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“Dude, what the fuck? You let me bring a guy home last night? Are you insane?!” I hissed, cupping the receiver. “Bitch, I didn’t let you do anything. I tried to stop you. You said, and I quote, ‘If I wanna get laid, ain’t nobody gonna stop me.’ Then you stumbled off, dragging him behind you. What was I supposed to do? Tackle you?”
Lmao stop
“And how the fuck am I supposed to do that?” “I dunno, figure it out and call me later. I’m going back to bed.” “Tatiana, don’t you dar—” She hung up. That bitch.
Tatiana had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. Being raised in the Bratva, it was sometimes hard to make friends unless they were in the life, which, luckily for me, Tatiana was. Her father had worked for mine for over twenty years, since before we even moved to America. As one of my father’s advisors, he was always around, and he would bring his daughter along too. Tatiana and I clicked instantly. To put it bluntly, we were both batshit crazy and loved to stir shit up, even when we were kids.
A loud bang followed by a string of Russian curses had Sex Eyes jumping out of the bed completely buck naked. My bedroom door had been kicked open, and the force caused it to smack into the wall. Next thing I knew, in strolled big brother Aleksandr, in all his 6’7 glory.
He was a big dude, built like a pro wrestler and tall enough to have to duck his head whenever he walked through a damn door. He was my father’s pride and joy, the next Volkov to take the throne and continue our legacy. He had the entire world at his fingertips. Didn’t hurt that he was good-looking, either, and he damn well knew it. His black hair was cut short and styled neatly. His chiseled jaw was always a winner with the ladies, as well as his piercing, bright blue eyes. Aleksandr walked in like he owned the damn place and stopped right in front of me.
Oh so I'm obsessed w her brother got it
Aleksandr turned fully and pinned me with his gaze. “Really, Illayana?” he growled. Even though I was 6’2, I still had to raise my head to look him in the eye. “What?” I asked innocently.
Damn she tall
Without hesitating, Aleksandr pulled his gun from inside his suit jacket and clocked Sex Eyes right in the middle of his forehead. A solid umph came out of Sex Eyes right before he fell back onto the bed, unconscious.
Our house—although people would say it was more of a mansion—was built on several hundred acres of land. The whole property was gated off and guarded by my father’s men twenty-four hours a day. It was every bit as ostentatious as one might expect of the leader of the Bratva; a three-story house, built in the Victorian Era, and every bit deserving of the name. With towers, turrets, wraparound porches, decorative railings, and a stone exterior, our home was everything my mother ever wanted it to be.
One year, Lukyan and I decided Aleksandr really needed to loosen up a bit, so we spiked his vodka with Rohypnol—commonly known as roofies. Once he passed out, we tied his ass up and left him in one of our strip clubs. He woke up pissed and disoriented, with no clue as to how he got to the strip club, and a simple note taped to his chest. Lyubov, Lukyan & Illayana. Love, Lukyan & Illayana.
My father loved me. There was no doubt in my mind about that, but he wasn’t the greatest at showing it—or at showing emotions or feelings in general. He was raised to be tough. To show no weakness. To be every bit the ruthless killer a Pakhan ought to be. That kind of upbringing cemented him as the tough-love type of parent, instead of the nurturing type.
He was the youngest boy, and he definitely acted like it. He was carefree with an I don’t give a fuck attitude that wafted off him like a bad smell. He was always the first to make light of a bad situation with dark humor and crappy jokes, never taking anything too seriously and generally always being a shithead. Only a few years separated us. He was older, but you wouldn’t think it, based on his childish behavior half the time. It drove
Lukyan intrigues me
He was just as tall as Aleksandr, but instead of being built like a bloody brick house, Lukyan was more on the leaner side. His dark hair was tied back at the nape of his neck with a few strands cascading over his face. His blue eyes connected with mine, and his lips curved up in a smile.
Hot
Nikolai walked over and shoved Lukyan to the side. He wrapped his big, muscular arms around me and rested his chin on top of my head. At 6’6, it was easy for him.
If Lukyan was the crazy idiot of the family, then Nikolai was his polar opposite: quiet, smart, driven. Nikolai was the brains, whereas Lukyan was the headache, the one who drove us all mad. Not only was Nikolai incredibly smart, but he was also unbelievably strong.
