Sold to the Mob Boss - A Mafia Romance

Nikita

The nights are always the same.

The thump of the bass from the DJ's music rattles the walls, even in the back of the club, much to my annoyance. But a club is the best way to do business. Or a butcher shop, for the old-school types. But the stench of uncooked meat and blood makes my stomach sour. I'd much prefer to be surrounded by scantily clad woman than lamb ribs and pork chops.

"Boss, we got a situation," one of the bouncers says, standing in the doorway.

With a low growl that rumbles from deep within my chest, I stand up from my desk and make my way to the main room. The blue neon lights, the thumping of the newest pop hit, and half naked girls who can barely hold their drinks crowd the room. When one of the drunken girls invades my space, I use my forearm to guide her away. These reckless college girls are not to my liking. Not in the slightest.

The bouncer leads me over to the bar where the lead bartender, Krissy, is mouthing off to a customer. My gaze travels to the man on the other side of the counter. Blood covers his face and broken glass is scattered over the top of the bar and on the man's shirt.

I groan and walk up to Krissy. "What happened?"

With flailing hands, Krissy glares right at the guy and answers, "Motherfucker felt it appropriate to grab my tits. So, I reciprocated."

"By cracking a bottle over his head?"

Krissy turns and meets my gaze, but doesn't shrink or falter. She's tough. It's one of the reasons I hired her. The other being that she's my cousin. Family protects family.

"You bitch. I'm going to sue you and this club," the bloody man spits, his face mottled crimson, his eyes popped, his tree-trunk neck strained. His words are spat out with the ferocity and rapidity of machine-gun fire.

Without wiping the spit from her face, Krissy leans closer, perfectly composed, and speaks her next words just millimeters from the man's face. "See if I give a fuck."

The man explodes with unrestrained fury. But Krissy doesn't care to stick around and watch him melt down. With a barely concealed smirk, she turns on her heel and walks away. My mess to deal with, now.

Always start with diplomacy.

"Sir, I think it's time for you to leave. Don't worry about the bill; your drinks are on the house." I hate giving away free shit, but it's better than being sued.

"You think free drinks are gonna stop me from suing this place?" the man staggers a bit.

I straighten my spine, my lips pressing tightly together. I can't stand dealing with drunken idiots. If he wants to be difficult, fine. I can deal with that just as easily.

When diplomacy fails, move next to the veiled threat.

"I can always call the police, check the cameras, and then you could be going to jail for sexual assault. Choice is yours, but choose quickly."

The man's face turns crimson once again, but no words come out of his mouth. Instead, his friends drag him out of the bar after giving me a nod of understanding.

The fool doesn't realize how lucky he is to have friends like that. Because I wouldn't have been calling the cops. No. Left to my own devices, the man would've disappeared, for good. No one messes with my business or my family. Hell, I would've had him killed if Krissy had come to me first. But of course she insisted on handling it herself. A smirk lights up my face. The Lavrin blood runs strong in her veins.

"Clean up the bar. I'm heading back into the office. And make sure Krissy doesn't get herself in any more trouble for the night," I say to the other bartender, before turning and walking back down the hallway.

Back in the sanctuary of the office, I make myself a glass of gin, just like my father used to do.

I've had so many thoughts of my father tonight. Very unlike me to be so sentimental. But murdered men have a way of remaining in the hearts and minds of their sons.

It's hard to forget my father when his presence is everywhere around me. The desk, the art, the chair I'm in-all of it was once his. I claimed this office after his death, just as I claimed his position at the head of the Lavrin family.

Right after I ended the life of every Scuderi motherfucker who took my father from me.

Our enemies, the Scuderis, spilled my father's blood, so I spilled theirs ten times over. Scorched earth. No survivors.

But the damage they did to my family was permanent. My father gone, my mother hospitalized with an emotional breakdown, never to recover quite fully. I did what I had to do to avenge them. And in the process, I taught this world one simple rule:

Do. Not. Fuck. With. Me.

Knuckles rap against the door again. Not even ten fucking minutes to myself. "What?"

Vinny and Tommy, two of my subordinates, drag in an elderly man and throw him in front of me.

For a moment, my breath catches in my chest. The man is facedown on the expensive rug that spreads from wall to wall. As he struggles to pull himself back to his feet, I have the strongest sense of foreboding.

The man looks exactly like my father.

But then he shows his face to me and the likeness fades away. It leaves a sticky, sour taste in its path, like blood on my tongue. I can feel a bead of sweat on my forehead. The ghosts in my brain are acting up tonight.

Vinny's voice cuts through the haze and drags me back to reality.

"Boss, he hasn't paid his protection dues for the past month," Vinny says, kicking the old man in the thigh.

"Mr. Lavrin, please," the old man whimpers. "Business has been rough. With the chain supermarket, I don't have as many customers coming in."

Fucking Christ. This is the one part of the business I can't stand. Part of me wants to help the man to his feet, dust off his jacket. He looks like he needs a night off, not a mafioso beating. But you can't run a business on mercy. The rules must be upheld.

"Not my problem," I tell him. "You asked for protection, so you pay for what you've been given."

"Please, Mr. Lavrin, I'm begging you."

I hold up a hand to silence him. "You knew the deal you entered. You have wasted my time and the time of my men who were forced to drag you before me. Bring me my payment by the end of the week-no, double it. A penalty for the frustration you have caused here tonight. Next time, you won't receive a second chance. If this happens again, your payment will be your life."

I nod curtly to my soldiers at the door. We are done here. The old man's eyes bulge and he cries out as Vinny and Thomas each grab an arm and pull him through the door and out of sight. I hear the sharp slap of knuckle on skin and the whimpering stops.

Silence takes over again after they're gone. The remnants of that haunted feeling still linger in my chest. For a split second, the old man looked just like my father ...

Another rap on the door. "Come in."

In walks Eitan Aminov, my top advisor. I throw back what's left of the gin in my glass. When it comes to Eitan, there's no chance I'll be enjoying my drink. He's all business, all the time.

"Nikita, so good to see you," Eitan shakes my hand and walks over to the chair by my desk. "We have much to discuss."

It's been a long night already, and there's still far more to come. But I just want to fucking go to sleep. Between Krissy and the old man, I'm not sure how much more I can take tonight. How did my father deal with this stress for so long? Everyone wanting things from me, all the time. I'm not even thirty and I'm looking forward to retiring.

"You okay, boss?" Eitan asks.

"Yeah. Krissy gives me a headache." I plop down into my chair and rub my temples.

Eitan laughs. "Girl's tough. One day, she might be running the business."

I snort. "She's too quick-tempered. She'd do something stupid and have the cops crawling all over the place."

Eitan nods solemnly in agreement. "Always start with diplomacy," he intones. My father's words. "So, to business. We need to discuss the auction."

The auction. Flesh trafficking. A highlight of the yearly calendar for the criminal elements in the city, and a hefty paycheck for the ones in charge-namely, me. When I was a younger man, I used to look forward to the auctions. So much beauty, all for sale to the highest bidder. But this time, I don't have the same excitement. This time, it's nothing more than business.