Possessive Enemy (Kings Of Mafia #8)

Chapter 1

Nina

Bracing myself for whatever fresh hell my father has decided to unleash today, I push the heavy door open and step inside the office.

Boris Pavlov never calls for me unless he needs something, and it usually means I’ll be forced to suffer through whatever horrid scheme he has planned.

God help me.

The office smells the same as always. Expensive leather, cigar smoke, and whiskey. Scents that seem permanently soaked into the dark wood panels and thick carpets.

Scents that make my stomach churn with dread.

Lifting my eyes, they lock on the man who’s nothing more than my jailer. Hatred and unspeakable pain are the only things I’ve ever received from him.

Dark memories, filled with indescribable trauma, shudder through my broken mind.

Slowly, my gaze goes to the spot where my mother bled out on my eighteenth birthday. We were both called into his office, and when he ordered me to sleep with Anton Belinski so he could secure a deal with him, Mom fought back.

Boris beat her to death right in front of me for daring to oppose him. Up until that moment, I thought being abused by him was the worst fate I could suffer.

I was wrong.

Mom died, and I was locked in a bedroom. That same night, Anton raped me for the first time. My virginity was stolen violently, and since then, I’ve been the payment for every deal Boris has signed with Anton.

The past nine years of hell tighten the noose around my neck a little more as I keep quiet while watching Boris as he sits behind the enormous desk that dominates the room.

His attention is fixed on documents spread out in front of him as if I am no more than a servant entering the room rather than his daughter.

I’ve never been his daughter. The only person who loved me is dead. I don’t even know what happened to her body.

Simi’s face flashes through my mind. Her soft, pink cheeks and dark eyes make her the spitting image of me.

Even though Anton is her father, he has ignored her existence because she’s not a boy.

My daughter’s future fills me with an ungodly fear.

I’ve spent countless hours trying to come up with a plan to escape, but everytime I’ve tried, we’ve been dragged back.

Boris separated us after my last failed attempt.

As punishment, I was locked in the basement for a week while a recording of Simi crying was played on repeat.

It fractured my mind, and I haven’t been the same since.

My daughter is the only reason I’m still alive. Without her, I would’ve slit my own throat years ago.

Don’t do or say anything to upset Boris, so you can get your two hours with Simi before dinner.

It fills me with rage and heartache that Tanya is the one raising my daughter.

Just the thought of that vile woman makes my jaw tighten.

I know exactly why Tanya was chosen to care for Simi. She’s my father’s side piece, and she’d do anything he tells her.

Boris finally lifts his dead, soulless eyes. “Nina.”

The sound of his voice sends a familiar chill down my spine, the same cold feeling I have carried since childhood, since the first time I realized the man who should protect me is the one person in this world who has repeatedly broken me.

I keep my tone soft as I say, “You wanted to see me.”

It is the safest response, neutral enough that he cannot accuse me of disrespect, though I can feel tension coiling through my chest while I wait for whatever order he plans to deliver.

Boris leans back slightly in his chair and studies me with the same calculating look he always has when discussing shipments, deals, or rivals.

“You will go to a bar tomorrow night.”

The statement settles heavily between us, and suffocating dread begins to creep through my veins because I already understand what the order means.

Whenever he sends me somewhere, it always ends the same way. I’ll have to distract a man so the guards can overwhelm him. He’ll be brought to the basement, where he’ll be tortured. I’ll be forced to tend to his wounds until Boris has all the information he wants, then the man will be killed.

Many have begged me to help them. Most have slung curses and threats at me.

The shouts. The rage. The desperation. The sobbing.

I hear them all in my nightmares.

“You will approach a man named Georgi Torrisi,” Boris orders, drawing me out of my thoughts that are always dark.

Georgi Torrisi. The name doesn’t sound Bulgarian. Maybe Italian?

My father takes a slow drink from his whiskey before continuing, “He is Sicilian. One of the capos of the Cosa Nostra.”

My stomach tightens.

Cut off from the outside world and living inside this nightmare, even I’m aware of the Cosa Nostra. Boris has avoided them, so I find it weird that his focus has shifted.

“Torrisi is meeting with Atanas Perkov.”

Jesus. The head of the Bulgarian mafia.

The one enemy Boris has never been able to overthrow.

Knowing I have to somehow seduce a capo makes fear shudder through me. If I’m successful, it will incur the wrath of the most feared man in Bulgaria.

