Russian Bad Boy's Princess: A Mafia Romance Read online

  The blonde cocked her head. “You truly do not speak Russian?”

  Her accent was thick, but Maria could at least understand her English. “Not really. I have some Russian, but my father only uses Russian for business. My mother was American.”

  There was a pfft noise and a few muttered curses, but the woman finally offered her hand to Maria. “You might as well get up and come with us. My name is Ana and this is Olga. We are your maids.”

  “Good morning.” Maria got gratefully to her feet. “Where can I shower?”

  “Your suite is across the hall.” Olga gestured out the door. “You have a bathroom, and we have unpacked all of your clothing in there.”

  Across the hall. Maria mouthed the words. Why was her room across the hall? Was that just for privacy or something?

  Olga and Ana exchanged a look. Ana cleared her throat. “Our pakhan did not intend to share his quarters with you.”

  “Although last night was your wedding night,” Olga said hastily. “I am sure you will be allowed to sleep in your own rooms from now on.”

  “Of course.” Maria swallowed back her fears and tried to feel positive. It was going to turn out okay. It was.

  ***

  “So.” Dimitri leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “A married man, eh?”

  “You know our Sasha probably left the woman gasping for breath and begging him to stop for sleep and sustenance,” Kirill added. The man was cleaning his gun on a side table. The entire weapon was disassembled and laid out neatly before him.

  Sasha smirked as he relaxed in his leather chair. This was the usual way of things. Every Monday morning, they went through this routine of joking and laughing while they speculated about the details of his sex life. It usually amused him, but this time there was an almost dark feeling to the teasing and good-natured ribbing. Sasha had not had sex last night. Not with his pretty little Sokolov bride.

  “Enough!” Sasha declared in Russian. “Shall we do some actual work this morning?”

  His friends turned to gape at him. A howling mass of fur and nails interrupted their ill-mannered staring. The dog barreled into the room as though the denizens of hell were after him.

  “What is that dog’s problem?” someone shouted.

  “Here, Nicolai!” Sasha snapped his fingers at the Caucasian shepherd dog. The animal weighed nearly 120 pounds and looked like the bears his ancestors had been bred to hunt.

  Nicolai laid his huge head on Sasha’s knee. His big soulful eyes looked almost relieved. Drool from his panting smeared across Sasha’s leg. Obviously the animal had been given a scare. Nicolai was Sasha’s pride and joy. He would have the hide of whoever had frightened his dog.

  “Lie down,” Sasha ordered the dog.

  Nicolai sank to the floor and rolled to his side.

  A maid peeked into the office. Sasha rolled his eyes and snapped off a command in Russian for her to enter. They were going to get nothing done this morning, with all these interruptions.

  “I came for Nicolai,” Olga said hastily. “Your lady terrified the dog when she woke up and found him licking her.”

  Dimitri was already laughing. “She’s afraid of dogs?”

  “I would suspect.” Olga wrinkled her nose at Dimitri. She was forever flirting with the men.

  Sasha grunted. This was a disturbing development. He could not abide cowards. But then, who wouldn’t be alarmed to be thus awakened? Nicolai did seem fierce until you got to know him. “Give him his breakfast and let him outside.”

  Nicolai perked up at the mention of food and a trip outside.

  As soon as the maid was gone, a slow smile crossed Kirill’s face. “How like a Sokolov to be timid as a mouse. Surely you’re not going to put up with this bitch for long, are you?”

  “I haven’t decided just yet.” Sasha turned his mind back to work. “Now. Can we do something productive please?”

  ***

  She could do this. She really could. At least that is what Maria kept telling herself. She was going to fit in. She was going to make friends or—well, whatever. She just had to keep her chin up and remember that she was a valued member of this Tarasov family. She had been born a hated Sokolov, but the council had declared her to be the only bride for the Tarasov pakhan. She was the peacemaker. Right?

  Setting her brush on the vanity, Maria put her face in her hands and tried not to cry. Her chest felt tight, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Then she heard Olga and Ana whispering in the hallway and forced herself to straighten up and act cool and confident.

