Protected by a Mobster 2: A Russian Mafia Romance (Volsky Mafia)

Protected by a Mobster 2

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons – living or dead – is entirely coincidental.

This work is intended only for adults over the age of 18. All sexual relationships depicted are between adults who are not related by blood.

Protected by a Mobster 2 © March 2016, Jacee Macguire

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews.

“I’ve done everything for you, Liliya, but hear this, girl. You will regret the moves you’re making against your flesh and blood. I promise you, you’ll never see it coming.”

My father’s words reverberated in my ears, scratching and clawing their way into my soul like a demon fighting to escape the depths of its own personal hell. Each word he spoke in that thick and insanely harsh Russian accent left my soul battered and bruised.

But still I remained quiet, rolling his despicable hatred around in my head, hoping I could control my own pulsing anger and resentment. My ability to formulate control of my emotions had improved but it was far from flawless. If I were to look in the mirror right now, every feeling – every emotion crashing through my body – would be written clearly across my face. Yeah, I had a long way to go yet before I conquered that weakness.

But I knew in time I would.

Taking a shuddering breath I swallowed it all. In another heartbeat, another blink of the eye, I felt the tension and insanity in my mind ease, the chaos roiling within me finally snapping loose, and I let it all go.

I never thought I’d feel anything more than love for my father, for the only family I had ever known. But I do!

How could I not after everything?

The bastard makes it so damn easy for me, his own daughter, to hate him. The rawness in my heart drives me to the brink of insanity and back again every day but today it goes one step farther. Today, I loathe him with all that I am.

A small part of me knew I had come by the darkness and hatred I feel honestly. After all, I was Lyosha Markow’s damn daughter, a mafia princess once blinded from seeing the truth, now seeing everything and embracing it.

If he was to be mad about anything, or at anyone, it should be his own righteous ass for showing us – my brother and I – how to be just like him. Not that I wanted to be like him, not really, but it was happening one way or another. The important thing was to remain in control of my actions and stay focused so that I could live with myself when it was all said and done. It’s the things he has done that allow me to make choices I never imagined making.

Some might say it’s free will but it’s more than that. I feel every single emotion one can possibly feel. There’s a game of tug-of-war going on at the heart of me and the push and pull is almost euphoric. I feel wild and un-tethered, free to let myself go. Hostility, outrage, and bitterness, among many other things, mix and mingle with the new sense of safety, bravery, and calmness that are redefining who I am. It’s an intoxicating combination that leaves me shaking with a power I can barely contain. And I will use it all against him.

The old me would have cried her eyes out and done whatever it took to make the man happy. I was so fucking weak and childish in my way of thinking. It’s sickening how weak and naive I was not so very long ago.

There are no tears left in me now, and as I sit here with dry eyes, the stinging bite lurking behind my eyes is almost too much to handle. I have more faith in myself and what I know must happen than I ever have. One of us will die at the end of all of this. The only question is, which one of us will be left standing.

In the past, I would have done whatever it took to be that perfect angelic daughter, the perfectly molded mafia daughter shaped and prepared in every way to be what he needed me to be, to look the way I was expected, and to do as I was told, all for the family. That was what had him doting over me for so many years... until now. That’s all in the past. It seems like ages ago, a time gone by that cannot be touched any longer.

Now I no longer feel the need to make him happy. Can
anyone
ever make a mobster happy? I guess it is possible. Who the hell knows? Maybe it’s all just one big game of cat and mouse until someone lands on top of it all. The mere thought has me aching to sharpen my nails like a cat readying itself for a fight or a savage kill.

What would be the point in trying to change my father’s way of thinking? He’s too cold and heartless to change. A zebra, after all, can’t change his stripes.

We want different things.

We see the world differently.

We see people differently.

He needs violence like I need air to breath. No longer do I feel that it would be possible for me to be that simple naive girl he needed me to be. The truth of it all is I’m just as much a rival to him now as the man protecting me, a threat he wishes to dispose of in whatever way he sees fit. All I am, or rather all I was, was a damn stepping stone to a better position in the grand scheme he had cooked up with Dane. It’s almost laughable that he feels he can best the man he obviously fears so much. I hope he can’t. I pray he isn’t capable of doing that.

My poor excuse for a father had obviously hoped to make me crumble at his feet with his harsh and cruel words, like a good little girl filled with cowardice... or maybe a slave would be a better description of how he might view me, but I would not allow him the satisfaction. No, I needed to stay strong and fearless as I see this journey to its end. I refuse to cry. I refuse to let him have power over me.

Never again!

No more!

There comes a time when you have to stand your ground and say enough is enough. I have finally reached that crossroad and my feet are planted firmly on the ground, ready for whatever he might have in store for me. I’m growing and changing in a beautiful yet dark way now, like a flower stretching and reaching for the sky for the first time, taking in all that it can to become something more, something stronger and more powerful, something wild and untamed. Resilient. A warrior.

My anger pulsed.

My heart thrummed against my ribs.

My breathing grew erratic.

My skin vibrated with vengeance.

I gripped the phone tighter, hearing the tell-tale sound of the hard plastic cracking under the pressure. My fingers ached down to the bone. The discomfort brought with it focus.

Just as I had clung to Ruslan’s hand in Dane’s presence, I stilled myself to whatever bullshit my father was going to say next. Squeezing the phone a little tighter, the ache shooting up through my wrist now. I needed that discomfort now more than ever to center my resolve. As the plastic casing of my phone screamed in agony, I shifted my stance.

