Dominic
Going down the stairs, I glanced back as the clicking of Rosa’s heels halted as if she were undecided about taking the next step.
She stood with her eyes wide, as she placed her hand above her brow, shielding herself from the early morning sun.
“Rosa?”
She frowned, and then fanned herself. “It’s hot,” she said, with a dumbstruck expression on her face.
“Last time I checked, we had August on the calendar.”
“But it’s Russia,” she replied so matter-of-factly that I needed a moment for her words to sink in.
The minute they did, I tilted my head back and laughed loudly, which probably surprised my people waiting for us on the ground. Folding her arms, she glared at me. “What’s so funny?”
Holding my stomach because it hurt from my amusement, I replied, “Please tell me you aren't one of those people who thinks Russia has only cold weather and bears walk around on the streets as the population sips vodka on a daily basis?” Her cheeks heated as she swallowed loudly, giving me the answers I needed. “Believe it or not, we even have those tall buildings called skyscrapers.”
The glare returned with full force, and she opened her mouth with a comeback, but she was interrupted by a low voice behind me. “Pakhan.” Turning around, I noticed Yuri for the first time standing with the rest of mybykinear three white Mercedes S-classes. He removed the glasses from his face as his observant blue eyes scanned Rose with little interest.
Only one woman interested him, but unfortunately for everyone involved, she died tragically ten years ago when he fell in love with the enemy. Finally, we reached the button of the stairs, coming closer to the men as Vitya and Michael followed us.
“Yuri,” I greeted, as he extended his hand, and one arm hugged me.
“Good to see you.” He patted my back, then murmured for my ears only, “Warehouse.” Fuck. We only met there if no one could deal with the problems but me. Not exactly how I planned my first day back at home with my woman who needed me, but business called.
And the pakhan’s first priority was the Bratva. Nodding, I grabbed Rosa’s chin while she slumped her shoulders, clearly not liking all these scary-looking men. “Krasavica, Michael will take you to headquarters. Get comfortable there, and I’ll come back as soon as I can.” That was what men usually did, right? They informed their women about their whereabouts and all that jazz?
Expecting an emotional outburst or whining, she shocked me with a soft peck on the cheek, and the surprise on the faces of mybykiand Yuri was plain to see.
I fucked women and then dismissed them right away. Never once had I had a mistress who lasted longer than one night. But Rosa was no piece of ass or a mistress, and I’d make sure everyone knew and remembered it.
Michael already had the car ready for Rosa, so I opened the door and motioned for her to get in. She sat comfortably, alone in the back, as I closed it behind her, and Michael hopped in the front seat near the driver, but not before he shared a look with Vitya. Once they left the airport, my attention focused on Yuri, as I ordered, “Talk. Details. Names. Everything.”
Sighing heavily, he proceeded to deliver more information that boiled my blood.
Rosa
“We’re here,” Michael said, while lip-synching to some Russian song that sounded like someone pulled a cat’s tail, and I didn't understand shit, but by his shoulders swaying to the beat and the driver’s constant nodding along, the song seemed quite popular.
To each their own, I guessed. “Thank God,” I muttered, and without bothering to wait, I jumped from the car and looked at the huge mansion standing in front of me.
The huge construction spread horizontally, as though divided into different sections. Made out of brown brick, it probably could withstand fire and tornadoes. Several windows had balconies, and the whole thing was surrounded by the forest in the middle of fucking nowhere. Metal bars with cameras surrounded the area, so no one could enter without notice, or escape for that matter. Overall, the mansion expressed an expensive design but at the same time hopelessness and depression, because the green grass had no flowers, fountains, or little trees. Just concrete paths for long walks and a huge parking area for multiple cars, motorcycles, and… was that a truck?
My stomach flipped as flashbacks assaulted me. My knees wobbled, and Michael caught my arm in time.
This place reminded me so much of the place Erik had kept me, no escape, nothing. “It gets easier in time,” he whispered in my ear, and my eyes travelled to his, finding there, for the first time, the same pain that hid in my heart. “Promise you, it’s not half as bad as it looks.” Squeezing his hand tighter, I let him walk me toward the entrance with massive iron doors, which opened the minute Michael entered a specific code, and then we immediately stepped into another world.
How else could I describe what my eyes saw?
Loud music blared from the speakers, cigar smoke in the air, alcohol, and something else, musky and gagging. Through the blur, I noticed navy-blue couches, billiard tables, men chatting and laughing, along with women sitting on their laps or wandering around or dancing on the table in short skirts or see-through lingerie. A black marble floor reflected the colorful crystal chandelier hanging dangerously low, considering how high those, well… women swayed their hands. Curtains were permanently shut, hammered to the wall with pointed nails where a few jackets hung.
A bar was in the corner of the room with a wooden counter and a better assortment of alcohol than in some clubs. A bartender with a huge tiger tattoo on his arm efficiently created new drinks and passed them to anyone who ordered. In other words, apparently the mafia guys unwound here.
He brought me to his headquarters? Cosa Nostra’s headquarters in New York were located outside of town too, where members owned rooms, practiced their fighting and gun skills, fucked whores, and generally discussed business. As far as I remembered, Dad used to live in there too before he married Mom, or so I was told.
This reminded me a lot of biker compounds I read in romance novels. Wasn't mafia supposed to be different?
“I think this place requires no introduction,” Michael joked. “Once you walk farther into the main lobby, the second floor’s right wing belongs to the pakhan, so that will be your place too. The first floor consists of single rooms for the Bratva, Dom’s office, basement, kitchen, and dining room. The outside has a swimming pool, sauna, firing range, and various equipment for gym activity. Any questions?”
