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Sergei reaches to take a strand of hair that fell out of my short ponytail and hooks it behind my ear. His palm comes to cup my cheek and he tilts my head up so he can look into my eyes. An excited shudder passes through my body and I find myself leaning forward, with my gaze fixed on his lips. I wonder how it would feel, having those hard lips pressed to mine. A security guard opens the front door, bringing me back to reality.
“Let’s get this over with,” I mumble and take a reluctant step back. Sergei’s hand falls from my face.
“Sure.” He nods and heads up the steps toward the mansion door.
We enter the mansion and cross the big foyer, then turn to the left. At the very end of the long hallway, Sergei knocks on the door at the end, and we step inside. I try my best to keep my expression neutral, and my body relaxed, while in reality, I’m a bundle of nerves ready to explode.
Roman Petrov, the Bratva’s pakhan, sits casually behind the desk on the other side of the room and follows me with his eyes. He is wearing a tailored dress shirt, the same shade as his ink-black hair, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
There’s a barely visible smile on his face, and I don’t need aPakhan for Dummiesmanual to know that it’s not a good sign.
“Sergei,” he says without removing his eyes off me. “I would like to talk with our guest alone, please.”
Sergei places his hand on my upper arm. “Are you okay with that?”
Hah, like I have a choice. “Sure.” I smile.
Sergei nods, then turns to Roman and points a finger at him. “Don’t scare her,” he says and leaves, closing the door behind him.
Petrov watches me, and the wicked smile on his face grows a little wider.
“It’s good to finally meet you, Miss Sandoval,” he says. “Please, sit.”
My legs feel like they’re locked in cement as I take a few steps toward the chair opposite him and drop down onto it.
“You needed to speak with me, Mr. Petrov?” I ask.
“I need you to start talking.”
I sigh and close my eyes for a second. No one in their right mind would lie to the leader of the Russian mafia. “What do you want to know?”
“Let’s start with what the fuck were you doing stuck in the Italians’ drug shipment.”
“It was the only way to get away from Diego Rivera,” I say.
“What does Diego have to do with anything?”
“Two weeks ago, he came to our compound under the pretense of talking business with my father. They were partners for years, so it wasn’t unusual, and nobody suspected anything, even though he arrived with more men than normal. My father took him to his office. We heard the gunshots soon after.”
Petrov leans forward, surprise visible on his face. “Diego killed Manny? I thought it was the police that killed him.”
“That’s the story Diego told everyone.”
“I’m sorry about your father. We weren’t on the best of terms, but I respected him.”
“Thank you.”
“So, Diego decided to take over your father’s business, I presume.”
“Yes. And, he concluded it would be more easily accepted by my father’s men and associates if I was married to him.”
“Of course, he did. So, how did you end up on that truck?”
“Diego was sending one of the girls with the shipment as a gift,” I say, “I took her place.”
Petrov tilts his head to the side, then leans back. “Okay, let’s say I buy that story. Why did you lie when Sergei asked who you are and what happened?”
“You’re partners with Diego. If you knew who I was, and that he was probably looking for me, you would have sent me back.” I fix him with my gaze. “I would rather die than go back and marry the pig who killed my father.”
