Unholy Tsar: A Dark Mafia Romance (Ruthless Dynasty Book 4)

Chapter 14

“Damn it! Where the hell are these vermin hiding?” I growl, frustration bubbling in my chest.

It’s been two whole days already and I still haven’t been able to track them down. I expected to have them in my custody by now. But no, they seem to have vanished into thin air.

How could they have just disappeared off the surface of the earth like that?

Who could be covering for them? Because obviously, someone is. That’s the only way anyone could escape me for this long.

“I don’t think it’s the random kidnapping that Miss Lombardi thinks it was. What if she was specifically targeted?” Dante asks, pacing in front of my desk.

I’m already way ahead of him. There’s no way this was a random kidnapping attempt, that’s for sure. But was it a ghost from her past or something else? That’s what I need to figure out.

“Either way, we have bigger problems now,” he continues.

I raise a brow at him. “What?”

“It’s the Italians.”

I sigh. “I knew they were being too quiet. What do those bastards want now?”

Dante hesitates. “Word’s gotten out about Miss Lombardi. We’ve been turning the city inside out trying to find her kidnappers. Naturally, our allies have questions, as do our enemies. They wonder what’s so important about her. They… think you two are in a relationship.”

“And?” I ask, but I already know where this is leading.

“There are whispers about how the great Maksim Smolov has been brought to his knees by a peasant Italian girl. A nobody—a girl half his age.”

“Well, that’s just fucking great,” I let out a bitter laugh. “I’ll have to remind them who I am. Maybe that will shut them up. Fuck. I guess they’ve forgotten about what happened to Adrianno Sabattino because of his greed.”

“There is more, sir.”

“What? They’re upset I haven’t chosen one of their precious daughters?” I roll my eyes, knowing their game all too well. They did the same thing with Rian, shoving their kin down his throat in desperate attempts for new alliances.

“They claim that you’ve been showing her more respect than them. That if young Italian girls are what you’re into, then their daughters are more than suitable for you.”

My fingers curl into a fist. As much as I hate most of the Italian families, they’re a large part of the fragile peace we’ve been enjoying. If they decide to make a fuss of whatever this is between me and Cecilia, it won’t end well.

“Fucking assholes,” I mutter, then in a louder voice. “Make it clear to them Cecilia and I aren’t having an affair… or whatever they think this is. She’s simply my niece’s best friend, whom I’m teaching along with my niece. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Dante hesitates once again, and I can feel my patience starting to wear thin. “What is it now? Spit it out.”

“There’s been grumblings among the men as well. They’re aware that you’ve been keeping her safe in one of your apartments, so they think there might be a lick of truth to the rumors. They’re getting antsy.”

I sigh. “Stop going around in circles and just get to the point, Dante.”

“If I may, sir, I suggest you spend less time with her in private. If the men see you treating her like any other student, they’ll realize your dynamic is nothing more than teacher and student.”

But that could be a problem, because our dynamic isn’t just teacher and student. Fucking hell.

I study my head of security for a moment. Does he really have no idea about what’s been happening between me and Cecilia? I doubt that. He was there that first night when I brought her home. He must suspect something is up.

“Alright,” I finally answer, “You have a point. I’ll keep it in mind.”

He gives a short bow, then leaves my office.

I lean back in my chair, feeling a weight setting in my chest. Maybe this is for the best. I was starting to lose myself, and I was definitely getting too absorbed for my own good. I need to let go of this attraction. She’s far too young for me anyway.

If only it were as easy as just letting go.

My phone alarm chimes, and I groan softly when I see the notification. Time for another lesson. Then I recall Nolan’s text from this morning, saying that Bree wouldn’t be available for today’s session—apparently, our little heiress has been set up on a blind date.

So it will just be Cecilia and me.

As if she wasn’t going to be hard enough to kick already.

I text Dante to send a few men to the practice range on the second floor, then I make my way there.

But first, I need to collect my pupil.

“What do you think about Bree’s blind date?” Cecilia asks as soon as I open the door to her room—well, my room. Shit. I need to send her back to Bree’s place or at least to her apartment until the rumors die down.

Her presence here will only add fuel to the fire.

“It is what it is,” I say nonchalantly. “Are you ready for your lesson?”

She twirls around in front of me with a grin, “Do you even have to ask?”

The girl is in a surprisingly good mood for someone who was almost kidnapped recently. Her tiny body seems to be holding up pretty well, too. She’s a tough one, not to mention—

No. Stop it. Control yourself.

