Mafia Sins: The Mafia Romance Collection Read online

  “Are you hungry?” Rurik asks as the plane begins to move.

  “No,” I reply. How could I eat at a time like this?

  “If you do become hungry in the future, then I can get something for you,” he says.

  I jump to my feet. “I have to pee,” I blurt. My brain has been racing ever since I left my home, but now it’s going into overdrive. I’m grasping at any chance that I have to make it out of here without being sold to some creep in another country.

  Rurik’s hand clamps around my wrist like an iron cuff, yanking me back hard into my seat. My breath is nearly knocked out of my lungs as my back slams against the back of the seat. I let out a little yelp of shock at Rurik’s sudden action.

  “Sit down,” he barks, his voice so harsh and loud that it invokes a feeling of dread deep in the pit of my stomach.

  “I just wanted to use the toilet,” I say, my voice shrinking into a whisper under his brutal gaze.

  “You must stay seated until the plane is in the air,” he says gruffly, his thick eyebrows titling in between his eyes.

  “Can I go after that?” I ask with all the breath that’s left in my lungs.

  “Yes,” he answers, his eyes laser-focused on me. His hand is still firmly on my wrist, holding me in place. “I don’t want any trouble from you, Violet.”

  “My name is Samantha,” I reply. Even though Rurik scares me, I’m not going to let him call me by a fake name. It’s insulting.

  “Shut your mouth,” he snaps, “And put your seatbelt on.” He releases my wrist from his death grip.

  I yank my hand up to my chest, rubbing it to bring back circulation to my hand. My wrist is white from where his fingers clenched into the skin, and I can even see the outline of each finger in my flesh. Rurik is a lot rougher with me than he needs to be. What’s a small woman like me going to do on a plane with two guards armed to the teeth?

  I grab my seatbelt and buckle it over my lap, leaving it loose enough so that I could slip out if I need to. The thought of being stuck to the chair beside Rurik isn’t a comfortable one. I don’t know what he’s going to do during the flight.

  I don’t have much control over my fate right now, but the illusion of control is enough to keep me from freaking out and having a panic attack.

  Rurik reaches over into my lap and grabs the end of the seatbelt hanging from the clasp, holding it tight in his large hand. He tugs it, tightening the belt over my lap until I can barely get a thumb between my hips and the stiff blue belt.

  “Jesus, is that really necessary?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to piss myself. Fucking hell,” I say, trying to loosen the belt.

  “Leave it alone,” he says, raising his voice again.

  I groan and drop my hands to my sides.

  “You really are a rambunctious young woman,” he says, shaking his head.

  “I think any woman would be if they were kidnapped,” I reply, speaking the last words loudly and looking toward the guards to see if they would react. I get nothing from them. Their faces look like they’re carved from wood.

  Rurik smiles, his teeth dazzling white against his olive skin. “You’re cute when you’re upset, but soon you will learn how to live life on different terms. Honestly, it was never my intention for it to come to this.”

  I cross my arms and shoot him a poisonous look. I don’t know what he’s talking about, but I don’t want to ask. Every time he says something, it just makes me more worried and confused. I fall silent, gritting my teeth together as I feel the plane leave the ground.

  Rurik leans back in his seat and closes his eyes, looking just about as relaxed as can be. There is something deeply unsettling about the way that he can so casually kidnap me and take me aboard a plane, as though he does this sort of thing every day. The whole mafia thing makes too much sense now, but why have I been chosen?

  I study Rurik as he rests in the seat beside me. Now that I’m closer to him, I can confirm that he must be very rich. It’s that, or he’s deeply in debt, which I doubt. It seems like Americans are the only people who take out loans to inflate their lifestyles. Russians aren’t the same way.

  Rurik’s suit is so black that I can barely see the stitching, even this close to him. My eyes travel down from his broad chest to his enormous hands, examining the rings that decorate his fingers. They’re all spectacular pieces, and many of them I would be envious of in different circumstances. The blue sapphire on his middle finger is especially alluring, sparkling brightly even in the dreary lighting of the airplane cabin.

