Mafia Prince’s Secret Baby (New York Bratva)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

KATYA

It’s not every day that one of my brothers gets married. I watch the altar where Nikolai stands, his face practically glowing. He’s never been this happy. But how could he not be, when the love of his life is standing next to him, ready to promise him forever?

Katarina is pure elegance, a vision in white silk. Her blonde hair is meticulously curled and pinned in place, a delicate tiara perched on top of her head. It’s probably crafted from the finest crystal, refracting the chandelier light into soft, multicolored halos that dance across her skin. She looks otherworldly.

A tear sneaks past my defenses, and as I swipe it away, my gaze locks on Igor.

Damn him.

Katarina’s brother catches me looking and winks at me, his lips curving into a devilish grin that’s both infuriating and ridiculously sexy. It’d be easier to ignore him if he weren’t so unfairly good-looking. But Igor is the kind of man who has only gotten hotter—and cockier—with age. Now, with his rugged features sharpened and solidified into a masterpiece, he carries an ego to match.

My brothers have warned me about him. They’ve told me stories—how his womanizing, swaggering ways nearly ruined Nikolai and Katarina. That he’s selfish, dangerous, and cruel.

But my brothers are cut from the same cloth. If there’s evil in this world, it was forged by the hands of our fathers and passed down to all of us. So, really, why waste my energy obsessing over Igor’s flaws?

What I can obsess over is the fact that he’s hot as hell.

It’s important to appreciate beauty, especially when it’s staring back at you with a smirk that practically screams, I’m yours for the taking.

There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun, right? My career as a lawyer keeps me busy, and I’ve had my fair share of one-night stands. And being with Igor? That could prove even more exhilarating—especially since it would piss off my overbearing brothers.

“You may kiss the bride,” the priest announces, his voice cutting through my thoughts.

The crowd erupts into applause as Nikolai pulls Katarina into his arms, burying a hand in her perfectly made-up hair. Their kiss is messy, impatient, and full of unrestrained desire. Elegant, it is not.

Oh, to have someone devour me with that kind of wild abandon.

On the other side of the altar, Igor watches me with that same infuriating smirk, his tongue dragging slowly across his teeth. Heat rushes up my neck, prickling my skin, but I drop my gaze, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing how he affects me.

Except I can’t help myself. I glance back.

He catches me.

I gulp down a shaky breath as his lips curve into a slow, confident smile that sends a rush of heat through me.

Hot damn.

His eyes sweep over my dress—a sleek, formal gown. The way he looks at me steals my breath away.

My thighs clench as his smirk deepens, his teeth sinking into his lower lip in a way that shouldn’t be legal in the state of New York.

What the hell?

As Igor’s attention shifts to scan the rest of the guests, I’m left trying to steady my breath and ignore the fact that in the span of thirty seconds, he’s turned me on more than anyone has in a long time.

Of course, Vasiliy notices. My brother leans into Igor with a pointed elbow and whispers something I can’t hear, but it’s not hard to guess. Vasiliy saw that look, and he’s warning Igor off.

Naturally, that only makes me want Igor more. Because if there’s one thing I can’t resist, it’s defying my brothers.

Now more than ever, I want to know what it would feel like to have him buried inside of me.

There would be no consequences. No attachments.

Just one night, and then I’ll move on.

As the ceremony ends, Nikolai takes Katarina’s hand and leads her down the aisle. I follow, a string of bridesmaids trailing behind me. But as soon as we step outside the church, I slip away, craving a moment alone before the chaos of the reception begins.

The weather is perfect—crisp air, a gentle breeze, sunlight filtering through the trees. I wander along a pebbled path, letting the beauty of the estate calm my racing thoughts. The hedge maze looms ahead, its labyrinthine twists inviting, but I stop at a fountain instead.

The soft trickle of water soothes me as I lean against the edge, steadying my breath.

“Fuck, Katya, you look fine.” His voice, thick and husky, rolls over my back, making me grow hot.

I spin, a lump clogging in my throat. This isn’t the same man from the chapel. His eyes are different. The cockiness from before has given way to a primal want that emanates from every pore in his body.

He walks up to me with strong, assured steps, caging me against the marble structure, smothering me in his heat. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“What do you want?” I turn the question back on him.

“Trying to get a taste of the forbidden fruit,” his bold voice washes over me like a warm blanket.

I swallow hard. Dirty images flash in my mind as his lazy smile broadens with satisfaction.

Igor moves closer and presses his palm on the marble, still keeping his distance.

“You’re quiet,” he drawls. “I suppose you’re curious too.”

“Of course not, you... asshole.” My words are harsh, but there’s no bite to them. He doesn’t respond to my disingenuous outburst. But my skin feels like it’s engulfed in flames.

“I like your accent,” he says slowly.

“Is that so?”

“Russian women always sound sexy. And you’re fiery to top it off.”

He lowers his head, his blue eyes almost translucent in the glaring sun. My fingers itch to reach up and touch his face, and I fist them to stop myself. His mouth hovers over mine and stills, his sharp intake of breath louder than the gentle water rippling behind me.

“I could look at you for a hundred years and I’d never get my fill,” he breathes.

His fingers trace over my skin, barely making contact as they leave a scorching trail behind. His featherlight touch evolves into a bolder caress, massaging the skin across my shoulders, wrapping around my neck, fisting my hair to the scalp and tugging until I tip my head back, offering him full access to the beating pulse in my neck.

His eyes locked on mine, he swipes his tongue over my lips. Helpless, I open my mouth for him, allowing him access. His kiss is a tangle of silk and promise, and I nearly lose my mind right then and there.

