Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

C hantel

New York.

The city of millions of lights.

The Big Apple.

I'd wanted to live in the vibrant location all my life. Sure, LA was amazing in its own way, especially when your father had money. I'd grown up in a fabulous house in Beverly Hills, people watching all the beautiful people worth millions.

Including celebrities of all types.

I'd lived a life of luxury, never wanting anything.

The palm trees lining the streets were lovely, but the traffic was horrific.

My mother wasn't really motherly in the traditional way, adoring the money and the clout, the ability to redesign and decorate the Mediterranean house every few years. She knew how to throw the most fabulous parties, the kind you developed a reputation for.

I'd thought I lived a fairytale.

I'd been a teenager when I'd realized the full extent of how dangerous my father was. To me, he'd been just a great guy who'd pretended to be Santa Claus every Christmas and had even helped with boy issues.

Until the day I walked in on him executing a man in cold blood.

That fairytale had been shattered.

My father had told me the man had betrayed him, but to put a bullet in his brain? It was the stuff thriller movies were made of. From then on, I'd gleaned information, and had listened in better on conversations, including the whispers my supposed friends had made behind my back. I learned never to trust anyone but family.

But in New York, to my father's anger, I would drop my last name, using my mother's maiden name to blend in. I wanted to make my own name. Not being known as a Bratva princess. I'd been forced to beg and cajole then finally remind my father I would soon turn twenty-five and could simply walk out.

He'd allowed it, insisting on giving me money, which I'd refused. This was the make it or break it moment for me.

So, the job was low on the totem pole, but I didn't plan on staying there for very long. I'd worked my fucking butt off.

Unfortunately, I was required to fulfill one last duty as daughter of the infamous Vissarian Kuzmin, Pakhan of Los Angeles.

I had to attend a party with my parents.

It wasn't that I minded dressing up in designer dresses and heels, or sporting perfect makeup and hair, but the attire wasn't my style. That was my mother's doing. Or maybe I should say insistence. She looked glamorous at all times. I had no clue how a woman could go throughout the day and never look messed up.

Then again, I didn't think she'd worked a day in her adult life. She certainly had never had dirt under her fingernails. Nope. My father hired people to do everything. Me? I was the kid who could easily change oil in a car, replace spark plugs and a few other things. I could even change a tire all by myself.

My father usually just shook his head while my mother tormented me that I would never marry the right man. Like there was one out there. Not for a girl like me. When they found out who I was, or more important who my father was, they either ran far away in fear or were stupid enough to try to impress the important man.

Big mistake.

Huge.

He helped them realize in no uncertain terms they weren't welcome around me.

So much for boyfriends.

At least my father wasn't there for the very awkward moment I'd lost my virginity. It had been such a terrible experience I'd sworn off men, concentrating on school, where I excelled.

But now? I wanted normalcy.

I just had to get through tonight.

As my parents chatted from the back of the rented, very secure SUV, one of two in our little entourage, I studied the bright lights up close and personal. I'd been to New York twice before, but I'd been much younger. I wasn't a fool. I knew it was crime ridden, full of smog, nasty people, and dangerous situations. Let alone the rent sucked, terribly expensive no matter what you rented. If you could find anything.

I'd found that out the hard way.

Thank God my cousin Sonya had lived in the city for a few years, or I might be staying in a flophouse when my parents left, not the most expensive hotel in the city. She'd found a place, although not glamorous, and had even managed to get a few of her friends to hunt down and help move Goodwill-style furniture. It was a start. That's all I needed.

As the driver pulled up in front of the place, I sighed. I'd learned to smile, laugh at jokes, and hide behind a decent glass of cabernet. That's what I planned on doing tonight, while enjoying a gourmet meal. It would be ramen noodles for a long time for me after this.

A flurry of activity occurred when the doors were opened, my father's soldiers both ensuring there wouldn't be assassins capable of firing off any shots and also helping my mother make a glorious entrance onto the sidewalk. She was the queen bee of the night after all.

I jumped out on my own, although I was a little clumsy since I hadn't worn heels in a long time. My father had to grab my arm, his deep chuckle a sound I'd loved as a kid.

"You are so much a tomboy," he said quietly.

"But you love me for it." Given I'd managed to fix his favorite sports car so he could leave in time for a meeting only two weeks before, he better love me.

"You know I will love you no matter what you choose in your life. Now, try and have a good evening. You look enchanting."

"There's a word, Papa."

As we were led inside, I was once again hit in the face with how celebrity-like our entourage was. Even in a glamorous city where celebrities were spotted all the time, there wasn't a single person in the main dining room that didn't turn their heads as we were led through toward a private back room. Papa had learned a long time ago never to sit near a window looking out onto a street or to have your back exposed. That allowed for enemies to swoop in.

Thankfully, there hadn't been an occurrence of violence in years.

I pushed aside all the negative thoughts. I owed my father enough to turn into a lady if nothing else.

The private room was very nice, a fire going in the stone fireplace, beautiful jazz music playing. We had our own bartender, a pretty hot guy I might add. The lights were dim, the atmosphere what I'd call romantic. There were candles on tables, the tablecloths a gothic shade of red. My favorite color.

It was warm, inviting, and I felt instantly comfortable. Someone offered to take my coat and I allowed them to. After that, I immediately headed for the bar. I might as well enjoy the night. I'd be getting my apartment up to snuff tomorrow, my new job starting the morning after that.

"The finest cabernet you have," I told the bartender, clearly flirting. Why not flirt? It wouldn't lead to anything because it couldn't.

