanuts, and chocolate. It wasn’t the best diet, but currently, it was her only one. She didn’t have time to cook. And even if she did, she’d use it to sleep.

Luerna rubbed a tear off her cheek. Feeling sorry for herself was unlike her, and she tried to combat it. She was a positive thinker, never holding grudges or hating the life she had. She enjoyed being the daughter of a mafia boss. The money was addicting. This house she grew up in was worth twenty million dollars and held every beautiful artifact collected by her family over the years. But none of these fantastic artifacts could help her hold her babies in a moment like this.

Luerna looked down at her phone. She could call her mother. Ask her for help, and no doubt Tatianna would come running with her high heels and painted face, talking about what a gorgeous day it was outside and how they must go for a stroll. But Luerna didn’t want her mother. Tatianna was a picture, lifeless and unfeeling, and Luerna didn’t need a reminder of her future.

Instead, Luerna thought to phone her sister, Kira. Six years younger, unmarried, no kids, she was Luerna’s best friend, and currently upstairs writing a paper for school. Kira was a unique soul, believing in the cosmos and energy of the planet. She’d know how to handle this ridiculous bout of depression. Maybe there was some spiritual-scented candle that could suck the negativity out.

Luerna moved, and her baby popped off her breast and instantly started crying. “No, it’s okay.” Luerna desperately grabbed the back of the baby’s head and directed him back to her nipple. After a hard suck that nearly made her cry, the baby latched back on, desperate for every last drop. Luerna fell back against the couch and put a hand over her mouth to stop her sudden sob.

“Wow.”

Luerna snapped her head to the doorway. To her horror, a man stood there. Luerna snatched a burping rag from the back of the couch and draped it over her chest, “Excuse me! You don’t just walk in here while I’m breastfeeding, you sicko.”

He tilted his head to the side. “I can’t see anything. Relax.”

The light from the TV shined on her like a spotlight. “Get out.”

“Mrs. Morozov, do you know who I am?”

Luerna focused on him, but she couldn’t make out his face in the shadows. He dressed like every other mafia man she’s ever met—in a nice, tailored suit with a white undershirt and pointy shoes. And they all felt as entitled as this little creep. “You are in my home, interrupting a very private moment. I don’t care who you are. Get out before I tell my husband you were spying on me.”

To her surprise, he stepped further into the room. “How old are they?”

Luerna eyed him with a sneer. The light from the TV exposed a little more to his features and it was clear he was an attractive man. He seemed familiar but she couldn’t pinpoint where she had seen him. “Two weeks.”

“Their names?”

“Dasha and Kolya.”

He leaned over her to watch the little one sleeping between her legs. “Can you tell them apart?”

“Not yet,” Luerna embarrassingly admitted. “I draw on their feet.”

He smiled with a suppressed laugh. “Have you gotten it wrong yet?”

Luerna haughtily stuck up her chin, refusing to answer. But then it slipped out. “Maybe.”

He chuckled and met her gaze.

Luerna’s eyes widened when she took note of the dark tattoo creeping up his neck. “Oh, God.” The ring on his left hand only verified it. Luerna glanced around stupidly, realizing how awful she looked and trying to find some way to fix it. She imagined it probably smelled like body odor and old milk. She hadn’t showered in two days. She touched her knotted blond hair, wondering what to do with it.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “I won’t tell.”

“Mr. Borisyuk, forgive me.”

“No, don’t. Call me Levka.”

Luerna sat back, exhausted from her panic. She cursed Rurik for not telling her they were having such esteemed guests in their home. The Borisyuks had been family friends for the last twenty years. Levka was the only son of Ivan Borisyuk and one of her brother’s best friends. But as he was ten years younger than her, she never interacted with him directly and now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen him around in years.

Luerna maneuvered the baby off her breast, making sure to keep herself covered before she rested him on her shoulder to stand in proper greeting, only to find Levka’s hands out. “May I?”

“You want to hold a baby?”

He reached past her for the hand sanitizer, rubbing his big hands together before once more reaching out. “If you don’t mind.”

Luerna didn’t mind at all. She just wasn’t used to such a question from a man.

A Teen man. If that’s a thing.

She tossed him the burp rag before she held the little infant out to him. Levka was clumsy in his hold, tilting his body in different ways before the baby rested comfortably on his chest. He stared at the little face, and Luerna swore she saw amazement in his gaze.

Not exactly a teenager, is he? Luerna admitted as she studied him. Levka was probably eighteen or nineteen, but he had grown exponentially since she had last seen him. Luerna knew very little of Levka Borisyuk, the prince of wolves, including why he was in her house.

