Used by the Russian Mafia Boss: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (27 page)

Sergei muttered something ugly in Russian and then stormed out of the office. He shoved past Ivan and barked a comment to Olga about fetching his jacket. When he had finally gone, Ivan smiled lazily at Yuri and folded his hands in front of him to await the comment that was obviously hovering on the edge of the boss’s lips.

“Ivan,” Yuri began with an indulgent yet reproachful smile. “You cannot keep baiting him like this.”

“Pardon?” Ivan frowned. “My very existence on this planet pisses him off. Sergei Volkov has felt himself above me since I joined the organization. What am I supposed to do? Grovel at his feet until he can grow a set of balls and stop whining like a baby?”

“Ivan,” Yuri’s tone took on a warning note. “You need to be respectful. Sergei might think a little too much of himself, but he’s a hereditary made man. He is a member of our organization in good standing. That earns him respect no matter how weirdly possessive he is about his sister.”

“About his sister,” Ivan scoffed. “If I were the exact same man I am now, but I was
your
son, he would be throwing his sister at me. His hatred of me has nothing to do with his sister’s health or welfare. It’s because he feels himself above me.”

“Regardless,” Yuri said with a wave of his hand. “You will stop antagonizing him, or you will have me to answer to.”

Ivan’s very existence on the earth was defined by antagonizing Sergei. If Yuri put a moratorium on the activity, Ivan’s plan would be against Yuri’s express orders.

“But Yuri, he’s insufferable. Surely you can see that,” Ivan pleaded. “Do not tell me that I must bow and scrape to that man.”

“He is a made man within this organization.” The force of authority in Yuri’s voice didn’t stifle Ivan’s feelings on the subject. If anything, it inflamed them. Yuri pointed at Ivan. “You will respect him because of his rank. Otherwise, you need not be a part of our organization.”

“But I’m twice the earner that he is,” Ivan argued. “Why not give me his position? It isn’t as though he needs it to run his real-estate business. The man does well on the legal side of things and cannot operate his illegal holdings for shit.”

“Enough!” Yuri curled his lip at Ivan. “Sergei might not have as lucrative a drug trade as you do, but he is still ranked higher than you ever will be. We do not promote street dealers to the level of made man simply because they know how to push their product. That is your job, Ivan. Appreciate that you have that position and be satisfied with the important place you occupy within the organization. Anything more would be an exercise in futility.”

Ivan stared at Yuri’s wizened narrow face for the span of several moments before giving his boss a slow nod. “I can see that I’ve irritated you, sir,” Ivan said in Russian. “I meant no offense. Please allow me to leave you to your work unless you needed me for another purpose.”

“No.” Yuri imperiously waved his hand. “That was my purpose in calling you down here.”

Ivan ducked his head respectfully. “Thank you, sir.”

Yuri didn’t even look up when Ivan took his leave. Anger made every muscle in Ivan’s arms stand out in stark relief. He didn’t speak to Olga on his way out. He was far too angry to speak to anyone.

Chapter Nine

Ivan barely made it home without blowing up. He pounded the steering wheel a few times, cursed in every language he knew, and tried to imagine why Yuri would say such a thing to him. Was Yuri part of the same school of thought as Sergei? Why did these men put themselves so far above Ivan’s humble beginnings? Yes, Ivan was a bastard. He was an orphan. But Yuri Gregorevich had begun life in a Moscow slum. Did he really have room to talk?

His parking job was abominably crooked. He didn’t care. Ivan slammed the car door and stalked across the garage toward the elevator. By the time he reached it, he barely noticed that he was sharing it. At least not until he caught the familiar scent of vanilla and spice.

“I’m not even going to ask,” Emily murmured, stepping to the opposite side of the elevator.

Ivan started to mutter something rude, and then thought better of it. “Why does it matter so much who a man’s father was?” he demanded. “Can you answer me this question? Because I have been fighting this battle my whole life and I still have no answers.”

Emily’s eyes went wide, her face settling into a careful mask as she obviously sifted through her brain for the right answer.