  My eyes return to Rurik’s chest. It’s borderline criminal to have a chest that broad. His shoulders must be twice as wide as mine are. I can see a black embroidered S on the breast pocket of his suit. What is with that S? It looks like a snake. I wonder if it’s the symbol of the Mafia.

  I study the S for a moment before I move up to Rurik’s face. He has strong features and a square jaw. His nose is long and prominent. I think it looks rather royal. The hair on his head is thick and brown, and even though I can tell he’s much older than I am, he has aged gracefully.

  Rurik is handsome. Even I can admit that, but his demeanor is cruel, and he seems to treat me like I’m more of a nuisance than anything. That alone is enough to make me dislike him. Never mind the fact that he has kidnapped me.

  I almost forget that I’m still wearing the pink robe that he gave me. I pull it tightly over my breasts, trying to hide my firm nipples from the guards to either side of us. They’re staring straight ahead, and they look like they don’t care, but I’d rather not give anyone here a show. Morality clearly isn’t their strong suit.

  I hope that Rurik gives me something more conservative to wear once we get to wherever we’re going. I always hated dress codes in the private school I attended when my father was still alive. This silk robe is like a dress code, but a thousand times more degrading. I have nothing of my own here, except for my body, my mind, and the necklace that my father gave me.

  “Can I leave my seat yet?” I ask Rurik, who looks like he could be asleep.

  His eyes don’t open. “Sure, but don’t make me come in there to get you.”

  “I’ll try to be quick,” I say, keeping a tinge of sarcasm in my voice.

  Rurik doesn’t respond.

  I unbuckle my seatbelt, expanding my stomach fully as the tightness is released from my midsection. I breathe in a healthy gulp of air and stand up, looking to the guards for a reaction. I get none.

  I walk to the bathroom at the end of the cabin. I won’t be able to go anywhere, but at least I can be there in private. I can never think when I’m surrounded by people. I’m an introvert at heart, even though I do a good job of hiding it.

  Chapter Four

  I clench my eyelids shut so hard that my eyeballs begin to hurt before opening them up to stare at myself in the small mirror in front of me. I look like hell, but I wasn’t exactly getting dolled up before I was unceremoniously snatched out of my home.

  I close my eyes again, praying that when I open them, I’ll be home again. I count to five, then relax my face, looking into the mirror once again. Nope, I’m still crammed into a tiny bathroom on a private jet that belongs to the mafia.

  I sigh. The nightmare has just begun.

  I look at my eyes and see how bloodshot they are. I look like I’ve been crying, but that’s just how my face gets when I’m stressed out. I don’t do well in these conditions. They’re not normal. My face is already puffy from the change in altitude, and I don’t like the woman who is looking at me through the smudgy glass. She isn’t flattering.

  How long can I stay in the bathroom before Rurik comes to get me? I don’t want to make him angry again. He has already shown me that he’s not against getting physical if he thinks it will get me to obey him.

  I press the small button above the toilet and stand back. The small pool over water in the metal toilet bowl is sucked down with so much force that I’m certain it would have s
ucked my guts right out of my body if I had been sitting on it. I hate how loud airplane toilets are.

  I inhale deeply before I push the bathroom door open. I unlock the switch, turning it from red to green, and open the door. A yelp escapes my mouth as soon as I can see what’s outside the bathroom, waiting for me.

  “Fuck,” I say, placing my hand over my heart. “Are you trying to give me a goddamn heart attack?”

  Rurik raises an eyebrow at me but doesn’t apologize for scaring the living daylights out of me. Why the hell is he standing right in front of the door anyway? I wasn’t in there for that long.

  “The plane will be landing in two hours,” Rurik says as I step out of the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

  “And?”

  “And I would like you to eat something before we leave the plane,” he says.

  “Why?” I ask, purposefully being difficult with him.

  “Because I said so,” he replies, grabbing my arm and staring me down.