So all of thr brothers are tall and hot
Not only was he our resident tech head, but he was also head of security, responsible for any and all surveillance-related queries. He invested all his time into the Bratva, never doing anything for himself. The Bratva was his life. It was who he was. He lived and breathed for the Bratva.
His entire demeanor was cold and menacing. Just being in his presence made you want to tuck your head between your legs and fucking run. He was my father. I loved him. I respected him, but I also feared him. I’d be a fool not to.
“Vincenzo didn’t go into specifics. He merely requested a sit-down with us on neutral ground,” Father replied. “Our contacts have been keeping an eye on New York, and they’ve reported a lot of carnage between the De Lucas and another Italian family, the Gambinos.”
Standing beside Alessandro was another man, a few inches taller. His eyes hooked me in straight away. No. Fucking. Way. Another bi-eyed beauty! But this guy? Oh, fuck, this guy was leagues ahead of Sex Eyes.
My eyes went back to his face, and fuck me, he was so fucking delicious. High cheekbones, full, luscious lips, his jaw so incredibly defined you could cut glass on it.
His eyes…Oh, god, his eyes. One green, the color as captivating as the rarest emerald in the world. One blue, bright and sparkling, like the ocean on a hot summer’s day. His black hair was short and slicked back, styled neatly, and he looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties. He was without a shadow of a doubt the hottest fucking man I’d ever laid eyes on.
Next to Mrs. De Luca was another man. Just as tall as his father, and just as handsome as his brother. But he didn’t capture my eye like the gorgeous specimen I’d seen before him. His suit was nice, tailored to fit him to perfection. His black hair was styled messily, and his bright green eyes seemed to be the same shade as his mother’s. His lips were curved up in a sly smile, like he knew exactly how good-looking he was. The guy screamed manwhore
“I’ve heard of Arturo De Luca. They call him Shadow throughout the underworld,” Lukyan began. “Apparently, Alessandro paid 5 million dollars a year to have him go to Switzerland to study under Elias Huber.” “Elias Huber? The assassin trainer?” Aleksandr asked, surprised. “The one and only. He was there between the ages of thirteen to seventeen,” Lukyan said, relighting his cigar that had gone out.
Russian Roulette was one of many casinos we owned in Las Vegas, along with some high-end strip clubs and restaurants. To be honest, we had enough businesses and revenue to get out of the Mafia life and go legit, but where was the fun in that?
After finding her body, my father went into a rage unlike anything I’d ever seen before. He vowed justice, revenge on the Voznesensky family. He promised blood and retribution. It was exactly what he delivered. It took a few months, but my father hunted down every single member of the Voznesensky family in America, as well as in Russia. He slaughtered every single one of them. He didn’t spare the women or the children.
My father classified anyone who wasn’t in a criminal syndicate as a norm—someone who lived a completely normal life, instead of one filled with violence and bloodshed.
A Sovietnik was a councillor—someone who helped the Pakhan in making decisions and gave another point of view. Maxim had been with the Bratva for as long as I could remember, and he was one of my father’s most trusted advisors.
I hated the fucking heat with an unbelievable passion. If it was too hot and muggy, you better have stayed the fuck out of my way. I’d been known to shoot a person or two who pissed me off on a hot day.
Lol me
Growing up with three overbearing brothers and a father who was head of the US Bratva, I learned very quickly to stand up for myself and not take crap from anybody.
Ever since I was a young girl, I’d been doing gymnastics. Apart from doing work for the Bratva, gymnastics was my ultimate passion. If I weren’t born into the Mafia, I knew I would have pursued it as a career.
I’d always been close to Lukyan, more so than Aleksandr and Nikolai. I didn’t know if it was because he was only two years older than me, or if it was because we had the same quirky personality. Either way, he was my go-to brother.
I absorbed the scene in front of me. The room was completely bare—except for the one male suspended from the roof. His hands were bound in a thick layer of chain held up by a beam running along the ceiling. His feet just barely touched the ground as his body swayed slightly through the air.
