Beholden to the Bratva: A Russian Mafia Romance Novel Read online

  Beholden to the Bratva

  A Russian Mafia Romance Novel

  By Maura Rose

  TNA Publishing

  Beholden to the Bratva © 2018 by Maura Rose

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously; any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design © Ran Designs

  First Edition February 2018

  Chapter 1: Lina

  Lina began wiping up the tables, even though nobody was around. It was something to keep her occupied—at least physically. Her mind was still scrambling.

  It was too much to hope that a customer would actually walk in the door. Oh, sure, they had their few regulars, but the once-bustling family restaurant had seen its customers dwindle over the last few years. The gentrification of the surrounding neighborhood hadn’t helped. All of these hip new restaurants opening, who wanted to go to a tiny old Lithuanian restaurant?

  At least they didn’t have to pay any other staff. Her father Darius served as the cook. Marcos, the young grandson of a friend of her father’s, would come in and help with things, but they didn’t have to pay him much. Lina was everyone else: hostess, waitress, part-time cook, and backup dishwasher.

  Once, the restaurant had been bustling. The little bells that had hung over the door would jingle every few minutes. “Go to Audra’s,” people would say. “Best comfort food in town.”

  How were they to pay the bills? Lina wondered. They could barely afford to cover their rent for the place. Perhaps it was time to downgrade. Food trucks were making a lot of money with far lower overhead costs. Surely they could make whatever food they made in the restaurant in a food truck. Sell off the furniture…

  Lina sighed. Her father would never go for it. Darius clung to this restaurant. Lina knew it was partially because he had named it after her mother. Her father liked to say that he had only two reminders of her: this restaurant, and Lina herself. Lina had seen just a few pictures of her mother, the ones from the partially-burnt photo album that had escaped the house fire. She had to admit she could see the family resemblance: blonde hair, a round face, dark blue eyes.

  Lina often wondered about the thoughts behind those blue eyes which mirrored her own. Would her mother be hiding her frustrations as Lina did? Would she be as worried about Darius as Lina was every day? Would her mother be spending every day trying to think of a way to tell Darius, “this isn’t working out, cut your losses”? Or would her mother be patient and optimistic, holding onto the restaurant as Father did?

  “You’ll scrub right through the wood if you wipe it down another time, Lina.”

  She jumped, startling. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t even noticed her father approaching.

  “Well, I have to keep busy, even if the restaurant isn’t.” Lina smiled at him.

  Her father’s eyes darkened a little and she could almost see the weight settling in around his shoulders. Lina held in her sigh. She remembered as a little girl how vibrant her father was, how full of joy. That man had vanished long ago, after her mother’s death when Lina was only four. Now it seemed like nothing she did could get him to smile.

  “Father…” Lina took a deep breath. “I know, that your first instinct will be to say no, but I just want you to think about—”

  “If it’s about selling the restaurant, sweetheart, I’m sorry but I can’t—”

  “Don’t tell me that, please.” Lina did sigh this time. She felt like one of those teenagers in high school films, needlessly rebellious and always rolling their eyes at their ‘old-fashioned’ parents. She didn’t mean to be ungrateful. But it was clear that they couldn’t go on as they had been. “I know that this place means a lot to you. It means a lot to me! I grew up here. But—”

  The bells over the front door chimed.

  Lina shivered, both in fear and anticipation. It was Friday. She knew what that meant. This wasn’t an ordinary customer or one of their still-loyal regulars stopping by. It was the unusual group of customers that came in every week, noon on the dot, and always requested the back private dining room.

  Lina wasn’t an idiot. She knew that these men were criminals. What kind, and how, she didn’t know, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. A small group of well-dressed men with Russian accents who come in once a week at the same time, request a private room, and snap at you when you ask questions? Yeah. She could put two and two together. Especially with how her father seemed to lose his spine whenever they walked into the restaurant.

  Not that she could blame him. These men were clearly bad news. Her father had already experienced tragedy once in his life, and she knew he was terrified of losing everything once again. And these men did not look like the kind to be messed with.

  First, there was the man who was obviously the boss. Lina knew his name, because her father had said it plenty of times: Bogdan. He was older, and had put on weight, but Lina could see by his tall stature and the structure of his face that he must have been quite handsome, once. The cold look in his eyes, though… it reminded Lina of a shark. She shivered again. Cold, dead, bloodthirsty. All she had to do was look into Bogdan’s eyes to know that he was dangerous.

  The other four men were all second place compared to Bogdan. They stood a little behind him, speaking only when spoken to, and looked to him occasionally as if seeking guidance. One looked boyishly young, while the man next to him and sometimes whispering in his ear—dispensing advice, Lina thought—was older, with a perpetual five o’clock shadow and salt and pepper hair. The remaining two had to be Bogdan’s relatives. One was on the short side, but he had his father’s eyes, right down to the dead, cold look in them. The fourth…

  Lina shivered again, this time for entirely different reasons. The fourth man was the one she ended up staring at every time he came in, no matter how ashamed she felt for it. These were obviously dangerous men, men that scared her father, and she had no business lusting after one of them.

