Chapter 3
VIKTOR
Guys think being a mob boss is “cool.” All they see on TV is the glitz and the glam, the girls and the glory. What they don’t see is the blood and battles it took to get to the top.
They call me The Ice Man, and that’s a nickname I deserve.
It all began when I was a kid. My father beat me, and my mother—well, let’s just say I’d rather have been raised by a pack of wolves than her. She left when I was twelve, and I was stuck with that bastard.
Until I killed him.
He was my first. He was a drunk and got so hammered one night that he thought I was his friend, Jimmy, and came at me with a broken bottle. I knew it was him or me, so I grabbed a knife and ended him.
I left before the cops could question me. Found my own way on the streets, and before kids my age were graduating high-school, I was running my own illegal betting operation.
I was big for my age, and the streets didn’t know how to handle me. Like a wild animal, I started going after the gangs. Why the hell not? I had nothing to lose.
By the time I was twenty, the whole city knew not to fuck with me. Everyone owed and everyone paid. I was the new kingpin, and I have been ever since.
I rule New York with my one rule. I may be a criminal, but I leave the innocents out of it. If you’re in the game, you’re in the game. If you’re not, you’ve got nothing to fear.
Now at thirty-eight, I thought I had it all figured out. Thought I knew how I had to live my life to keep things going. But yesterday, when my angel walked in, my world turned upside down.
Standing at the sink, I stare out the window as dawn breaks over the city. A gorgeous view, but all I can see are Isabella’s terrified eyes.
Craig is dead by now—cinder blocks dragging him to the bottom of the Hudson. I saved her, but I also fucked up.
You never should have let that happen.
My hands tighten around the stone countertop until my knuckles ache. I also never should have let her see that side of me. What’s she going to think now? She’s going to be terrified.
I’m supposed to be showing her she can trust me, not scaring her away.
With a sigh, I roll up my sleeves and start cracking eggs. I toss some bacon into a hot pan, and it starts sizzling. The delicious smell fills the cold space I’ve grown accustomed to.
I’m used to the scent of blood, not breakfast.
And that’s when I hear them—footsteps behind me, soft and fairylike. My heart skips a beat, and I turn.
There she is…
My beauty. My angel. My possession.
Isabella stands in the doorway, wearing one of the dresses I had delivered this morning. Coffee-colored and sexy as hell. I’m hard in an instant.
Her delicate shoulders are bare, and the fabric clings to her curves like it was tailored to her fit. My heart pounds against my ribs as blood rushes to my cock.
I may have bought that for her, but I never could have imagined just how incredible she’d look in it.
I clear my throat. “You found the kitchen.”
She almost smiles. “You give good directions.”
“Come in,” I say, motioning with my hand. “I already started.”
Her cheeks are rosy as she steps cautiously across the black marble floor. And like the first time I saw her, my heartbeat changes like I’ve come to life.
She’s a ray of light in the dark void of my existence. Her eyes hold a truth I’m desperate to unearth. All I want is to prove myself to her…
Never in my life have I felt this way about anyone.
She looks so innocent, but her hips sway with such femininity that it’s almost unfair.
How could any man resist her?
The question threatens to fill me with rage as I think of all the other bastards out there, like Craig, who would do anything to have her. But that’s never going to happen. Isabella is mine.
“I didn’t know mob bosses cooked,” she says, her voice sweet like a Steinway piano.
“Only when we’re apologizing.” I think about Craig getting what he deserved, but it’s not enough. “I never should have let that happen to you, angel.”
Isabella’s eyes stare up at me, wide and innocent. My chest tightens, but my face stays cold as ice. I’m a killer, the boss. Even if I want to show her my soft side, I have to uphold my image.
If I even have a soft side anymore…
“Sit,” I tell her, gesturing to the stools at the marble island. She does, and I try not to gawk like a pig, but the way the hem of her dress rides up and shows off her gorgeous legs has me practically drooling.
It’s like she was designed by a billionaire, crafted specifically with my tastes in mind. There’s not an inch on her that doesn’t turn me on. Not a place on her I wouldn’t put my tongue.
“How do you like your eggs?” I ask. “Scrambled okay?”