The man whose shadow sits over every criminal operation in this country while Boris Pavlov circles endlessly, desperate to claw his way into a seat of power he has never been able to claim.

“It should be easy for you to seduce Torrisi. He’s a known playboy and can’t resist a pretty face.”

I lower my gaze toward the polished surface of the desk, watching the reflection of the office lights shimmer across the wood while the familiar sense of helplessness settles into my bones.

I have no choice but to do as I’m ordered. If I resist, Simi will be hurt.

Boris lights a cigar, and a thick cloud of smoke curls toward the ceiling.

“You will gain his attention,” he continues, his tone impatient. “You will encourage him to follow you out of the bar, which is in the hotel he’s staying in. Lead him to the side of the building.”

Where the men will be waiting, ready to ambush the capo.

My father never keeps prisoners breathing unless he plans to tear answers out of them piece by piece, and a familiar heaviness settles in my chest because I already know how this will unfold. They will beat him, and it will be my job to keep him breathing so they can torture him day in and day out.

Patch them up. Stop the bleeding. Force water and food down their throats while they choke on pain. Clean wounds and close gashes because no doctor ever comes to this house.

After years of practice, I’ve become good at first aid. Good enough to keep men alive through things that should have killed them.

Besides being payment for Anton Belinsky, this has always been my role. I have to play nurse to men who will die anyway.

If anything about this insane plan goes wrong, the consequences will be catastrophic, and yet my father sits there calmly, confident that I will obey like I always do.

My father does not need to threaten me out loud.

He never does.

The unspoken threat is always there, like an invisible blade to my throat.

If I refuse…if I fail…if I do anything except exactly what he wants, the person who suffers will not be me.

It will be my sweet baby daughter who’s already seen too much violence in her short four years.

Boris watches me for a moment longer, then barks, “You will not disappoint me, Nina.”

No matter how much I hate him, no matter how badly I want to run, I will walk into that bar tomorrow night and do exactly what he demands.

For Simi.

After leaving the office, I hurry to the other wing of the mansion, and as I near the suite Simi is held in, Ivan’s heartless eyes lock on me.

He waits for me to stop in front of the door, and then smirking, he stares down at me. “Hmm…I'm not sure I should allow you to see the brat today.”

He always taunts me, and at least once every few days, he refuses me entry.

Anger pours into my chest. I hate that every vile person in this mansion has power over me. There isn’t anything I can do without risking Simi, and it kills me.

Ivan leans down until I feel his breath on my ear. “You can be glad I’m not allowed to fuck you. I’d make you pay to see the brat.” There’s a low hum in the back of his throat. “At night, I picture all the things you’d allow me to do to you.”

His words coat my skin with another layer of filth before he finally pulls back and opens the door.

I shoot forward, my heart slamming so hard it hurts as my gaze locks on Simi.

Tanya moves to stand by Ivan near the door while my precious daughter scrambles up from where she’s coloring, running with unsteady little legs toward me. Her arms reach for me as she cries, “Mama!”

“Milo moe!” My voice is strained as I drop to my knees to catch her. Pulling her into me so tight that she lets out a small sound, I brush my hands lovingly over her hair and down her back. “I missed you,” I whisper against her temple while taking a deep breath of her scent.

“I waited,” she says, her voice soft. Her fingers curl into my blouse as she presses as close to me as she can get. “I was good, Mama.”

“I know you were,” I murmur, pulling back just enough to cup her face, my thumb brushing over the swell of her rosy cheek. “You’re always good.”

She studies me, her small brows pulling together as her hand lifts and touches my cheek.

“You’re cold.”

I force a comforting smile to my face. “I’m okay.”

Simi’s lips press into a tiny line like she doesn’t believe me, then she shifts and wraps her arms tightly around my neck.

“I don’t like it here,” she whispers, her mouth close to my ear.

My chest tightens, and my heart constricts painfully, but by the grace of God, I keep my voice steady. “I know, sartse moe. I wish I could whisk us away from here.”

Simi pulls slightly back, and her gaze flicks toward the door before returning to me. “Ivan’s scary.”

I smooth her hair back. “Just don’t look at him.”

“I don’t,” she says quickly. “I look at the floor.”

“That’s good. Just keep doing it.”

She nods, then presses her cheek to my chest again. “If I’m quiet, they leave me alone.”

She’s referring to Ivan and Tanya.