  This one, though—it was hard not to. He was tall like Bogdan, with pale blonde hair that wasn’t slicked back like the others’, instead curling soft and touchable. His eyes were icy blue but seemed piercing and discerning rather than bloodthirsty. As for the rest of him… well, with a suit cut and tailored like that, there was just enough left to the imagination to have Lina feeling hot and flushed. None of the others were ugly, but this man was undeniably handsome.

  It didn’t help that he kept looking at her. The others tended to ignore her unless they were leering at her, making jokes at her, all of it aimed to make her uncomfortable. Men that catcalled were all disgusting, but Lina could tell the difference between the ones who were doing it because it was a habit and the ones who did it to make her feel afraid. These men were the latter. It made her all the more determined to keep on her bland, smiling waitress face. She would never let men like this see her tremble. You could never let men like this smell fear on you, for it would only encourage them.

  But this one looked at her all the time. It was like he couldn’t help it. And he didn’t just look at her legs or her breasts. He looked at her, straight into her eyes, like she was a puzzle he wanted to figure out. Sometimes he’d look at her, and she’d see this aching heat in his eyes, like
he wanted to peel every layer off of her. Those moments it was all she could do not to press herself up against him.

  She blamed it firmly on being too busy with her father to find a proper boyfriend. God, when was the last time she’d been on a date? It felt like years. Now she’d gotten so desperate she was lusting after a Russian criminal. No thanks. She had more sense than that. That man, no matter how handsome, could only be trouble.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said, smiling brightly.

  The men all glanced at her and then looked away, except for the one. He smiled at her, softly, like a secret. “Good afternoon, Miss Lina.”

  The way his accent-tinged voice curled around her name made her wonder what his tongue would feel like curled around hers. Oh my god, Lina, cut it out, she thought. Don’t be a goddamn idiot.

  “Darius, my friend!” Bogdan bellowed, holding his arms open wide in greeting.

  “Bogdan,” Lina’s father replied. “A pleasure, as always.”

  Lina hated this. She hated how her father, usually so in control, turned into a simpering fool the moment these men entered. It was fear, she knew, fear and years of growing up in a country where men like this owned the world. Even in America, those old ties held over. People immigrated over only to find themselves in the same situation, only in a new country.

  It made her blood boil. She’d like to see every one of these men on a rack, for the way they made her father bow and scrape.

  “I take it you would like the back room?” Her father asked. As if the men ever sat anywhere else.

  “If it is available,” Bogdan replied. His smile was like a shark’s, all teeth and tasting blood.

  “Of course,” Darius said.

  Of course, Lina thought, in a much different tone. As if her father would dare let anyone else use it at this time. And, she added, as if anyone else would want to use it. The days of hosting large family parties for the neighbors were over.

  “Lina,” her father said, still smiling in that cowed way that she hated, “If you will please show our friends to their table?”

  It was years of serving that kept the smile on her face. “Of course. If you’ll follow me, gentlemen?”

  Sometimes she wondered if the men knew how much she hated them in her heart of hearts. She thought that maybe her man—not that he was her man, or anything, but she had no other name for him—she thought that maybe sometimes he knew. He would flash a quick look at her, different from the appraising one or the heated one. It was always a quick, darting look, and Lina dared to think that maybe he was ashamed.

  Lina led them through the empty restaurant and into the back. A part of her—the dangerous part of her—wondered if she should just confront these men. They were obviously criminals, and judging by their suits they were rich criminals. If they were going to be using her father’s back room for whatever their illegal business was and there were no other customers, the least they could do is pitch in on rent or something.

  It was no more than a pipe dream, though. Lina didn’t want her family more mixed up with criminals then they already were. It was bad enough that these men came in. She found herself wondering if the weekly visit from this group had anything to do with the decline in customers. Some of their neighbors must surely think they were a front for the Russian mob or something. It would be better to start fresh.

  She led them down a short hallway at the back of the main dining room, then opened the door on the right for them. It opened into a small, intimate back room. Once, people had used it for Bat and Bar Mitzvahs and birthday parties. Now its only purpose was for these men. Lina tried to swallow her bitterness.

  “Shall I get you gentlemen menus?” She asked as they filed in. “Or will it be the usual for everyone?”

  “You know us well, my dear,” Bogdan replied. “Such a good memory.”

  It ought to be good, Lina thought to herself, seeing as they came in every week and most likely scared all their other customers away. But she made sure that none of that showed on her face.

  “Two orders of meat dumplings, two orders of zeppelin dumplings, and one bowl of cold beet soup?”

  Bogdan smiled and nodded. The other men started talking to each other quietly in Russian. Lina had grown up speaking Lithuanian first, but they’d moved to the States when she was young enough that she’d quickly absorbed the many other languages spoken around her. She was fluent in English and Italian and knew a bit of Polish and even some words in Yiddish. Russian she only knew a few words and phrases, but enough to know that the men were talking about the food.