Bet he could deadlift a horse.

Luerna cleared her throat, shifting on the couch. She was disgusted by the way her hormones reacted, and quickly shut it down.

“I want kids.”

Luerna scoffed at the naivety. “You are still a kid yourself.”

Levka looked down at her. “I assure you, nothing about me is child-size.”

It made her laugh, but she cut herself off. She didn’t like how that insinuation made her wonder. She searched for the remote, any distraction she could find.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Remember you?” Luerna remembered a scrawny pubescent boy who would awkwardly stare at her when the boys ran through the house, but there wasn’t much else to remember.

“My father shipped me off to boarding school, but your brother Alexei was my best friend for a while.”

“I remember,” she said. “You weighed like thirty pounds.”

He cackled. “Yeah, I was a beanpole.”

Levka rocked the baby, an instinctive movement that Luerna watched with awe. Her own husband hadn’t held his newborns yet. He told her specifically, ‘ no proud man would hold a baby. ’

“A lot’s changed in the last few years. But the house is the same. You–” He was staring at her. “I didn’t think it was possible for you to get more beautiful.”

She produced a horrible donkey laugh. “Yeah, right.” There was melted chocolate in her silk pajamas, and dried milk stains splattered along her shirt and pants, his lie was unnecessary.

Suddenly self-conscious, Luerna went to stand up, having completely forgotten about the second baby between her legs. She nearly knocked him off the couch. Her heart wrenched as she grabbed him. Thankfully, the baby didn’t wake, but it didn’t stop the wave of failure from slicing into her. Luerna held him close, not sure if it was Dasha or Kolya she was holding. Self-hatred sprung a new batch of tears.

Levka quickly set the baby in the bassinet before he kneeled down beside her. “Hey. It’s okay.”

Luerna had a hand against her face as sobs came out of her uncontrolled. “I’m sorry,” she forced out. “I’m a fucking mess.”

“Don’t apologize.”

She didn’t understand why he was here, why he was being so nice to her. She wasn’t used to the type of care that sounded in his voice.

Luerna got up and laid the baby in the second bassinet. She kept her back to Levka. Her pride was destroyed in these terrible moments. She didn’t want anyone to witness her breaking. She hated him for it and wanted to get away. Luerna wiped the stupid tears off her face, took a deep breath, and turned around to face him. “I’m sure your father is looking for you, Mr. Borisyuk. Let me escort you back to the office.”

Levka kept standing there as if he was disappointed in her response. Then he nodded and stepped back. “I know my way. Excuse me, Mrs. Morozov.”

Levka left the room, but as soon as he was in the hall, he paused and leaned against the wall.

Being in love with Luerna Morozov was a ridiculous thing to be. She was ten years his elder, married, and had four children. Nothing there had sparked any hope in ever getting her to himself. It began as a stupid teenage crush, only increasing as the years went on. Now, it was more of an infatuation. One he needed to destroy.

But he did the worst thing he could possibly do.

He spoke to her.

Levka ran a hand through his hair, clenching it painfully. It was physically painful to keep thinking of her. Luerna was so far out of his reach she might as well be dead.

But he had touched her. He had his hand on her wrist.

“There you are.” Alexei was coming down the hall. “Trouble in the bathroom?”

Levka snickered and pushed off the wall to approach him. “I hate these fucking meetings.”

“You and me both. And I got a bad feeling about this one. He called for Kira.”

“Kira?” Levka knew all the Morozov daughters, and Kira was the oddest of them. She wore gothic clothes and typically colored her hair. She used to hang with them as preteens, but speaking to her was like talking to an oracle. It always left him feeling awkward. He hadn’t spoken to her in four years since he left for boarding school, but he highly doubted she changed any.

Now, walking into the office, he saw Kira standing behind her father. Like him, she had changed in four years, now looking more like a picture-perfect runway model with dead eyes and a fake smile.

Alexei took a stand next to his sister. The family gene was impeccable. Yakov had seven children (one adopted), and they all had blue eyes like glacier ice. The two boys, Alexei and Adrik, had black hair like their father, while the four girls were blond like their mother, yet all physically fit and annoyingly brilliant. They were an incredible family, a picture of perfection for every Mafia Family to model after. It was not a wonder to Levka why his father did whatever he could to please the Morozovs.

Ivan and Yakov both stood up and shook hands. “Then it’s settled.”

Levka questioned. “What’s settled, Papa?”

Ivan slapped a hand on his shoulder and gestured toward Kira. Her bright eyes were full of silent bewilderment. “Meet your fiancée.”