Married to the Mafia Boss

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It was hard not to bang my head on my desk, very hard.

Who cockblocks themselves?

The feeling of her breathing against my chest, her full tits pressed into me soft as a feather pillow, was still strong. If I closed my eyes, I could see the heat in those icy eyes, the lust. I could see the challenge, do it.

I groaned to myself and threw the thoughts out. Leaving wasn’t wrong. It had been the right thing to do. She might be from a brutal family, the Petrenkos didn’t get so high up by being fucking peace-loving angels, but it didn’t mean she deserved to be dragged into the dangerous mess that was my family.

I knew everything about everybody worth knowing in this city, and how the Petrenkos preferred to conduct their business was child’s play to how we did it. They preferred persuasion, but the Sorvinos were more into coercion.

We got things done faster and more efficiently, in my opinion.

The only downside was the danger, and even though I’d never bothered curbing my desires, never resisted any tempting offer, I couldn’t bring myself to throw Katya into this mess.

I just couldn’t, and the reason for it wasn’t worth my time. I didn’t need to know why.

I settled into my office, reminding myself to regain my fucking senses back, when my door was kicked open.

“One day, that door will be locked, and your fucking toes will break,” I said without bothering to look up, sifting through the reports on my desk.

“I’ve broken my toes before, it’s nothing. I’ve got something worse for you.” He threw a file on my desk and headed straight for the minifridge in the corner. It always had beer, even though I wasn’t a fan.

“What’s this?” I asked, reaching for it. The bad news just kept on coming.

He slammed the fridge and opened the can. “Just read it, you’ll see.” Nobody in the family knew when he had the time or sense to form the habit, but Dom never drank from a can. For all his crudeness, he was particular about drinking from a cup.

Even as kids, I’d never seen him drink milk from the carton.

“ADA?” The first document in the file was headed by the name of the cargo ship that would be arriving by eight this evening. Would have been.

Surveillance pictures, and written testimonials of dock workers. We had lost the ship.

Flipping through, the frown on my face deepened. It was a shit show, and not even a funny one.

Anybody that was climbing up the ranks in New York gradually became aware of a set of unspoken rules. They never needed to be said, but everybody gradually became aware of it.

No matter how little it was, nothing given to you was free. Sooner or later, you’d have to do something to earn it. Every gift was a debt. That was a very important rule, but not the first.

Especially not in this part of the city, the dark side that only thrived when it was night.

There were plenty of rules on the dark side, but the number one rule was never to bite off more than you could chew.

Never start something you won’t be able to finish.

The. First. Fucking. Rule.

Calmly, I closed the file, I’d seen everything I needed to know. I’d just lost millions of dollars worth of goods, and the reason for that had been highlighted in red.

Maxim Triev. A new fish looking to play in the ocean.

I was going to drown him.

Standing up, I adjusted my suit, picked up the file and started out. Dom followed me with a can of beer in one hand and an almost empty glass in the other.

“Are we going to Central?” Central was Triev territory, at least a very small part of it.

“Blue Range.”

I wasn’t going there yet. I needed to understand why that bastard would attack my ship. There had to be more of this, and I wanted to know it all before I sunk five bullets in Triev’s head.

Crucially, I needed to know if there was a way to get my money back.

“Ah.” Dom poured the beer into the glass as he stepped into the elevator. “Petrenko territory.”

He probably didn’t understand why I was going there. Dom didn’t like to mix with complex things, unless it was absolutely necessary, but he didn’t ask. Maybe it was something to do with us being brothers, but I enjoyed it, the absolute confidence in my decisions.

Blue Range was a security company, a front of course for Yuri Petrenko and his dealings. It was littered with brash-looking men who knew better than to stand in the way when two of the three Sorvino brothers were walking by.

Especially when I was pissed as hell.

“Alessandro Sorvino,” Yuri said, welcoming us from behind his large desk as we entered his office. “And you too, Dom Sorvino, welcome.”

Yuri was prepared for us even though he must have received the call from my assistant less than an hour ago. Five cans of Dom’s beer were on the coffee table, a bottle of brandy, two glasses, and a small bucket of ice.

Dom didn’t even hesitate to sit and enjoy the beer.

I went straight for Yuri and tossed the file on his desk before sitting on one of the chairs right by the desk. I leaned back, crossed my legs, and gritted my teeth, waiting for him to read through the file.

A corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile, and he shut the file and pushed it. Dom opened another can of beer.

“Was there a joke in the file?” I asked, tilting my head to the side a bit.

Yuri shook his head. It didn’t help that I could see a lot of Katya in him. The eyes, although hers were a much lighter shade of blue, the shape of their jaws, their noses.

Did they both get hard-ons trying to step on my toes.

“Of course there was, isn’t Triev a rich joke.” He leaned back in his chair, wearing an amused look.

“Does anything on my face suggest that?”

Yuri regarded me coolly, and he took off that infuriating smile. “Triev has been a thorn in my side for a year now. They’re new to the city, trying to break ground and lay foundations. It was only a matter of time before they became your problem too.”

“Forty million,” I said, clasping my hands in front of me, “I just lost forty million because of a fucking building project.”

And that was not counting the connections I would have made with some of the more…discreet things on that ship.

“It doesn’t make me happy to tell you that you’ll lose more. The first bite is always the smallest one. He’s tasted and when he comes back, it’s to take a much bigger bite. Take it from me.”

I regarded him. The aged lines of his face. The crisp blonde hair.

That I hadn’t noticed the Petrenkos were having trouble with the Trievs as well was almost like a testament to how well Yuri must have handled it.

Persuasion must be doing him much good indeed, but I was a Sorvino. We preferred coercion. I leaned forward and placed my clasped hands on Yuri’s desk.

“I intend to get my money back.”

Yuri cracked another half-smile. “Naturally.”

“Plus, damages,” Dom added, opening yet another can of beer.