The Director
Renee Rose
Copyright © October 2020 The Director by Renee Rose and Renee Rose Romance
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this book ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from the authors. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors' rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Published in the United States of America
Walrosse Dream Ventures LLC
This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book contains descriptions of many BDSM and sexual practices, but this is a work of fiction and, as such, should not be used in any way as a guide. The author and publisher will not be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained within. In other words, don’t try this at home, folks!
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Contents
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Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
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Author’s Note
Dear Readers: Thank you so much for picking up the first book in my new bratva series. If you’ve been reading me for a while, you know abduction / seduction is my favorite trope. When I started writing this one, I realized, of course, mixing it with the secret baby trope was rather tricky! I can’t stress a pregnant heroine, and yet I love my heroines a little stressed.
Just a reminder that this is fiction and fantasy. Not everything Ravil and Lucy do in the story may be medically advised. If you’re pregnant or plan to become pregnant, please play responsibly. :-)
Chapter 1
Lucy
It might be time to stop wearing heels. Or choose the lower ones.
Fresh from another courtroom win, I step into the crowded elevator. I hide my wince, courtesy of swollen feet stuffed in my boss-bitch stilettos—the ones I use to assert my seniority, stature, and overall dominance in the courtroom and, more importantly, within my father’s firm.
I nearly wince again when I see Jeffrey’s on this ride.
He glances at my swollen belly then meets my gaze with a torment of conflict behind his grey eyes.
It’s not his.
We broke up six months before I had the very out-of-character sexcapade in DC that resulted in my changed state.
“Lucy,” he says. It’s a statement, not an opening. An acknowledgment of the eight years we wasted together.
I bite back a sigh. “Jeffrey.”
Thankfully, there are four other people in the elevator, so I snap into position beside him to stare at the doors as the elevator moves upward.
“How’s your dad?”
Oh, jeez. Were we really going to do this?
“Same.” I make the required glance his way.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yes. Well, it is what it is.”
I face unfriendly counsel daily—in my firm and opposite me in the courtroom. I can handle another elevator ride with my ex. But the mixture of pity and remorse in Jeffrey’s stare makes my Lafayette 148 New York blazer—the one with a straining button above my belly—suddenly unbearably tight and hot.
But, then, I imagine wearing any blazer in July while pregnant would be unbearable.
Still, I wish he’d work through his emotional crap and stop making my growing belly the source of some internal conflict. I assume he wonders what it would be like if it were his. Or maybe he feels guilty that I’m doing this baby thing on my own because he would never commit.
The fact is, I’ve gone on without him.
End of story.
The elevator stops on the floor of his architecture firm, but he hesitates, shifting his arm in front of the sensors, but not getting out. “We’re going to get drinks at The Rocket tonight if you want to join us,” he says then grimaces, probably realizing drinks are out for me considering the tiny life growing inside me.
“Another time,” I say in that disinterested tone of voice that’s supposed to convey never but falls a little short. I might have mixed feelings about Jeffrey, too.
Or maybe I’m just terrified I can’t do this alone.
I hold my head up, keeping my courtroom stance until the doors shut. Then it gets easier to maintain when the doors open on my floor, and I affect my confident stride to the shared secretary’s desk.
“First appointment?” I usually know my schedule without being told. I’m the type of person with the proverbial mind like a steel trap, but the hormones are messing with my memory, too. I feel muddled. Soft around the edges.
And I hate how vulnerable and out of control that makes me feel.
“The first appointment is with Adrian Turgenev, the young man charged with arson of the sofa factory on 11th,” Lacey, the secretary, tells me.
Right. Russian mafiya, or bratva, as they call it. The client was referred by Paolo Tacone, one of my Italian crime family clients.
Funny, are the Russians and Italians in bed together now? It doesn’t matter. It’s not my job to know the real details of their business.
It’s just my job to defend them with the facts collected by law enforcement.
I have to admit the slight foreboding tickling the back of my neck at getting involved with the Russians.
