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Alarm flashes across her face. Her hand grasps my hand around her throat. “You can’t. You cannothurt him. If you try and he figures out it’s you, he’ll murder you in cold blood. I told him we were married. I’m sure he already hates you for foiling his plan. Don’t give him a reason to kill you because he’ll take it in a heartbeat.”
Again, what the hell is she talking about? Trying to follow her is giving me whiplash. But hold up—did she say married? “You told him. You told a total stranger you were married? What the fuck, Crina?” My voice is a harsh shout by the end. She won’t even tell Star and Gabby, but she told this random fuckhole. “Who is he? Tell me who he is.”
She flounces her hands in exasperation. “Alexei Kotov, that’s who he is!”
My eyes bulge and I feel the distinct pounding of a headache coming at me like a runaway train. In as controlled a tone as I can muster up, I warily recap, “The Bratva boss kidnapped you on a Monday morning.”
“Yes, and he’s not just the Bratva boss. He’s my piece-of-shit, sperm donor of a father.”
Seething, she drops her hand from mine and makes a gesture as if she’s strangling someone. “I could kill her for this. I swear I have no idea how she got caught up with that loser all those years ago, but once she got pregnant, she knew how dangerous he was and tried to hide me from him. But he figured it out. Somehow, the rat bastard found me, got his thugs to grab me off the street, and tossed me into his car for achat.”
The more she divulges, the more my temples throb. A rushing sound floods my eardrums. He grabbed her off the street. In our ’hood? In Sunnyside, Queens, aka Little Bucharest, where there Romanianmafiemade men are crawling the streets? That’s like me, Lucian, and Anton riding down to Brighton Beach and blatantly abducting a girl right off the street. I mean, that’s insane. That’s a level of bold I don’t have words for. Bold or…desperate.
“What did he want with you?”
“Marriage.”
I slap my hand on the wooden bookshelf above her head and grip it hard. Icy fury fills my chest. “Come again? And explain it in detail, Crina, before I lose my temper.”
“He wanted to use me like a pawn in this imminent war between the Romanian and Russian mafia. To force me to marry some Russian prick, no doubt. So I told him I was yours. I threw it in his face, watched him choke on his worthless plan, and ordered him to let me go.”
A flood of pure, unadulterated satisfaction rips through me. It’s so forceful, so all-consuming, its aftershocks linger long afterwards. Fuck yes, she did. Crina told that fucker that she was mine.Mine.And then she managed to trick him into letting her go. It’s a miracle. She’s a miracle.
She keeps going with a haughty lift of her chin, “I told him he was a day too late. That we got married yesterday. And before his beady little eyes could light up with mischief, I told him I was no longer a virgin. I told him you made sure of that so he was good and truly fucked. Then I demanded he let me go. He mayclaimto be my father, but in front of God and everyone, you’ve already claimed me as your wife.”
I grip her throat and bring her lips to mine. Slowly, reverently, my lips brush hers. It’s her reward for confiding in me, but more importantly, for her cleverness. “Good girl.”
There’s just one chink in my clan’s plan, in our mothers’ plan, in my plan and I know what I need to do to seal it. “You were such a good girl, such a clever girl, but we’ve got to get rid of that pesky cherry, don’t we?”
Going completely still, she absently licks her top and then her pouty bottom lip. Her eyes glaze over again as she scrapes her lower lip repeatedly. “Huh?”
“Married or not, you always knew I’d be your first. Might not be the setting you planned on, but this is happening. Here and now. I gently release her, pull out the white kerchief in the pocket of my school jacket, and wave it in front of her face. And this is going to catch the proof we need. I’ll send it to him personally.” Fear tightens her features. “No one else needs to know,” I assure her. “Not your mother. Not your friends. But he must.”
She snatches at the handkerchief, but I quickly lift it out of her reach and sprint away from her.
Crina runs after me. “No! I don’t want you near that madman. I already told him that I’m not a virgin. There’s no reason to prove it to him.”
My chest burns with the necessity to flaunt that she’s mine to that Russian maniac. Her mother sure as hell couldn’t protect her. Only I can.
She grabs for my shirt, but I feint left and then right. She lets out a little scream of frustration as she runs after me.
“You’ll only mock him,” she insists, “goading him to come after you. How do we know he isn’t plotting to kill you at this very moment?”
I chuckle at her fears. “No one’s going to kill me.” I pause and answer soberly, “But let him try. I’ll gut him like the Bratva pig he is.”
“No, you won’t,” she replies in an agitated tone as she rushes up to me. “You won’t gut him.” She lunges and snatches the handkerchief from my hand. “You won’t bring him anything. You won’t even breathe in his direction. You won’t do anything. Do you hear me?”
God, I love her bossiness.Mafiemen are always going on about the sweet, soft-hearted girls they want to marry. But me? I like them just like Crina, boss bitch all the way. She’s a challenge and challenges get my blood going.
I step toward her, making her back up until her butt hits the edge of a table. We’re so close our chests are touching. Expression hard, I make my own demand. “On one condition. I take your virginity now. We take care of it and I promise that I won’t flaunt it,” I pinch the handkerchief back from her and shake it. “That’s the deal.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Ugh, why do you have to be such a pain?” She presses her hand on my chest and tries to push me back, but I don’t budge an inch. “There’s nowhere to…to do this. The carpet is,” she glances down, “eww. And the tables? What, are we going to f-fuck on the table?”
Are those nerves I hear?
I grab her hips and sit her on the mahogany table. “Are you doubting my skills, Chuckie? ’Cause I’ll have you creaming on my cock wherever we do it.”
She shoves me harder. “For God’s sake, Marku, you’re so crude.”