I’ve been forcing myself not to glance anywhere below her neckline—I’m trying to fight the attraction, not stoke it. But I’m helpless as she twirls. Cecilia is wearing one of my shirts and a pair of my pants. They’re ridiculously oversized on her, and she’s had to tie up the hem on the pants so it won’t trip her, but goddamn, she looks good, even if her figure is completely disguised by the bagginess of her outfit. The combination of the shirt and trousers on her swallows up her curves and should make her look masculine.

Still to me, she’s never looked more beautiful. I gulp as my cock stirs in my pants, and I quickly turn away. “It will do. Now come.”

“Ugh,” she complains as she walks up to me. Together, we make our way to the foyer. “I look ugly, don’t I? I need my card back so I can order some clothes in my size—or maybe one of your men can bring my clothes from my apartment?”

“That won’t be unnecessary,” I inform her, not bothering to point out that it’s my card and not hers. I press the button to call the elevator, and it slides open right away. “You’re going back to your apartment as soon as this lesson is over,” I add, walking inside. The sooner I distance myself from her, the sooner the rumors will die down, and the sooner the Italians can be put back in their place.

Cecilia just gapes at me as the elevator doors start to close. I push my hand between them, and they slide back open. “Are you coming or what?”

After a moment of hesitation, I see a familiar defiance light up her pretty eyes. Her lips curl slightly as she steps in.

For a moment, all is quiet. Then she speaks up again. “I think setting Bree up on a blind date in this day and age is archaic.”

We’re back to that? I raise a brow at her. “And how would you have her find love?”

She scoffs at me. “Love doesn’t exist, or if it does, it never lasts. It’s just a pretty facade that fades with time, so it doesn’t make sense to base a lifelong partnership on it. Why bother with it?”

I almost laugh.

“Based on personal experience, I might actually agree with you—but Bree’s parents have been happily married for decades, and they’re still in love. Same with her aunts and uncles, and even some of her cousins. They’re all proof that love can last.”

Cecilia shrugs. “They’re just exceptions to the rule.”

She’s right, of course. “Maybe so. But what experience do you have to make you believe love is so fickle?”

Her eyes widen, and she quickly backtracks. “Experience? What experience? What are you talking about?” The elevator comes to a stop on the second floor, and the door slides open. She scurries out, leaving me to watch her through narrowed eyes.

Hmm, interesting.

“Where are we going anyway?” she asks.

I gesture to the thick double doors ahead. A few of my men are already stationed outside. They straighten their spines as we approach. I nod and one of them quickly opens the door.

Behind me, Cecilia gasps softly. “Wow, it-it’s huge.”

I’ve heard her say that before. And the memory only brings on a new wave of temptation.

“It will do.”

I lead her into the large gym that features a private gun range. There’s one big room set up with gym equipment and several doors leading to other rooms. “The whole place is soundproofed,” I explain. “So don’t worry about waking anyone up.”

“Are you expecting us to be loud?”

“Guns tend to be loud, little one,” I quip, earning a nod from her in response.

Her eyes wander around the room, taking in the unusual stillness. None of the men are working out now, but there are usually a few of them hitting the punching bags or the weights. Now instead, they just seem to be aimlessly hanging around, avoiding making any eye contact with me. I guide Cecilia to one of the doors and open it, revealing the first private gun range.

I purposely leave the door open so the men can see inside. After all, that’s the main reason I asked them to be here—as witnesses to prove just how… platonic our relationship is.

Cecilia pauses, glancing between me and the men. “Why are you keeping the door open?”

“So they can act as witnesses.”

“Witnesses to what?”

“My honesty.”

She rolls her eyes. “Honesty? What does that even mean?”

“Just that. They’re here to make sure we stay on track.”

A frown creases her forehead.

And then her jaw drops.

“You don’t trust yourself alone with me,” she realizes.

I give her a pointed look, “I think we can both agree on that.”

She grins. The minx, “Even when I’m in this baggy outfit?”

I don’t dignify that with an answer. Instead, I walk into the gun range. She follows me in with a huff, then gasps at the sight of it all.

The walls are painted a sleek gun-metal gray, while the floor is carpeted to muffle sounds. A locked shelf stands against one wall, holding an array of different guns, and next to that, another shelf displays rows of earmuffs and goggles. Directly in front of us, two stalls beckon, and beyond them, some paper targets await.