  “Come in,” Maria told the women. “If you wouldn’t mind, I need someone to reach the zipper on the back of my blouse.”

  She stood up and held out her arms. Olga quickly closed the delicate little zipper between her shoulder blades, and Maria reached for her snappy little jacket. Her pastel outfit looked perfect. She was everything any man could want in a wife.

  “I’m ready.” Maria turned. “Please give me a tour of the house. And I’d like to speak with the cook about the menu for today.”

  Olga and Ana raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other with what looked like expressions of confusion. Olga cleared her throat. “Um, madam, our pakhan has a housekeeper who takes care of that sort of thing.”

  “Oh.” Maria swallowed. This was going to be more complicated than she’d thought. “Then take me to see her.”

  Olga shrugged. “All right.”

  Maria followed the two women out of her suite and down a flight of steps to the main floor. The mansion was beautifully furnished with expensive antiques and priceless art. Obviously Sasha was a man of wealth and taste. Maria felt a little jolt of excitement at the idea of being mistress of such a place. This was going to be fun. She would soon figure out the lay of the land, and things would be good. Her little kitten heels clicked across the polished wood floors as they approached the kitchen.

  “In here,” Olga said as she motioned Maria ahead.

  Maria entered the big, warm kitchen and found herself in the midst of about a half dozen women working on a meal. Maria’s father had employed a cook to handle the household meals, but Maria loved to cook and experiment with new things in the kitchen. She was actually looking forward to managing her own kitchen.

  “Tatiyana Orlov.” Olga gestured to a matronly woman in a neat pantsuit. “This is our new mistress, Maria Sokolov.”

  “Maria Tarasov,” Maria corrected automatically. Then she smiled at the housekeeper. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  The woman answered back in Russian, although she was staring at Olga, making it hard to tell whom she was addressing. The Russian was a little difficult to understand, but Maria got some of it.

  “Who is this woman to march into my kitchen like she belongs here? Out! Get her out!” At least that’s what Maria was almost certain she heard right before she spun on her heel and exited the room with her cheeks burning. Everyone in the kitchen was laughing. At her.

  ***

  Sasha had barely gotten anywhere with his men when Olga poked her head into his office once again. He heaved a giant sigh and waved her in. “What now? Has Nicolai destroyed something?”

  “Oh no,” Olga said quickly. “I just thought you should know that your new lady has declared that she is going home.”

  “Excuse me?” Sasha did not bother to hide his annoyance. What was this domestic bullshit he suddenly had to deal with? “What happened?”

  He ignored the round of guffaws from his men and focused on Olga’s explanation. “Well, the lady asked to be introduced to the cook and the maids so that she could talk about menus or something like that. So I took her to the kitchen and introduced her to Tatiyana.”

  Sympathetic hissing filled the room as the men considered what had likely happened to Sasha’s poor stupid bride. Tatiyana was a hard-ass. More than one of them had been left smarting by either her hand or her tongue.

  “I’m sure that went well,” Sasha muttered. “Where is she?
”

  “Tatiyana?” Olga frowned. “Drinking with cook in the kitchen, probably. They’re usually halfway through a bottle of vodka by now.”

  “No.” Sasha rolled his eyes. But now he knew where all his vodka went. “Where is Maria?”

  “Oh.” Olga shrugged dismissively. “I don’t know. I would assume she’s halfway to her father’s house by now. Does it matter?”

  Sasha grimaced as he stood up. “Does nobody remember that the council demanded I marry the woman? They’re bound to be pissed off when she turns up missing.”

  Olga snorted. “She doesn’t even speak Russian, Pakhan.”

  The men muttered amongst themselves. This was not helping. Dammit. Sasha had entertained the notion that bringing home the Sokolov bride wouldn’t be any sort of inconvenience or require much in the way of change to his ordered life. How wrong he had been!

  Sasha pointed to Dimitri and Kirill. “You two get your asses down to the warehouse and see what the fuck is going on with those shipments.”