  “Ouch, alright. I get it,” I say, struggling in his tight grip. “I’ll eat your shitty plane food.”

  “Good,” he says, releasing me. “Now, go to your seat.”

  I shake my head, rubbing my arm as I sulk back to my rigid seat. Rurik turns and leaves me with the guards, moving into the front of the plane. I’m assuming he’s there to get food.

  I leave my seatbelt unbuckled because I don’t need it fastened until the plane lands. Rurik might have an issue with me being unrestrained, but I’m hoping he won’t. I won’t be comfortable eating with something constricting my stomach like that.

  I want to say something to the guards while Rurik is away, but I don’t know what I would tell them that would make a lick of difference in this awful situation. They’re on his side, not mine. I sit in silence until Rurik comes back with two foil containers of food.

  “This is my favorite,” he says, handing one of the containers to me.

  I take it from his hand. It’s hot, which I’m thankful for. There’s nothing worse than cold airline food.

  Rurik sits down beside me and peels the white cover from the container, holding it up to his face and smelling the dish. “Just like mama used to make.”

  At this point, I can’t tell if he’s trying to be funny or not. I seriously doubt anyone would appreciate airplane food like he is, but I don’t know much about Rurik. Perhaps his mother fed him bland, tasteless food his whole life.

  I open my own container and peer inside. There is an arrangement of rice, vegetables, and some meat stewed into a curry. It actually doesn’t look half bad. I pick up the plastic fork that I’ve been given along with it and stick it into the food.

  “Eat now, because we also have to drive for a few hours once we land,” Rurik says, taking a bite of his food.

  “Are we going outside of the US?” I ask, afraid of what his answer will be.

  Rurik shakes his head, then swallows his food. “California.”

  I’ve been to California before, but at the same time, I know it’s a large state. I doubt I’ll recognize the area we’re heading to. I’m assuming it’s not going to be in the middle of a major city if we really are even going to California. He could be lying to me.

  I look down at my food. I don’t want to eat it in case it’s drugged or poisoned, but my stomach is telling me to dig in. I haven’t eaten very much today, and my appetite is returning upon seeing Rurik eating. He seems to be enjoying the food.

  I lift the fork to my mouth and place the food on my tongue. My senses are immediately delighted by the taste of it. This can’t possibly be regular airplane food. It’s far too good for that.

  Rurik glances at me and smiles. “You like it,” he states, as though already knows.

  I shrug. “It’s food.”

  He chuckles. “I had my chef prepare it before the flight. He makes the best food, but it’s even better when it’s fresh.”

  “Well, my compliments to the chef then,” I say half-heartedly.

  “I will let him know you like it,” Rurik replies. “You won’t need to concern yourself with making food or doing chores any longer. You are under my protection, so you will be very comfortable.”

  “I’d be more comfortable at home,” I reply, taking another bite of the food in my lap.

  “You’d be dead if you were still at home,” he says.

  “You would kill me?” I ask, looking up at him. I find it hard to believe that a man could be so evil for no apparent reason, but some people really don’t have any empathy. Rurik could be a sociopath.

  Rurik shakes his head, holding his next bite of food up to his mouth. A drop of brown curry sauce drips onto the white rice below. “I wouldn’t have to.”

  “What then? I would just kill myself?” I ask, wrinkling my nose. Nothing he says makes sense to me.

  Rurik rolls his eyes. “No, Violet. Someone else would kill you. I told you that I would explain all of this to you later. Let me eat,” he says.

  “Violet. Who thought that name up? It’s silly,” I say.

  Rurik ignores me, taking another bite of his food, and stares forward. He appears to be done with my questions.

  I sigh and return to my food. I can be thankful that I’m still alive, but why I am, I don’t know. Rurik acts like he’s doing me a favor, but I don’t believe that for a second. All of this happening just makes me wish my father was still alive. He would have put a stop to Rurik in an instant. Nobody messed with me when he was still around.

