Page 3 of Mafia Prize
There’s no reason Andrei should answer my question. In our world, information is power, greedily acquired and carefully hoarded. And I have nothing to trade for the knowledge I seek.
“Four years ago, theSaturniawent down off the coast of Bari.”
“I remember. You sank it.”
“No. Your father loudly and publicly proclaimed that the Sidorov Bratva was responsible, but we had nothing to do with it.” His expression turns serious. “Your father did it, Mira. He hired a team to steal the cocaine, kill the crew of theSaturnia, and sink the ship.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “No.”
“Yes,” he replies. “I’m afraid there’s proof of his involvement. Your father tried to take out the team he hired so word couldn’t get out, but he wasn’t entirely successful. Giovanni Castella lost a son on theSaturnia.He’s intent on discovering what really happened, and it’s not about money for him; it’s personal. When he succeeds, and he will succeed, your father will be killed for his betrayal.”
I sink onto the bench in shock. I wish I could protest that my father would never do something as dishonorable as stealfrom an ally, but I can’t. Aldo Caruso would break whatever code necessary if he thought he could get away with it.
And by his actions, he’s signed his own death warrant.
“Thank you for telling me.” I need to take steps to protect myself and my sister from the fallout. A difficult task, but not an impossible one. Thanks to Andrei’s warning, I have time to do what’s necessary. “I owe you a debt.”
“No, Mirabella,” he says, and once again, there’s a caress in his voice. “I offered you the information freely. You owe me nothing.” His voice turns strained. “You should get up from that bench.”
“Why?”
“If you don’t, I might be tempted to tie you down.”
For a moment, I don’t think I’ve heard him correctly. Then his words register, and a thrill shoots through me. Andrei Sidorovwantsme.
Our families hate each other, and no matter what happens with my father, that won’t change. Even if the proof of his betrayal comes to light, my uncles will insist that Vadik Sidorov planted the evidence to hide his own culpability.
But that’s the outside world. Inside Casanova, inside this room, none of that matters. Because Andrei Sidorov is staring at me with hot lust in his eyes, and I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want this forbidden bratva prince.
“If you do,” I whisper, “I might like it.”
He crosses the room in two long strides, and then he’sright next to me,his presence overpowering my senses. My body trembles in painful anticipation as he places a finger on my chin and tilts my face upward. Our gazes collide. “Be sure,” he says, low and dangerous. “Be very,verysure.”
I’ve been intimately acquainted with danger all my life. But it’s never felt like this, this sharp, restless, violent urge. I want to break out of my gilded cage. I want to shout and scream andrage. I want him to tie me up and fuck my mouth and my pussy and my ass.
“I’m sure.”
He presses his thumb on my lower lip, and my mouth falls open. He shoves two fingers inside. “Will you wrap your pretty little lips around my cock, Mira?” he asks, pushing them deeper down my throat until I start to gag. “Will you smear your red lipstick all over my length? Will your mascara run as I fuck your throat? Will you cry pretty tears and beg me to stop hurting you?”
My pulse starts to race. I should be alarmed. I’m not. A rush of heat floods my body, a shot of pure arousal that goes straight to my core. “I know a bluff when I hear it.”
“Do you?” He pulls a tissue from a conveniently placed box and wipes his fingers clean. “But you’re right. I am bluffing. This is a bad idea. You’re a virgin. Your first time should be on a soft bed somewhere, with candles, rose petals, and romantic music.”
“I’m not a virgin,” I retort. “You thought I’d follow my father’s edict? For what? So that Aldo Caruso could auction off his pure, chaste daughter to the highest bidder? My first time was in the back of a car with an American tourist who was leaving town the next day. It was hurried, rushed, and if I’m being honest, not very good,but it was mine.Freely chosen, and for my own happiness, not for the good of my family.” And a shameful part of me was picturing Andrei when it happened. Pretending it was him in that car. I kick off my heels. “This would be the same.”
There’s an expression in his eyes I don’t know how to interpret. It looks likeadmiration,but that can’t be it. That’s just wishful thinking. “Hurried, rushed, and not very good?” he says, with a wry twist of his lips. “You flatter me.”
“Freely chosen,” I counter. “And for my own happiness. Just one night, but for me alone.”
“Not for you alone, lisichka.” He pulls me to him, my back pressed against his chest as he kisses my neck. “Tell me what you want.”
I could count on one hand the number of people who ask me what I want. A sad truth of my life. “You go first.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I want to tie you to that bench and feast on your sweet little cunt.”
A shiver of pure lust runs through me. “I want that too.” I swallow back my nerves. This isn’t some young and eager tourist; this isn’t a hasty fuck in the back seat of the car. I’m in a sex club with Andrei Sidorov. A man who, by all rights, should be my enemy. A man that I know everything and nothing about.
A man who sets my body on fire with one touch.