Kostya: A Dark Mafia Romance (Zinon Bratva), Nicole Fox [life changing books txt] 📗

She blows out a trembling breath, and I’m glad to know she’s nervous. It’s why my office is so opulent, with crystal chandeliers and wood so glossy I can see my reflection behind her. This is a place where it’s very clear no one belongs but royalty and me.

“You know, I was married once to a man who loved me, who wanted nothing more than to live out his life loving me and his daughters. He was a good man. Never would’ve thought to commit a murder or to sell so much as an aspirin. Wouldn’t have dreamed of the other atrocities you take part in every day.” She sniffs and dabs the inside corners of her eyes with a tissue from her pocket.

Now she has my attention. She’s stirred the rage always simmering just beneath my skin. “Atrocities? You must have me confused, ma’am.”

“I know about the auctions. The weapons. The drugs. The weapons. I know it all.”

My fists clench, and when a low growl escapes my throat, all the color not painted onto her face drains from it.

“Charlotte knows where I am,” she warns hurriedly. “She’s waiting for my call. She’ll contact the police if I don’t call her.”

Fucking Charlotte. In on this; I should have known. Fuck, I should have disappeared her when I had the chance. Sentimental weakness stayed my hand. Now, I am paying the price. She told her mother about me. About my business. It has to be her. I’ve spent a lifetime surrounding myself with people who know better than to speak of Bratva business outside the confines of my offices or with those who I implicitly trust. Her mother does not belong to that group. And now, Charlotte doesn’t, either.

“What do you want, Ms. Lowe?” It always comes down to what people want. Their basest desires. This bitch won’t be any different. Charlotte won’t be any different either.

I could end it and kill the old woman right now and the world, except Charlotte, loses nothing. Although, if they’re working together, and I have no reason to believe they aren’t, then … I have decisions to make. Hard decisions.

“I want you to find my daughter.” She stares at me. “And I want you to put all your men on it. I know you probably think I’m just an old woman who’s worried about her daughter or that Lila walked away because she wanted to, but if my Lila could call home, she would. I know it. He’s keeping her from us.” She pauses and dabs her eyes again. “She would call me if she was able. I’m her mother. I brought her into this world.”

Somehow, I doubt it. Lila, if she is even half as smart as I hope, hopped off the crazy train and onto the first bus out and is staying hidden for her own good. I sure as hell don’t plan to force her back if she doesn’t want to come. Hell, part of me wants to go join her.

“And in exchange?” I know what her part of the bargain will be, but I want to hear her say it. I want to sear the words in her voice onto my memory so that if I ever think of forgiving her or her treacherous daughter, I’ll have this moment to remind me of who they really are.

“In exchange … I tell no one about you.” She’s quite proud of her brokering. Her head is high, and her eyes are sparkling as if she’s accomplished some great feat. But she’s poked an angry Russian brown bear.

I nod. “Blackmail.”

I want to wrap my hands around her throat and watch the life drain out of her eyes.

I want to feel her nails rake against my skin as she fights for breath and I want her to look into my eyes as she dies and know it’s me who did it. If she knows who I am, she should know how dangerous a game she’s playing.

I can’t think about Charlotte yet or how I’ll handle her. That’s going to take some time alone, some consideration of how much she’s helped my daughter. But to know she told her mother the things I told her … foolishly told her … makes my skin tighten until everything inside me is set to explode.

Mistake after mistake, each compounding the next, until, like links in a suit of chainmail armor, everything I have built is rendered vulnerable and weak.

“You have a child, Mr. Zinon. You know the importance of family. After all, it made you what you are. Don’t you want that for your daughter?”

I have to suppress a growl. Is this bitter woman threatening Tiana? Because if she does that, all bets are off.

“I want my daughter’s happiness,” I reply through gritted teeth.

She shakes her head as if she doesn’t believe me. As if I’ve somehow let her down with my answers. “I want my daughter found.” She looks down and away. Whatever she has to say now is the part she isn’t sure about. This woman, for all her courage in coming here, has tells that let me read her like a children’s book. “You have … three weeks.” Her voice is unsure, as if she’s waiting for me to either congratulate her for her negotiating prowess, or maybe she wants me to aid her in finding a more acceptable time frame to find the missing daughter.

It doesn’t matter. Now we’ve moved onto the terms of her blackmail. How she isn’t dead yet is only through the grace of whatever god she believes in—and Charlotte, who is obviously my own weakness.

“Three weeks.” I could have the daughter dragged away from her home and brought here as soon as tomorrow. I just thought they would prefer a more conciliatory reunion. Now that I know differently and have so much riding on this, I’ll move up the timeline.

She will be most