For example, I knew Vincenzo De Luca was known around New York as the city’s biggest man whore. He’d never had a serious girlfriend. In every photograph online and on his social media accounts, he had a different woman on his arm. His face was always plastered all over the tabloids with articles about some stupid, reckless stunt he’d just pulled off. It was easy to see how he’d gotten his reputation of being aloof and carefree. But then he had another side to himself…A dark, vicious side. Word on the street was that he loved to get his hands dirty. He was the Cosa Nostra’s official
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His brother, Arturo De Luca, seemed to be the face of the family. And what a pretty face it was. He was CEO of a range of different companies throughout New York City, and he was known for being a real pit bull in the business world. He was lethal, cutthroat, and didn’t like being told no. If he wanted something, he got it. Even if he had to step over others to do it. Although there weren’t many rumors about him on the streets, I had a feeling he was even more dangerous than his brother. There was something about him, something lurking behind those gorgeous mismatched eyes that screamed
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I kept my makeup minimal; just simple eyeshadow, eyeliner, and blush, my full lips painted with a bright red lipstick. After strapping a holster around my chest, I placed two fully-loaded semiautomatic handguns in the pouches. I placed another holster around my waist and put my favorite switchblade
Making his way through the corridor toward us, flanked by four of his men, my father looked just as menacing as the Pakhan should. His face was set in stone, portraying no emotion whatsoever. His body moved with grace, his shoes making no sound at all as he walked on the marble floor. He was wearing a stylish, dark three-piece Armani suit with a gray tie and matching pocket square.
Dilf
I mean, who wouldn’t be? You’re about to be trapped in a building with two of the most ruthless Mafia leaders in America. If you weren’t the tiniest bit freaked out by that prospect, you were a fucking fool.
His eyes—one blue and one green—were firmly on me, running up and down the length of my body. When his gaze finally locked onto mine, his lips curved up into a coy smile. God, he looked even more handsome in person, if that was even possible. The intensity of his stare started to make my palms sweat. He had a certain aura about him. A dark, dangerous presence surrounded the guy. Power. That was the first word that came to mind as I stared at him, admiring the rough, sculpted lines of his face.
“De Luca,” my father’s deep voice filled the room. “Volkov,” Alessandro replied in the same tone.
“Twenty-nine years ago, my wife, Isabella, was arranged to be married to Nero Gambino—son of Matteo Gambino, Don of the Chicago Outfit. It was a contract agreed upon by their families at the time she was born. She was set to marry him a few weeks after her eighteenth birthday. That was, until she met me.” A sly smile broke out over his face, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
“We fell for each other instantly, kindred spirits and all that. But I knew the Gambinos would never let her go. She was, for all intents and purposes, theirs. Nero’s,” he sneered, shaking his head, anger starting to take over his body at the memories playing through his mind. “There was only one way I could see out of it, out of her arrangement with the Gambinos,” he said, placing a hand on Arturo’s shoulder.
His gorgeous blue-green eyes were already on me, watching me. His lips were set in a slight frown that made him look even sexier.
Vincenzo chuckled at his father’s behavior, and I couldn’t help joining in. It was funny to see a big, bad Mafia boss sulking because he was having fun destroying someone’s life, and he couldn’t continue to do so.
“What kind of guns do you have?” Vincenzo interrupted. “Raspizdyay,” Stupid fucker, I whispered in Russian. Arturo narrowed his eyes. Did he understand what I said?
“V sleduyushchiy raz eto budet tvoy glaz.” Next time, it’ll be your eye, I said in Russian, my eyes fixed firmly on Vincenzo.
A sly smile broke out over his face as his gaze landed on me. “Intelligente e bella.” Smart and beautiful, Alessandro said in Italian. “I preferisco mortale.” I prefer deadly, I replied in Italian.
My eyes locked onto Arturo’s. His gaze roamed over my face, then my body, like he was taking inventory. A dark, predatory look crossed his face before he gave me a panty-melting smirk. One that made shivers dance over my skin. Looking at the man, I could just tell he would be amazing in bed, that he knew the way around a woman’s body. That he would give me a night I would never forget.
My eyes connected one more time with Arturo’s as I made my way to the exit. Just as I reached the door, I heard his deep, seductive voice call out to me in Russian. “Uvidimsya, kotenok.” See you soon, kitten.
Ahhhhhhh
in awe as the tall Russian beauty walked out of the room, her long black hair flowing behind her. Illayana Volkova.
The second she had first walked into the room, she had my undivided attention. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. Her gorgeous, tanned skin, her beautiful, piercing blue eyes, and those enticing, full lips had me screaming in my head for a little taste.