  “What about you?” Dimitri spread his hands, looking irritated. “You were going to go with us. Something about not trusting our version of events.” This last bit was unnecessarily sarcastic.

  “Then I guess you’d better improve your memory,” Sasha snapped. “And stop bullshitting me on what’s going on with those manifests. I want to know where the goods are, and I’m not fucking around.”

  Chapter Five

  Sasha found his bride in the backyard. At first glance, it appeared that she had been trying to leave when Nicolai had discovered her in his play area and decided she was a toy. He now had her cornered in the back of the yard. His ball was on the ground between them, and the bear-like dog had his butt in the air with his massive tail wagging eagerly.

  “Get it away!” Maria gasped. She was all but crawling up the fence.

  Sasha snapped a command in Russian. The dog came to his side and lifted its head to gaze adoringly up at him. Stroking the animal’s soft head, Sasha tried to be understanding with his bride. “He’s really quite harmless.”

  “He looks like a ravenous beast!” Maria seemed to calm down enough to step away from the fence.

  “You’re in his yard.” Sasha gestured to the ball. “He brought you a toy because he thought you were here to play.”

  “I was looking for the exit.”

  “Why?”

  She drew herself up to her full, if unimpressive, height of barely five feet six. “I’m going home.”

  “You’re my wife. This is your home.” He cocked his head, wondering if she would actually tell him what had happened. “Did you forget that the council decreed that you should live here with me and why?”

  She looked away, obviously unable to meet his gaze. He liked this demure side of her. Women should be subservient to their husbands. That was the way of it. He would care for her, and she would thank him for it.

  “I know what the council said,” she said stiffly. “But your housekeeper has deplorable manners. How can I be the mistress of our home if they treat me like a child?”

  He opened his mouth to speak and then abruptly closed it. Damn. He was perfectly happy with the way his home was run and did not want it changed. As far as he was concerned, this woman’s presence in his home was short-term. He was already looking for an apartment a few miles away where he could stash her once this strange interest he had in her had abated. But he didn’t want to tell her that. Not before he’d had his fill of her.

  “Look,” he finally said, “I’ll have a talk with Tatiyana.”

  “Thank you.”

  The expression on her face stopped him cold. She looked so grateful. It caused a strange reaction within his body. Why? He turned away to regain control. Throwing his head back, he gazed up at the sky. The pale-blue expanse was studded with fat, white clouds. It was peaceful out here. Why had he never noticed before?

  He turned back to Maria and held out his hand. “Walk with me.”

  She did not even hesitate. Taking his hand, she let him lead her around the edge of the large yard. Nicolai ranged ahead, romping and nosing his way through the grass. How odd. Sasha felt almost content.

  Maria’s hand felt dainty inside Sasha’s. He was being unexpectedly sweet. At least she thought it was sweet. The spring grass was soft beneath her feet and the sun warm on her back. There was nothing but the sound of the dog snuffling along in the grass.

  “What is his name?” She gestured to the fluffy monster.

  “Nicolai.”

  Maria drew back, surprised. “Wasn’t that your father’s name?”

  “Exactly.”

  Okay. Strange. But who was she to judge? “Were the two of you close?”

  “No. I love my dog far more than I ever did my father.” His lips thinned. They took several more steps before he spoke again. “My father was a cruel man with a bad temper and a desire for world domination.”

  She snorted. “And you don’t have a desire for world domination? It seems you Tarasovs try to take your own territory and everyone else’s.”

  “And you know this how?” The admonition was plain in his tone. “You don’t even speak fluent enough Russian to understand the business in your father’s house that went on under your own nose.”

  “I understand enough.” She struggled not to feel belligerent. That wouldn’t get her anywhere. She wanted Sasha to like her, not to think of her as an annoying piece of baggage.

  “So that is why you say I’m like my father? Because that’s what your Sokolov men say? You don’t think we all wish to dominate our world? Territory means revenue, and revenue means profit. My father at least had that right.” He muttered that last bit as though it pained him to admit anything good about his father.