  Rurik is odd, claiming to have known my father. Either all of this is a fantastic façade, or my father was involved in something that I was completely unaware of. I never sensed that he was, however, so my gut says this is all fake, that it’s some kind of trick to make me confused.

  I’m a logical person, and I can usually work through any issue given enough time, but Rurik has thrown me for a loop, and I hate being confused. I take another bite of my food, chewing and trying to put the puzzle pieces together in my head when I’m missing eighty percent of the picture.

  Chapter Five

  The sun is still high in the sky when we get to California. Rurik has nodded off in his seat beside me, but his eyes pop open when the plane starts descending. He looks over at me with such alertness that I would have thought he was awake the whole time.

  “What?” I ask, concerned by his wide eyes.

  He frowns. “Nothing,” he mutters, but I can tell there’s something on his mind. Was he worried that I escaped while he was sleeping? There aren’t many places I could go on a plane.

  I’ve already buckled into my seat again, with the seatbelt tight enough around my waist so that Rurik won’t pull it again. He’s far rougher with me that he needs to be. Someone ought to teach that man how to be gentle with a woman.

  “Forgive me, Violet, but you must wear something during the drive,” Rurik says, looking at me with a pitying glance.

  “You gave me this robe,” I say, pointing my hands toward my chest.

  “Not that, although it is lovely on you. I have something else,” he says, reaching into the front pocket of his slacks and pulling out a folded black cloth.

  “What is it?” I ask, leaning in to get a better look. I’m hoping it will cover my body better than this robe does.

  Rurik unfolds it as the plane touches done on the runway, bouncing twice off the ground before coasting. “I want you to stay calm,” he says, looking up at me as he holds what appears to be a simple black bag with a drawstring in his hands.

  I don’t have time to react before he opens it and pulls it over my head. As the drawstring comes down on my neck, I shriek and thrash in my seat, trying to get away. My seatbelt keeps me from fleeing, but I claw at Rurik’s thick forearms, trying to get him off of me.

  “Tie her hands,” Rurik barks, sending more fear and panic through me.

  I jerk away from Rurik, but I’m unable to see what’s in front of me. The guards grab my hands as I thrash around, and I manage to kick one of them in the kn
ees. They’re built like blocks of iron, though, and my kick has no effect.

  “Gentle,” Rurik says, but I’m unsure whether it’s to the guards or me.

  I feel a cord wrapping around my wrists, binding them together tightly as I continue to struggle. The fabric over my face is thick, and not only can I not see through it, but I can also barely breathe with it on. I yell again, my voice as high and piercing as I can manage. Surely someone will hear me and come to help.

  “Oh, shut up,” Rurik says, grabbing my shoulders and pushing me back against my seat. “I don’t need you breaking everyone’s eardrums.”

  “Let me go,” I shout, squirming as much as I can with three men holding me in place.

  “We are going in a moment. You won’t have to wear this for more than a few hours,” Rurik says, as though that will calm me down.

  “I can’t breathe,” I say, my voice cracking as I feel tears coming to my eyes. I never cry, but I’m so distressed that I can’t help but to let the tears roll down my flushed cheeks. I might die like this, and nobody would know what happened to me.

  “Stop moving around, and you’ll be able to breathe better,” Rurik says, gripping my shoulders tighter.

  I relax in his hands. What else am I going to do when I’m running out of air with a bag on my head. He’s right that struggling will only make it worse. I can still suck some air through the thin holes in the fabric if I breathe slowly.

  “Good,” he says once I stop moving. “This is for your own good.”

  I doubt that very much, but I stay quiet. My hands are tied together in front of me, and the plane has come to a stop. It’s time for us to leave.

  “Let me just unbuckle you,” Rurik says.

  I can still smell his heavy cologne through the bag as he leans into my lap and unclasps the seatbelt holding me down. The pressure across my lap disappears, and I feel a gust of air as he stands up beside me.

  “You may rise,” Rurik says.

  I plant my feet firmly into the floor and push myself up from the seat, leaning forward since I don’t have help from my hands. I stand beside Rurik, awaiting his next instructions.