"Anything for a beautiful lady."

I noticed one of my father's men out of the corner of my eye and cringed. He was already watching me as if I would be kidnapped right from this secure facility. I did my best to ignore him, walking around the room after getting my wine. At least the vintage was wonderful, the best tasting wine I'd had in a long time. And my father had an extensive wine collection.

As the guests began to show, I knew my obligatory place, doing my best to try to act like the perfect Russian princess. Between the various men kissing my hand, others leering at me from afar, after roughly thirty minutes, my stomach was churning.

I knew how the game worked. There would be another half hour of cocktails followed by a couple of waiters serving appetizers on silver trays. After that we'd sit down to dinner.

Then after dessert and coffee, which my mother insisted on, the men would retire to the chairs and couches surrounding the fireplace, conducting business for fifteen minutes or so.

Until then, I'd be trapped.

"Try not to look like you're getting ready for a root canal without Novocain," my mother told me. She'd ceremoniously removed herself from the wives of the various guests just to tell me that?

"I'm having a great time. Can't you tell?"

She rolled her eyes. "Just don't do anything stupid, sweet girl. This could be a very important night for your father."

"Stop worrying, Mother. I know the drill." I flashed her a huge smile. Of course, I was baiting her to leave me alone.

Her look was as hard as the makeup she'd worn but at least she walked away. Sighing, I glanced around the facility. Suddenly, it felt very hot in the room. I suddenly noticed what appeared to be a door leading outside.

"What's out there?" I asked the bartender.

"Oh, a lovely patio overlooking Fifth Avenue."

"Perfect."

"Allow me to refill your wine."

I gave him a huge grin. "I don't mind if I do."

Wine filled, I glanced around the room to ensure no one was paying attention and headed for the door. I was shocked when I wasn't followed immediately. Soon, the soldiers would go into a tizzy trying to find me. Until then, I could be very much alone.

The patio was incredible, all decked out in beautiful outdoor furniture, a stone fireplace on one end, heaters everywhere. There were two trellises and I could tell there were awnings so the area could be enjoyed in inclement weather. What I loved even more than all the twinkling white lights in the gorgeous ficus trees was the sound of traffic below. I hadn't paid attention to the height difference. I was only one story up, but it allowed for more of a fantasy realm than being directly on the street.

Plus, you could hear music coming from several directions.

I instantly moved to the ornate iron railing, taking a deep breath. Yes, I smelled gasoline and a hint of garbage given the light breeze, but there were also incredible scents of cinnamon and spaghetti sauce, garlic and Chinese food. New Yorkers were an eclectic group of eaters.

The atmosphere was almost electric. There was just a little something missing. Oh, well; at least I could enjoy something so incredible for one night.

I didn't know how long I could stand there but I was enjoying every second of it.

Until I sensed a presence. Of course, one of the soldiers had found me just like I knew he would.

I instantly stiffened, but something else strange occurred.

The flame I'd been missing earlier in my dull life crackled all around me like a wildfire.

A part of me felt frozen, which wasn't like me at all.

Whoever it was certainly didn't work for my father. But I'd thought all the men inside had wives or mistresses. Often, you could never tell the difference.

He moved to the railing about ten feet away from me. I don't know why but I couldn't glance in his direction. Maybe I was terrified it would break the spell. Goosebumps crawled along my arms and I knew instinctively it had nothing to do with the light breeze or the chill in the air. Even though I wasn't wearing my coat.

"There is something to be said for the bright lights of Broadway." The man's voice was deep, husky, and extremely sensual. He had the kind of voice that felt like soft velvet being gently cascaded across your naked skin.

My mouth was suddenly dry, my mind already forming images of what the sexy man could look like.

"Yes, only you can't see much of it from here."

"All you need to do is look east. The world is different only a couple blocks away. Broadway can make or break dreams and careers."

Even his dark chuckle was inviting, so much so my pussy was throbbing, my nipples instantly hard and aching. I was shocked at my body's reaction. I was also fearful if I turned and looked at him, another spell would be broken. In the world of crime syndicates, all the romance novels had gotten it wrong. Very few mafia men were powerful alphas that looked like they'd stepped off the cover of a GQ magazine.

"Ah. Dreams come in abundance. Reality is harsh."

"Very jaded for someone so young."

I lifted my glass to no one in particular. "I was dosed in reality a long time ago. There are no fantasies, no perfect relationships. Life can be what you make it, but if you're not born with a silver spoon in your mouth, you're destined to fail at least a couple times. The best any of us can hope for is to find someone we can stand most of the time, building a life that eventually will drive us insane but in the interim, we can pretend we give a damn."

"Ouch. Whew, lovely lady. Who pissed in your Wheaties this morning?"

Smiling, I finally glanced in his direction. The spell would continue. Even with the quick glance, and only able to make out his profile amid the glare of the city, it was clear the man was built like a Greek god. Flushing, I turned away, "I haven't had much reason to believe in dreams for a while now."

"You can take it from me, sometimes the most thrilling and life-changing moments come when you least expect them."

I was almost wet from his voice alone, but I wasn't one for platitudes. "Not for me."

That was the moment without any sense of hesitation or decency for that matter that the strong, alpha male yanked me against him, knocking the wind out of me.

His cock was pressing hard into my stomach.

My pussy was throbbing.

My pulse increasing.

I couldn't care less if the man took me right here, fucking me like some wild animal.

I wanted to live.

I was electrified.

And this strong, powerful man who smelled like a dream was exactly what I needed.