“Scrambled is perfect,” she replies. I shoot her a glance.
“You’re not just saying that, are you? To make me happy?”
Isabella shakes her head adamantly, causing her hair to sweep across her beautiful shoulders.
“No, I love scrambled eggs. Bacon too.”
“Good.” I nod. “Then you’ll enjoy this breakfast.”
I turn back to the stove and cook, all the while trying to come up with something to say to her. What is happening to me? It’s like my feet are stuck in the mud.
This never happens. It’s like she’s cast a spell on me or something. Finally, as I’m dishing out the fruit salad, I pause.
“You shouldn’t have seen that,” I tell her. “That…violence.”
“I’m fine,” she lies. I can hear the fear in her voice, and it pains me. I bring our plates over and sit down beside her. Being this close is like a willpower test.
Can I keep my hands off her?
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” I tell her.
She opens her mouth but hesitates. Whatever it is she wants to say, she’s not sure about it.
I let it sit there, not rushing her. Finally, she asks a question that completely levels me. “You’d never do anything like that to me?”
Christ, what is she thinking? Does she really think I’m that big of a bastard?
“Isabella,” I say, taking her hand. “I would never hurt you or take you against your will. I need you to understand that.”
Her eyes slip from mine. She looks down, almost like she’s ashamed of what she just said. But I lift her chin, forcing her to look back at me.
“I’d take a bullet if it meant keeping it from hitting you.”
Her pupils dilate. Her plump lips open, and a tiny breath escapes her mouth. Beauty incarnate.
“You…you mean it?”
I nod. “More than anything in my life.”
She could be my queen. I look at her, trying not to show how star struck I am. She could also be my destruction.
Maintaining my empire means no emotion. No weakness. But this woman is working her way under my skin, breaking down the defenses I’ve spent a lifetime building.
Watching her take a bite of my eggs causes my pants to tighten. But then a cold rush of shame hits me like a fist.
She’s only here because her father sold her to you…
If I gave her the chance, would she up and leave me right now? The thought is too much to bear.
I stand up and move toward the counter to grab some coffee, and as I do, my arm brushes against hers. It’s like an electric spark between us.
Keep moving. That’s all I can do. Because if I stop, I’m going to pounce. And I can’t take her. Not against her will.
She has to want it.
“Dress looks good on you,” I say casually, pouring us both a cup.
“You picked it.”
“Yeah, well I shouldn’t have,” I confess, shaking my head as I sit back down. The smooth lines of her thigh have me clenching my fist in restraint.
“Why not?”
Because now I can’t breathe when I look at you.
That’s what I want to say, but I keep my damn mouth shut and just shake my head. I’ve got to keep it together.
“Your mom must be worried,” I say, shifting the conversation. But Isabella just shakes her head and looks away.
Instantly I can see I struck a nerve.
“I don’t know my mom.”
Christ, now I’ve gone and upset her. I’m fumbling all over myself trying to make this girl happy. Maybe I just don’t deserve her.
Maybe I should let her go.
But the thought of sending her back to live with Seth, that degenerate gambler, sickens me. He can’t protect her like I can. And if something happened to her…well my life would be over.
“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No, it’s okay.” She smiles up at me, pouring fuel on the fire burning in my heart. “From what Dad tells me, she left after I was born. I was raised by formula and wet nurses.”
I shake my head. It’s all I can do.
“You know, we’re a lot alike,” I tell her.
“Oh? How’s that?”
I open my mouth, ready to pour my heart out to her—tell her all about my terrible childhood and how it made me into the man I am today. But before I can, Anton enters the room.
“Boss, we’ve got a problem.”
Goddamn it.
I stop myself from slamming my fist against the counter. Don’t scare her. She’s safe here.
Taking a deep breath, I level my gaze at my number one. “I’m busy. Can it wait?”
He shakes his head but keeps his mouth shut. Must be important.
“Isabella, I need to leave for a bit, but I’ll be back,” I say, taking her hand in mine. So warm, so soft. “I’ll have my men standing guard. What happened with Craig will not happen again, I promise.”
“Yes, sir.”
There it is again. She called me sir, and goddamn I liked it.