“I’m not going to throttle you for telling me something I don’t want to hear.” He managed to calm his voice enough that he was no longer growling at her like a beast with a thorn in its paw.

“I suppose you might look at it from the perspective that the organization is all based on heredity,” Emily began in a philosophical manner. “These men have always worked with each other. They have raised their offspring in this tradition. Their trust is dependent upon this bond.” She gave a delicate shrug of one shoulder. “It doesn’t mean that men born to other families aren’t capable of being worthy of the same level of trust. It just means the men in the organization aren’t in the habit of taking chances.”

“Well that nonsense breeds stupidity,” Ivan grunted. He folded his arms, feeling disgusted.

Emily stared at the lighted indicator that told him they were currently passing the fourteenth floor. Finally the doors opened. Emily raised an eyebrow at him.

“I was born here in the US,” Ivan told her suddenly.

She looked at him in surprise. “You speak Russian like a native.”

“My mother was a Russian immigrant.” He headed out of the elevator slowly, trying to recall as much detail as possible. “She died when I was seven, but I had already learned to speak Russian before English. Her English was terrible.”

“And your father?”

“I have no idea,” he admitted.

Emily cocked her head to one side. “And that is why you hate my brother? Because he knows who his father is, was claimed by him, and gained his current position simply because he was following in Papa’s footsteps?”

“No,” he argued. “I hate your brother because he thinks all of that makes him better than me.”

Ivan turned and walked away from her. He knew it was childish, but he needed a moment to collect himself. He rarely talked about his past like this. It made him feel insecure and that pissed him off.

But Emily would not be put off. She trotted along behind him. “Did my brother tell you this makes him better than you?”

“Isn’t that why he cannot stand the idea of you and I being together?” Ivan asked, surprised she would not immediately recall that fact.

“I think that’s more about nobody being good enough for a Volkov. That is his pride, yes, but it has little to do with your origins, I think.”

“You think?” he asked incredulously. “How can you believe otherwise? Look at everything he has said, and his behavior? Surely you can see the truth of what I’m saying?”

They were standing in the hallway outside his office. Her expression was troubled. Could she truly not know this basic fact about her own brother? He saw her shift her hold on the bag slung over her shoulder.

“Enough about this.” He sliced his hand through the air, feeling almost savagely irritated. “Let me show you the list of tasks you need to finish today.”

“Does this list include cleaning your bathrooms and fetching coffee?” she muttered. “Because that’s pretty much the only thing there is to do around here.”

“I can probably find some toilet brushes for you to use,” he began sarcastically. “Unless you’d like to drop the attitude and actually accomplish some real work.”

***

Emily could not get a handle on Ivan’s moods. He swung wildly from one extreme to another with almost no warning. It was only ten fifteen in the morning, but she could swear the man had been drinking. At least that would account for all the maudlin talk and then an immediate swing to anger and sarcasm.

She sighed. “Ivan. I’ve looked at your books. You don’t need an assistant. Whoever has been taking care of that job is doing it very well. Things are caught up, and they’re clearly laid out. No manager could ever want better.”

“I’ve been doing them myself,” he growled. “I don’t have time for that shit anymore.”

“Whoa.” She raised her brows, impressed as hell. “You’ve been keeping your own books?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped. “I’m not an idiot. I can handle crunching some numbers and writing things down.”

“I wasn’t trying to say that you couldn’t.” Emily almost rolled her eyes. She was so tired of having to soothe his ruffled feathers when she had actually been trying to be nice to him. “I was saying that most businessmen have a tough time doing those things and therefore hire people like me to get it done. You’re a very unique man. It was a compliment. Can you just accept it?”

He looked so surprised that for a moment he didn’t appear pissed off. Then he frowned even harder. Emily grunted. It was a disgusting noise, but she felt disgusted at the moment.

He gestured to his office. “Let’s talk about your tasks.”

“Fine.”

The way he glanced at her suggested he wasn’t so thrilled with the rude tone of her voice, but she was past caring at the moment. She walked right into his office and took a seat in the executive chair before his desk. Since there was only one chair like it in the well-appointed office, it was obviously his. Emily didn’t care. He was the one who decided to play at having an assistant.