  They passed a cluster of rose bushes, and she had the odd thought that this estate was very well landscaped. Why would a man like Sasha with such a reputation for violence and ruthlessness in business worry about hiring a gardener to oversee his landscaping?

  “Why is it like that? Business, I mean,” she finally asked. Pausing, she cupped an early rosebud in her hand and leaned over to sniff the sweet scent. “Why is everyone so determined to be rich and successful at the expense of everyone else?”

  “Because he who has the most wins,” Sasha said flatly. Then he sighed. “I don’t know why there is so much animosity between the families in this city. It isn’t like that in other areas.”

  “Is it like that in Russia?”

  He seemed to be thinking it over. “Have you never been?”

  “No. Never.”

  “And you speak no Russian?”

  She swallowed back her embarrassment. “I speak very bad Russian.”

  “Give me an example.” The imperious command made her want to scream, but she forced herself to calm down.

  Maria thought it through, trying to come up with something that wouldn’t make her feel too foolish. “I believe you’re a throwback to the Tsars. You’re bossier than a Romanov.”

  Sasha threw back his head and laughed. Maria bit her lip and tried not to smile. It wasn’t the topic that amused her. It was the way her oddly bossy, bullying, and often stoic new husband could howl like a teenager. This man was such a pack of contradictions. She didn’t quite know what to think.

  Sasha’s new bride could butcher the Russian language like the best American tourist. He found her poor command of what should have been their native tongue to be hilarious. He was still snorting about it when the back door opened. Tatiyana hung her head outside.

  “What are you cackling about now?” Tatiyana put her nose in the air and gave them a haughty stare.

  It was odd, but Sasha had never been bothered by Tatiyana’s attitude before now. At the moment she was bordering on hostile. He turned to face her and gave her a stare down his nose that would have frozen his men solid in their boots. She merely tsk-ed at him and put one hand on her generous hip.

  “It’s good that you’re here,” Sasha said suddenly. “You we
re less than friendly toward the new mistress of the house. From now on, housekeeping decisions will be made by my wife, as is her rightful place.” He could always rescind that order and put things back the way they’d been when Maria moved out. Sasha pointed at Tatiyana. “If you have a problem with that, you may leave.”

  “Perhaps I will,” Tatiyana growled. “That useless little girl can’t run a house of this size. Look at her!”

  Sasha glanced at Maria. With her chin stuck out and her brows drawn together in irritation, she looked almost mulish. “Do you think you’ll have trouble running this house?” he demanded. “I like my household to run like a well-oiled machine.”

  “Of course I can run this household,” Maria said primly. “What do you think I’ve been doing at my father’s home all these years?”

  “Then you’re in charge,” he said. Sasha waved toward Tatiyana. “Pack your things and get out. If you’re going to be rude to me and rude to my wife, then I no longer want you in my home.”

  Tatiyana’s mouth fell open in shock. “You cannot be serious. You’re going to leave the running of this house to that child?” Then the woman laughed. “When you’ve got your senses back, call me at my sister’s. I’ll be waiting!”

  “Oh!” Maria gasped.

  Sasha glanced over. Little Maria was practically vibrating with the force of her anger. She clenched her hands tightly and moved as though she were going to march forward and attack Tatiyana. Sasha caught her about the waist and spun her back around.

  “Let her go,” he urged. “She is angry and embarrassed because I’ve called her on her behavior.”

  “She was insulting you!” Maria waved her hand angrily in Tatiyana’s direction. “You cannot let that pass! And I’m not going to. I’m going to knock her block off!”

  Sasha pulled her in close and hugged her tight. “You ridiculous, sweet girl. What am I going to do with you?”

  Sasha’s words nearly made Maria swoon. He sounded so tender! She stopped fighting and snuggled in closer. It didn’t take long for her body to respond to his nearness. It was as if the night they had shared only served to whet her appetite for him. She felt her breasts tingle and a heavy ache settled below her belly.