Page 40 of The Possessive Prince

Rafael chuckles. “Bring her here. Show her how to sit on my knee like a good girl.”

The man behind me begins to push me, but then Rafael holds up his finger. “Wait a second. The prince finally shows his face.”

Nikolai is storming across the club, every inch of him swelling with anger and rage, those protective instincts he tried to warn me about. I realize now I should’ve listened. I shouldn’t be here. He cares more than I thought. Can’t he control himself?

One of Rafael’s men approaches him, and I get my answer. Nikolai grabs his arm and the back of his neck, turns, and throws him over his shoulder in a martial arts move. The man slams into the floor. Nikolai then flies past me and puts his finger in Rafael’s face. He’s practically vibrating. The music cuts out. Men surround us. I feel the tension tighten immediately.

“Time to go,” Nikolai growls.

The man he threw stands, his eyes hazy. He looks around, confused, then walks towards Nikolai with rage in his eyes. Anton steps into his path, glaring at the man. All of the others are waiting for Rafael’s response.

He finally laughs, clapping his hands together. He’s the only one still standing.

“I was just having some fun with her,” he says. “Can you blame me?”

Nikolai backhands him across the face so hard it’s a miracle his silver tooth doesn’t fly out. Rafael leaps to his feet, face red, looking outraged. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Tell your boys, then,” Nikolai snarls. “Tell your fucking boys to come at us. Tell them to grab their pieces if they’ve got them, or fucking use their nails and teeth and grit otherwise. And once it’s done, you’ll walk out of here, the bloody winners. What happens then, Cordero? What happens when the beast of the fucking Bratva hears what you’ve done? Do you think you’re more powerful than us?”

Nikolai is roaring now. His tone has changed to something cold and terrifying. It’s the torn, furious voice of a man capable of doing terrible things. Even Rafael’s men seem uneasy. I can imagine them thinking, He just slapped the boss and got away with it.

“You don’t get to come in here and act like you don’t know who I am,” Nikolai growls, then slams his chest with his fist, making a loud and heavy thudding sound. He points at me, shaking with anger. “And you don’t get to insult a woman just doing her fucking best, a woman who deserves better, a woman who makes life worth…”

Living, he was going to say, but then he realizes how far he’s gone.

“Want another hit?” Nikolai yells. “Get. The fuck. Out.”

Rafael looks coldly at me. “All of this for you,” he mutters. “You must be one interesting lady.” He raises his voice. “Gentlemen, the night is over. But I’m sure we’ll be seeing Mr. Volkov very, very soon.”

I feel frozen as the men file out. Everything happened so fast. It feels surreal.

“Everybody stay here,” Nikolai calls loudly to the staff, then he lowers his voice just for me. He touches my arm. “Go to my office. Don’t argue with me.”

I walk there on Jell-O legs, still struggling to believe it. Nikolai just slapped a gang leader with an army of men. And more unbelievably, they just left. Because he invoked the Bratva. What even is that? I google it, and my breath catches. I knew this anyway, on some hazy level. But there’s nothing hazy about this now.

The Bratva is the Russian mafia. That’s why Rafael left. Nikolai scared him into thinking an open attack was unwise.

Through the one-way glass, I see Nikolai and Anton talking, then they leave. I breathe slowly, then take out the burner. There was something… the hotel, the keycard. I need to text that before I forget it.