Ivan settled for looming over her in lieu of sitting down. “See this list?” He pointed to a piece of paper with handwritten addresses on it. “These are my arcades.”

“All right?”

“So each business is set up like an umbrella. Both legal and illegal income wind up in the same pot. They’re just labeled differently.” He showed her an entry on the computer screen. “See how it works?”

“Yes,” she mused. “It’s actually quite brilliant.”

There was a pause. She refused to look up at him, but she could feel the heat of his gaze staring down at her. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She tried to keep her mouth shut, but couldn’t manage it. “See? It wasn’t that hard to be polite.”

“Do I actually go out and collect the payments?” She looked at the screen. It was obvious that cash drops were made almost daily.

“No. Jacob will bring them to you. Then you count them and make the deposit.” He seemed relieved. “That takes me forever. It’s a huge waste of my time.”

“I can see why.” She began scrolling through the files on-screen and matching them to the handwritten list. “There are at least thirty arcades here.”

“Arcades are surprisingly lucrative.” He seemed defensive.

“I can see why they would be.” She smiled at him. “And they’re also good locations for dealers.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m not going to give you my standard speech about the horrible effects of pushing drugs to kids. I think you probably already know.” Not that it made her feel any better. It was one reason why she wished Sergei
would
just drop the drug trade and go legit.

“If I didn’t do it, someone else would,” Ivan reasoned. “The ones who want it are going to get it somewhere. Why can’t I make a buck off of their stupidity?”

“I don’t know,” Emily said wearily. “Because as a society, we have a responsibility to try and lessen stupidity?”

He smiled suddenly, his expression almost soft. “You always were an idealist.”

“What does
that
mean?” She sat back in the chair, staring up at him and wondering why he would say that. “I tend to think of myself as a realist, not an idealist.”

“You always believe the best of people, Emily.” He folded his arms over his chest, giving her the idea that he considered that a flaw of sorts.

“Meaning that I should try to believe the worst of everyone?” She was getting tired of all the double-talk. “Like I should believe that my brother is a classist prick. And I should believe that you’re just sleeping with me because you know it will
really
piss him off. Is that what you’re referring to?”

He muttered quite a list of Russian curse words beneath his breath before he seemed to regain control of himself. “Look. You told me just to shut up and take a compliment a minute ago. So now I’ll ask you to do the same.”

With those words, he turned on his heel and started to leave the room. Emily felt a moment’s panic. “Where are you going?”

“Out. I have a meeting and then I need to check with my supplier about the next shipment and a few other things as well.” His gaze got a little shifty, but maybe that was to be expected when his work was—by nature—shady.

“Um, okay.” She glanced back at the computer. “I guess I’ll just…see you around then.”

Ivan didn’t even speak another word. He just left.

Chapter Ten

Ivan met Samantha for lunch at their usual spot on the sidewalk of a corner deli. Considering the fact that the two of them had been coming to this place since middle school, they figured they were safe enough from prying eyes.

“I’m a little surprised that you texted me for lunch.” Samantha sat forward in her seat and braced her forearms on the table. “We just had breakfast a few hours ago.”

“You know what I said about Yuri?”

“About being loyal to him?” Samantha obviously wanted clarification. “You said you weren’t interested in my people helping you take his job.”

“Yeah? Well I was wrong.” The words came out sharper than he had intended, and they were accompanied by a sick feeling. Ivan didn’t like the idea of supplanting Yuri. “Look,” Ivan said, searching for an explanation, “I owe Yuri a lot. He took a chance on me when a lot of other men wouldn’t have.”

“And now?” Samantha picked up a paper napkin and began folding it into an accordion shape. She only did that when she was anxious.

Ivan studied her face for a moment, wondering what had her feeling so jumpy. “What’s wrong?”

“The agent in charge of the organized crime division has given the green light on a plan to take Yuri down,” Samantha admitted. It was several moments before she would lift her gaze to meet his. “Obviously your help is vital. But they were going to do it with or without your cooperation.”