“Very impressive,” Cecilia murmurs, her tone filled with awe. I make my way to a locker and pull out the wooden pistol stashed inside.

“No way,” Cecilia grumbles when I hand it to her. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why do you even have that in here?”

“This is what my men use when they first start gun practice. It helps them hone their stance without worrying about recoil or accidental firings—we wouldn’t want a repeat of when you slashed me with that knife the other day. Speaking of that—”

I can see the panic flash in her eyes at the mention of the knife she stole. Thinking on her feet, she rolls her eyes and snatches the wooden gun from me. “Whatever. Let’s just get to it then.”

I sigh. “You’re holding it all wrong, and your stance is terrible.”

“What? No, it’s not. I’ve watched a lot of action movies; this is how the cops hold their guns. And then they go pish pish pish pish—” She bends her knees and turns around, mimic shooting with exaggerated movements.

I resist the urge to facepalm. “Are you going to listen to me, a fucking expert, or are you going to rely on what you thought you saw in some movie?”

She grins cheekily. “Alright, alright. I was just teasing you.”

I take the wooden gun from her and demonstrate. “You hold a pistol in your dominant hand with your middle, ring, and pinky fingers as high on the grip under the trigger as possible. Make sure there’s enough gap between your thumb and index finger on the rear of the slide so it doesn’t hinder the gun’s backward movement when it’s shot.”

Her frown speaks volumes of her confusion. So I explain again, speaking slower and using simpler terms, while also showing her with my own hands. It takes over thirty minutes before she finally starts getting the hang of it.

“I’m holding it! I’m holding it!” she assures me, annoyance mixing with excitement.

“So you are,” I say proudly. “Now, for the stance, you need a steady and firm footing; otherwise, when the gun recoils, you’ll end up on your ass. Stand up straight and face the target squarely with your feet spread shoulder–width apart.”

“Like this?” she asks, trying to copy the stance I described.

“Yes. Now, raise the gun to your eye level and extend both of your arms fully.” I watch closely as she attempts it. She raises the gun and extends her arms, looking determined. “That’s it. Good girl.”

She flushes at my praise. My breath lodges in the back of my throat, and I take a quick step back. “Now, you”re ready for a real gun.”

Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. I’m just desperate for a distraction.

A gorgeous grin spreads out under those rosy cheeks as I return the wooden gun back to the closet and unlock the gun shelf. I take out a Glock 19, the perfect choice for any beginner because it’s simple to take apart for cleaning, has great range, and best of all, can be easily concealed.

Really, I should teach her how to clean it first, but she’s so visibly excited that I decide to let her get a shot or two in first.

I make sure the safety is on before handing her the gun.

She accepts it reverently.

“Careful, little one,” I mumble, ready to spring into action if she makes even the slightest wrong move. “Here.”

I tell her to take her stance in front of one of the stalls, then I show her how to take off the safety. “Good. Now try pulling the trigger.” I lead her into position as she aims. I’ve never seen such a bright smile in my life. It feels endless… until she pulls the trigger and misses the target.

But I won’t allow her time to get discouraged.

“Again,” I order, taking a few steps away to study her. She keeps shooting, but can’t for the life of her get the bullets to go straight.

“Damn it,” she curses, her shoulders drooping as she puts the safety back on the gun and turns to face me. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal… but I think the wound on my hand is making me flinch. That’s why I keep missing the target.”

“The wound is not on your dominant hand,” I remind her. “That’s not what’s stopping you. It’s your stance.”

“What? But I got it right, you said so.”

“Yes. You get the stance, but when it’s time to shoot, you shift your feet back. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for you to miss your target. Here.” I move closer to her and turn her body to face the target. “Get in stance.”

She does as I say, and I place my hand on her spine to keep her steady. “Now, shoot.”

As the gun goes off, the deafening bang echoes through the air, followed by the pungent smell of gunpowder. My eyes dart to the target, seeing the bullet piercing through the stomach.

Not bad.

“Yes!” she shouts, clicking the safety back on before dropping the gun on the counter. “I fucking did it!”

I can’t help but smile as she joyfully raises her hand and bounces around the room. Her happiness is infectious.

Still, I know she has a long way to go. I’ll get her there, though.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I tense up when I see the caller ID.

Keir.

I texted him last night to look into Cecilia’s kidnappers. Does he have something for me already? I glance up at Cecilia, still caught up in her happy dance, and silence the call.

I’ll get back to him later when I’m alone.

“That’s enough for today’s lesson, Myshka. Now, come with me.”