I sway a little while he consumes me, branding my skin and turning my blood into lava. If I didn’t have him to hold onto, I might crumble to the ground. He swallows a whimper that makes it past the wall of my throat, attacking my lips once again.

His taste is dizzying. I can’t breathe. But air isn’t worth much without his mouth claiming mine. He tastes of wine, cigars, and his manly fragrance—aftershave mixed with arousal. The scent only men with money can afford.

When we come up for air, we’re panting, chests pulsing with hasty beats. “I want to feel you wrapped around my cock,” he murmurs against my lips, voice oozing with desire.

“You need to work harder if you think that line’s going to get you in my bed,” I whisper against his cheek, running my lips along his scratchy jawline. All I can think is that the stubble on his face tastes like salt.

“Who said anything about a bed?”

Oh, dear.

“I’ll have you standing, in the backyard of this church, in the middle of the maze, up against this marble fountain,” he growls, his words enflaming my center while his thick erection prods my hip. My fingers dance over the fabric of his jacket, loving the feel of the muscle underneath as he rubs against me.

The worst part is that I’m going to give into the temptation. Although perhaps that isn’t so bad. Maybe there’s no bad part about this, but only fun ones. Yes, I’m going with fun.

“I dare you,” I challenge with a sly smile, pushing the loose strands of hair away from my face.

In response, I get another hard kiss that nearly sends me to my knees. It’s a good thing I’m pressed up against the fountain, or he’d have sent me flat on my ass with those lips alone.

His hand slides along my breast, over my stomach, and further down. When his fingers finally reach my pussy, he smiles, no doubt feeling the evidence of my want.

“You naughty volchitsa .” He growls as he uses the Russian word for she-wolf, a smirk tipping the corner of his lips. His gaze darkens as he furrows his brows, probably considering his options. Then his expression clears, and I know he has made a decision.

He pushes me to my knees with so much force, I’m stunned into silence. I swallow, looking up at his blue-gray irises—darker than before, almost navy now. They flash as I reach for the bulge straining his tailored pants.

As I unbuckle him, his hand fists in my hair, and I relish the pull. When I release him from his confines, his dick juts up.

Fuck, he’s big.

Arousal slithers down my thighs, alerting me that I should play it carefully. Who knows what sex with him could make me say and agree to.

I have to remind myself that this is a one-time deal.

Tomorrow morning, I’ll be taking the first flight back to Moscow.

But right now, I’m going to enjoy him. I’m going to have fun.

After giving him a slow, tight stroke, I grin. There’s a tiny bit of hesitancy in his otherwise calculated and practiced moves. I never expected it from someone like Igor, and I can’t say I hate it. In fact, it sets me off in a twisted sort of way,encouraging me to look for more.

Running my tongue over his warm flesh, I circle the head, lapping the pre-cum seeping in a thin line. I tease him with slow strokes of my tongue, not letting him know yet how badly I want him to sink into me, how terribly I crave having him.

Before I lose my cool facade and let him touch the hot core throbbing between my thighs, I drag him past the edge of my tongue and into my mouth. It takes some maneuvering before he fits completely, but the second his throbbing rod slides all the way in, the hard tip of his dick rubbing against the inner flesh of my throat, I moan, the sound vibrating against his body.

“Oh, fuck.” He grits his teeth, pounding into me. My gag reflex works, my saliva thickening. But he pulls out fast, leaving a rush of cold air in his place. “Not like this.”

Then his hands are on my shoulders, pulling me up.

“I want to enjoy you as long as possible.”

This time, he grips me tight with both hands, turning me to face the water fountain and pushing my chest over the edge.

My fingers curl around the stone as he bunches the dress up my back, hiking it up to the pinnacle of my ass. It’s chilly out here, but his erection pressing against my butt cheek is anything but. His cock is thick and throbbing, wanting a taste of my wet pussy. And boy, he’s in for a treat. My panties are damp, eager to have his slickness mix with mine.

At this point, no sound in the world can penetrate the space around us. All I hear is my harsh breathing. I clench my teeth, gasping when he roughly grabs me and tears my panties off. He strokes his length several times before burying himself deep inside of me. We grunt in unison, and, as if we’re not even human, we go on a primitive rampage, completely blinded by the carnal cravings that overtake our senses.

There’s nothing gentle about the way I fuck his rock-hard dick. I grind and slide my body on his, meeting him midway every time he pounds into me. I push myself up and bend my back, tipping my head to rest on his firm shoulders.

His blue eyes land on me as he keeps thrusting. With a sly smirk, he trails a hand over my ass and then wraps an arm around me, placing two fingers in front of my lips. I take them in my mouth, sucking and moaning against them as he rocks his body into mine.

“You’re making it extremely difficult to extend this for as long as possible,” he says with a grunt, not breaking eye contact.

His dick pulses, my legs are quivering, my throat’s gone dry, and yet, the orgasm I’m chasing feels like it’s miles and miles away.

He trails his soaked fingers to my clit, rubbing the most erogenous spot of a woman in a practiced move that turns me into a vile, needy whore.

“There we go,” he praises in a low voice, and I buck, my thighs clenching as he fucks me harder, his cock gliding in and out, faster, pounding all my worries away. “Come for me, Katya.”

And I do.

Hard.

My spine goes limp as I crash forward, and if it weren’t for the steady power of his frame, I’d nearly be splashing into the water fountain. He pulls me back and sucks my skin in between his teeth, biting the soft flesh, groaning, spilling inside me.

All that remains is heavy breathing as the wind rustles the air, playing with the discarded piece of fabric on the ground. But I can’t bear to think about my torn panties right now. It doesn’t bother me, the post-orgasmic high clouding my vision and thoughts.

None of it matters. This was just a one-time deal anyway.