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Emma chuckled. “You’ve both been in each other’s pants. I wouldn’t say you’re strangers.”
I rolled my eyes and sprawled on one of the bisque-colored, L-shaped sofas in my living room. “It was a mistake.” That was a lie. There was no guarantee I wouldn’t have had sex with Nikolai if I wasn’t high on heartbreak and martini.
“Was it?”
I bit my lips like a teenager who’d been caught trying to sneak out at midnight by her mother. “Okay. Okay. I admit it wasn’t, but girl, you should see him. His shoulders are so broad, and his abs are rock-hard.”
“And his cock?”
I flushed, my insides electrifying as I recalled the way he thrust in and out of me. “His cock was made in heaven.”
We both chuckled. “Girl, rather than turn him down so bluntly, why not try to have a relationship with him first? Go on a couple of dates and see if he’s someone you can live with.”
“I told you before, he’s crazy. I don’t like crazy…or marriage.”
“What do you plan to do? Become a single mother?”
I leaned on the headboard and stared at the ceiling. I didn’t believe in love, and I’d never planned to get married for love either. But I’d also never planned to get married just because I was pregnant, and to a man like Nikolai nonetheless. “I would rather that than marry him.”
“Why?” Emma asked, her voice a blend of concern and curiosity. “It’s not like he’s asking you to love him.”
“He isn’t, but there’s something else I haven’t told you about him.” I inhaled. I didn’t know how Emma was going to take what I was about to tell her, but I couldn’t keep it from her forever. “His brother is the head of the Bratva.”
She gasped over the phone. “Tell me you’re joking.”
“I wish I was.” I shifted from the couch to the coffee table and wrapped my hand around the cup of hot macchiato, allowing heat to seep into my skin. “I don’t believe him though. I mean, does the mafia still exist? No way, right?”
Emma was silent for a while. “It does. A friend of mine is a soldier in one of the families. He wouldn’t tell me which though.”
My chest tightened. “So the mafia does exist.”
“Yes.” I imagined Emma nodding as she said it. “Give me a second.” I heard her keyboard clacking, and when it stopped seconds later, she drew her attention back to our call. “Nikolai Vadim, you said his name was?”
“Nikolai Vadim, yes.”
“It says he’s the second son of the Vadim family. Apparently, they own most of the clubs, hotels, casinos, and even an airline in the state.”
“Yeah?” I already knew about them owning a lot of businesses. The Vadim name was popular, although the Vadim family’s sources of wealth had been questioned for years.
They owned estates in Chicago that even the top politicians didn’t seem to be able to afford. Some said it was old money, but no one dared openly confront them about it.
“Have you heard about their parents?”
I pulled my hand away from the cup. Either the macchiato had gotten cold, or my palms had adapted to the hotness. “No. You know I don’t care about stuff like that.”
“You should now, considering they’re your child’s grandparents.” She paused. “They died in a mysterious accident years ago. The news sheet says there were reasons to believe it wasn’t just an accident. They believed it was murder.”
“Murder?” My interest was piqued.
“Yes, but the investigation was swept under the rug, and no one spoke of it ever since.”
Mafia. Murder. I didn’t like where this was going. “You think it has something to do with the mafia?”
“It seems so, but we can’t say for certain.”
“Hmm.” I took a long drink from my coffee. “The Vadims are billionaires. It doesn’t make sense that they’d allow their parent’s death to be swept under the rug like it’s nothing. They have the power and influence to get to the bottom of what killed them.”
“You’re right. You know what that means, right?”