  “And would you like anything to drink to start you off with?” She asked.

  “Ah, you know us too well,” Bogdan laughed. “Yes, please, bring a bottle of Stolichnaya and glasses for all. Bring one for yourself, too.”

  Lina paused. “I shouldn’t drink while working, sir, but thank you.”

  “Nonsense!” Bogdan’s jovial demeanor fell away and his cold eyes fixed upon her. “A bottle of Stolichnaya and six glasses.”

  Lina forced herself to take a slow, calm breath. It wouldn’t help her or her father to start arguing with him. “Of course. With pleasure.”

  Bogdan was all smiles again. “Wonderful.”

  Lina escaped from the room as quickly as she could, nearly running into her—not her, Lina, she chastised herself—the man, the handsome one. He held the door open for her, his eyes soft like an apology.

  Don’t let it fool you, Lina reminded herself. He was mixed up with these men. He could only be bad news.

  She dropped her gaze and hurried out the door.

  Chapter 2: Viktor

  Viktor watched Lina as she disappeared through the doorway, closing the door behind her. He couldn’t help himself. She was beautiful, it was true, but that wasn’t what held him. Or, rather, it wasn’t that alone that held him. He could see how she looked at them all when she thought no one could see. There was fire in her gaze, like she’d set them all ablaze if she could. But she handled them all with poise and ease to their faces, dealing with his father’s moods and power plays. She was a clever little thing, and he liked the taste of fire he saw in her.

  Not that it would do him any good to make a move. For one thing, Ivan would make a thing out of it and find some way to ruin it just to spite Viktor. For another, Lina was already more mixed up with the Sokolov family than she knew. He couldn’t drag her further into it. And he had a feeling that if he tried, she’d slap him a good one.

  Still, he couldn’t help but watch her. It didn’t hurt a man to daydream a little, to wonder how her hips would fit under the curve of his hands, what her lips would taste like, what sounds she would make as he touched her.

  “It seems somebody is smitten,” his father noted with far too much glee.

  Viktor leveled a glare at him. The last thing he needed was his father needling him about a supposed crush. Bogdan wasn’t a gentle man by any means, but he’d always been hardest on his younger son.

  “So I look at her ass. Is that what goes for ‘smitten’ nowadays?” He asked, aiming for annoyed. If his father actually realized Viktor had a crush on Lina, he’d never hear the end of it from anyone.

  “Mmm, true,” Vladimir interjected. He was an older man with salt and pepper hair who never seemed to be able to get rid of his five o’clock shadow. He also took special pleasure in stealing what didn’t belong to him. “She’s quite the pretty one. Looks like her mother. Maybe I should ask her out, Vanya, what do you think?”

  Viktor didn’t know which annoyed him more, the inappropriate use of such a nickname, a nickname only family could use with him, or the blatant threat to Lina. Still, he couldn’t afford to turn this into a proper fight. First off, Vladimir was one of his father’s high-up men, someone his father depended on. Second, if Viktor showed that he actually cared, Vlad would make it his mission to get Lina, just to piss Viktor off.

  Bogdan slapped on the table, and conversation ceased. Viktor’s gaze automatically flew to h
is father, as did everyone else’s.

  “Enough talk of pretty girls,” Bogdan growled. “We are here to conduct business. This is not a strip club.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement. Bogdan settled back in his chair, indicating for Viktor to sit as well. He did so, next to Ivan.

  “To business. First, Ivan, have you been able to get any more information from our friends at the train station regarding our latest shipment?”

  Ivan scowled. It was his default facial expression. “Yuri said the freight hasn’t even made it to the trains yet. He suspects some sort of hold-up at the docks, but hasn’t heard anything official yet,” Ivan said. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I don’t think he’s bullshitting. I think what he’s saying is true. Now, whether or not the guys at the docks are trying to fuck us around, on the other hand…that remains to be seen.”

  “Ah,” Bogdan said curtly. “Well, it seems we may need to put some pressure on our contacts over at the docks then, eh?”

  Pavel, seated next to Vladimir, opened his mouth as if to speak, but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Yes, come in,” Bogdan barked.

  Viktor sent Pavel a sympathetic look. Pavel was younger than the others, fresh faced, and mostly served as their driver and gopher. Viktor thought it was a bit cruel of his father to have Pavel come to all of these meetings as if he was important, and then treat him like nothing more than an errand boy and slap down any suggestion that Pavel made. Either have him be a driver and sit in the car or in the main dining area or have him as an equal at the table. To keep him hanging in the middle was useless and only served as another way to make his father feel powerful and important.

  He was distracted as the door opened. His eyes fastened on it automatically, and he tried to school his expression into something casual and nonchalant. After the teasing he’d just received, he couldn’t afford to look like a lovesick puppy.