Claimed as a Mafia Wife

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

Lana

Ican feel him watching me.

His eyes, out of everyone in the crowd. His intense eyes. Eyes that could take a person’s soul.

My feet sweep across the main stage. Pointe shoes. Pirouettes and arabesques. Tutu dresses that end around my thighs. It would show everything if not for my tights. The glitter on my skin that catches the stage lights, making me glow.

Making all of us ballerinas glow.

I join my position with the rest of the women who only made it in the ensemble. Not the main character. Never the main character.

I grit my teeth to avoid frowning. It’s not good for you, as my mother says. Causes wrinkles. I must hold myself above others. Never show an ounce of emotion, as my father would say. Emotion is a weakness.

I raise my arms above my head and bow. The corps de ballet. The group of background dancers. Me and the twelve other women who all lost to Claudia. My main competition.

Her brown hair and olive skin make her look exotic in a world full of blonde hair and pale skin. I always thought I looked like a princess growing up until I realized I looked like every other girl in Russia. Nothing special.

But you don’t achieve anything in life without being special. It’s why I hold myself back. No emotion. It will get me far. At least, that’s what my father keeps reminding me.

Claudia takes her bow as the audience cheers for her.

Her fake veneers. The tightness around her eyes.

Her Botox is making it hard for her to smile.

I don’t judge though. I’ve gotten it in my forehead.

Preventive Botox as my mother says. Never get any wrinkles.

I always have to remind her that I’m only twenty-one but she thinks that doesn’t matter.

Be perfect. Something my parents believe in.

Which is why I don’t break down into tears as I stand with the twelve other women, watching Claudia get her flowers, both figurately and literally. An ice princess. I have to be.

Eyes. Eyes on me. I can feel them.

While everyone looks at Claudia, I sense someone looking at me.

It’s hard to see into the audience with the bright stage lights but I can see the people in the first few rows. That’s when I spot him.

Dark suit. Strong jaw. Long fingers as he leans into his hand, looking bored. But his eyes are on me. Not Claudia.

I inhale. The girl next to me, Ana, gives me a sharp look. One of Claudia’s best friends. She doesn’t believe in anyone trying to take Claudia’s spotlight.

The man quirks an eyebrow, almost like he’s challenging me to look back at him. I know I’m a beautiful woman. A lot of men have told me over the years. My father’s men. At house parties. When I was probably too young to be complimented by men much older than me.

But now that I’m a woman, I’m much more cognizant of male attention. And this man has my attention. His eyes never leave me and I can’t get myself to look away. He’s very handsome in a classic way.

A soft, slender hand touches his arm, drawing my attention to his left. A young woman smiles at him. Of course a man like him would already be spoken for. So why is he still looking at me the way he is?

I’m a ballerina on stage, I tell myself. It’s not unusual to be looked at when on stage.

I can’t get myself to look away, even though my gut is telling me I should. That this man is dangerous. The only reason I think that is because of who my father is.

Gregory Karetov. A Bratva man. The Russian mafia.

He taught me to be fearful of men. That you could never trust them. That they would do terrible things to me and my sisters. I reminded him that he treats our mother well enough but he says not all Bratva men do.

I’m not sure if this man is part of the Bratva or not but I can still sense danger.

The moment the curtain falls, I can take in a deep breath. The man is no longer looking at me.

Claudia’s tight smile falls the instant we’re no longer in front of an audience. “Thank god that’s over. Those people don’t deserve to see a ballet. Barely any reactions on any of their faces.”

“You still did great,” Ana compliments, running over to Claudia, like the little lap dog she is.

“I know I did great.” Claudia looks me up and down. “What did you think of my performance, Lana? Jealous?”

I grit my teeth harder. I have grinded my teeth so much, my dentist told me to wear a night guard. My mother was appalled, thinking that it was ugly. She told me to not wear it.

“It was wonderful, Claudia,” I say in my cold tone. She narrows her eyes. “But I did notice you stumble during one of your pirouettes. It was during the second act. You should work on that. One has to be perfect in ballet.”

She huffs. “One does. Which is why I always get the main character and you’re regulated to the background. Not even your daddy could buy is way into making you a main character.”

“I like to work hard for what I’ve earned. Not have my dad buy my way in. Unlike you.”