My father’s heaving breath assaulted my ears, bringing me back to reality.

My throat burned.

A small but steady prickling writhed and coiled in my chest and throat, a burning heat rising up inside me, ready to explode like a geyser. Pushing the threatening tears down, I let out an unladylike grunt of frustration and licked my suddenly dry lips. I didn’t give two shits if the phone broke. Hell, maybe that would be for the best. A total end of communication, a breaking of ties, so to speak.

Fuck the phone and fuck my father for all he’s done. He would get what was coming to him if it was the last thing I ever did. I had Ruslan Volsky on my side now. He would keep me safe. I knew that to be true from the moment I looked into his eyes as I knelt at his feet, gripping his slacks until my knuckles turned white, begging him for help.

Angling the phone between my ear and shoulder, I rubbed my sweaty palms on my thin nightgown and smirked. My father’s voice steadily droning on, but I couldn’t hear a damn word he said and didn’t care to. It didn’t matter what he said. His threats didn’t matter, either. Whatever was going to happen would happen, no matter what words we spoke to one another.

Just as I began to feel my grit and determination ebb, I heard it. At first, it was a soft whisper in the back of my mind that became louder and louder as it fought for my attention. ‘It’ being that confident and commanding voice that, from the moment we met, instilled a sense of danger and certainty like none other in me.

Ruslan’s voice. My dark angel.

My?

What the hell am I thinking? He’s not mine… but I’m
not
opposed to the idea, either. He’s a delicious man, and we had come rather close to sealing the deal. Thanks to Dane’s unexpected visit, it never happened though. I loathe Dane for stealing that from me.

Closing my eyes, I reveled in Ruslan’s deep gritty voice and that thick sexy Russian accent that does naughty things to my needy body. Every fucking word hummed through my head, enveloping me in a warmth and strength that only he was capable of.

The man is like an intoxicating drug I can’t help but want, no matter how much I shouldn’t. It’s amazing how much he’s helped me focus my anger and help me to grow since we met. He’s a remarkable man that I could easily love. Yeah, I said it. I could love him, and if it happened, I’d be okay with it, too. In some ways, I already did, because he made me see that it was okay to hate and love and feel all at the same time. It was okay to just be me, whoever that was, as long as I was true to myself.

His voice reminded me that once I had made the choice to stay with him, to accept his protection, I could never turn back. And it was the right choice. I knew that now, just as I had the moment I looked into his gorgeous eyes and placed my hand in his that day outside his home office. There was no returning to my childhood home. I made my choice and I was happy with it too. Ruslan Volsky was the type of man you could count on. Sure, he is just as dangerous as my father, maybe more so, but there is so much more to him than the dangerous mafia boss in a seriously hot and sexy suit.

How did I know that? Why was I so certain of that fact? Because he was prepared to put his life on the line to help me. It was as simple as that. He was willing to fight to the death for me... a girl he barely knew and had never bedded.

Good God, just the thought of being in his bed drove my body wild, shamelessly soaking my panties. His need to protect me was honorable and sexy, but it was fucking stupid, too. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate his giving me a choice in the matter, a choice to accept him as a protector, and if he won the fight, to accept him as a husband. He didn’t have to help me. He owed me nothing, and yet he promised me everything.

But why? What did he have to gain from it? I wasn’t a great catch. Or was I? I couldn’t think about that now. As bad a man as I’m sure Ruslan could be, he was equally as good. Beneath the blood staining his hands, he was a hero. A perfectly deadly hero, I guess you could say.

A smile curved up the corners of my lips and I took a deep breath to settle my nerves. Now was the time to show my strength, to let the princess become a queen. It was time to rule, not cower. No way would I ever be accepted back into the Markow fold. Was I okay with that? Hell yes! Yes, I was. I was finally free to make my own choices, to live a life of my choosing.

The threat my father leveled upon me was clear. The dark and menacing tone of his voice as he bellowed his rage through the phone at me sent a wave of chills down my spine. My body trembled with rage, but shockingly enough, I didn’t feel an inkling of fear. I probably should feel fear of what was coming though, knowing what he was capable of. But I pushed all of that aside and let the darkness seep in.

I’ve changed.

My father. He’s the reason I’m growing cold. I’m a product of his own creation. He is the one that has created the darkness, billowing like smoke, filling me to overflowing. And Ruslan Volsky is the reason I’m more powerful and sure of who I am now.

The sounds of my mother’s sobs filled the silence after he spoke his final word. Forcing my shoulders back, tilting my chin up with determination and courage, I licked my lips and let it all go.

“I do NOT fear you, Father,” I shouted. “Your threats do NOT scare me. If I’m to die, then so be it, but I will not cower to you, Father. I will stand before you and fight until the bitter end, no matter what that end might be.”

My voice grew stronger and more powerful as each venomous word spilled from my lips. Silence filled the line, the only sound to be heard a sudden inhalation of breath. Was my father shocked by my outburst?

And then it happened. He laughed.

My words did not shake. My lips did not tremble as his boisterous laugh vibrated in my ear. “Goodbye, Father.” I stabbed my finger on the end call button and let out a deep huff of air.

He didn’t fear me. That would be his mistake. His undoing, as it were.

Ruslan and his men have instilled a power within me, and I’m thankful for that. Being in their presence has shown me just how much power a woman like me can have in this nasty, corrupt world of ours.