Claudia raises her head higher. “My father never bought anything for me.”

“You’re rich, Claudia. Just like me. Maybe don’t pretend to be better than me.”

She gets right into my face so fast, it takes everything in me to not flinch back. The other women watch, hesitating. Wondering if a fight will break out. These ballerinas are hungry for blood. In a world full of competition, it makes us girls turn on each other.

“The problem is, Lana, you think you’re better than me. And I don’t like that. Know your place.”

If she really knew who my father was, she wouldn’t be saying this. Claudia just thinks he’s a rich businessman. They all do. It’s better this way. The less people know my father is part of the Bratva, the better.

A part of me has always wanted to tell Claudia who my father really is though just to scare her. To get her to back off. But another part of me delights in my competition with Claudia. It makes me work harder and yet… I still can never get the parts I want.

“And who says you’re better than me?” I respond, not showing any emotion. I know it drives her crazy that she can’t get me riled up. The truth is: Claudia gets me riled up all the time. I just never show it publicly. I reserve my pent up emotion for my practice room at home.

“You’re a bitch,” she says in a sweet, fake voice.

“I never said I wasn’t. But it takes a bitch to know one.”

Claudia’s sneer could kill a puppy. It’s a good thing I’m not a puppy then. “You’re in my way, bitch.” She bumps her shoulder into mine as she walks past. Ana gives me a condescending look as she follows after. The other women look disappointed at the lack of a fight.

None of them follow me as I head backstage because none of them are my friends. Too much competition. Not enough trust. We all want the same roles and we’re not willing to play nice to get them.

Claudia goes into her own private dressing room. As the star, she gets it. I join the rest of the women in the main dressing room full of mirrors and chairs and bags of makeup. So much makeup that it’s inevitable that I’ll end up taking some other girl’s makeup home with me instead of my own.

I stop in the doorway when I see that man. The one from the audience. The one with the intense eyes.

He’s waiting right inside the entrance to the dressing room. His presence is obvious. All the other girls notice him right away.

“Hi,” Maria says, batting her eyelashes at him.

“No men allowed,” Ekaterina mumbles as she brushes past us and takes her seat before her mirror and roughly begins to take off her makeup.

“Of course,” the man responds in a cool, low voice. He walks towards me and I have no choice but to step out of the way so he can leave the room. Instead of walking away, he stands by the opposite wall of the doorway. Still watching me.

I hold still and gaze back at him as the other girls rush in and out of the dressing room. I want to ask this man who he is but my tongue gets caught in my throat. I’m not particularly shy. That’s more reserved for my sister, Elena.

But in this moment, this man is making me feel shy. He still hasn’t looked away.

“Aren’t you going to get change, Lana?” Maria asks. Her eyes slide to the man and she gives me a knowing look. “I’d fuck him,” she says in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear.

Ekaterina rolls her eyes as she stands up and grabs her bag. “You’re disgusting.”

“What?” Maria asks, playing innocent.

Ekaterina storms out of the room without giving the man any of her attention.

Claudia walks past, gazing at the man. She enters the dressing room, even though she doesn’t need to be in here.

I think she gets lonely in her private dressing room sometimes.

I could use that against her. What a good idea.

“You should fuck him,” Maria says to me. “Oh wait. That’s right. You never fuck anyone.”

That makes the other girls laugh, especially Claudia. My father has never allowed me and my sisters to date. As a Bratva man, we know to listen to him. He always told us that he would find suitable husbands for us one day. An arranged marriage. It’s what I was taught my entire life.

Besides, I never had time for boys. Not when I was so focused on my ballet. I was always jealous of the other girls, how they could have lives and still dedicate so much to ballet. So why can’t it be the same for me?

Claudia saunters over and harshly bumps her shoulder with mine. The man narrows his eyes, looking between us. She gives the man a seductive smile. “I’m Claudia. The star of this show.”

“Hello,” he says in a voice that doesn’t give anything away.

Claudia frowns. She’s used to men falling at her feet. Her seductive energy is what has allowed her to win so many roles. The passion she can infuse in her dance. I’ll give Claudia this: she is a great dancer. I was lying when I said she stumbled earlier. She never stumbles and I hate her for it.

“Why are you looking at her?” Claudia asks. Her tone is clear: he should be looking at her instead of me.