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This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
SOLD TO THE MOB BOSS
First edition. July 19, 2019.
Copyright © 2019 Nicole Fox.
Written by Nicole Fox.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also by Nicole Fox
Sold to the Mob Boss: A Russian Bratva Romance
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sneak Preview of STOLEN BY THE MOB BOSS: A Mafia Romance
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About the Author
Also by Nicole Fox
Stolen by the Mob Boss
Trapped with the Mob Boss
Vin: A Mafia Romance
Sold to the Mob Boss: A Russian Bratva Romance
By Nicole Fox
An innocent girl like her... sold to a beast like me.
Nikita
As the boss of the Bratva, I live my life by a code: Always stay in control.
But I broke my own rule on the night I bought Annie.
She was so delicate and desperate up on that stage.
I’d pay any price it took to own her.
She says she can’t be bought.
But she doesn’t know how this game is played.
In my world, everything has its price.
And like it or not, she’s mine now – my property, my possession.
I’ll claim her. I’ll break her. And I’ll protect her until the end...
Even if it costs me everything.
Chapter One
Nikita
The nights are always the same.
The thump of the bass from the DJ’s music rattles the walls, even in the back of the club, much to my annoyance. But a club is the best way to do business. Or a butcher shop, for the old-school types. But the stench of uncooked meat and blood makes my stomach sour. I’d much prefer to be surrounded by scantily clad woman than lamb ribs and pork chops.
“Boss, we got a situation,” one of the bouncers says, standing in the doorway.
With a low growl that rumbles from deep within my chest, I stand up from my desk and make my way to the main room. The blue neon lights, the thumping of the newest pop hit, and half naked girls who can barely hold their drinks crowd the room. When one of the drunken girls invades my space, I use my forearm to guide her away. These reckless college girls are not to my liking. Not in the slightest.
The bouncer leads me over to the bar where the lead bartender, Krissy, is mouthing off to a customer. My gaze travels to the man on the other side of the counter. Blood covers his face and broken glass is scattered over the top of the bar and on the man’s shirt.
I groan and walk up to Krissy. “What happened?”
With flailing hands, Krissy glares right at the guy and answers, “Motherfucker felt it appropriate to grab my tits. So, I reciprocated.”
“By cracking a bottle over his head?”
Krissy turns and meets my gaze, but doesn’t shrink or falter. She’s tough. It’s one of the reasons I hired her. The other being that she’s my cousin. Family protects family.
“You bitch. I’m going to sue you and this club,” the bloody man spits, his face mottled crimson, his eyes popped, his tree-trunk neck strained. His words are spat out with the ferocity and rapidity of machine-gun fire.
Without wiping the spit from her face, Krissy leans closer, perfectly composed, and speaks her next words just millimeters from the man’s face. “See if I give a fuck.”
The man explodes with unrestrained fury. But Krissy doesn’t care to stick around and watch him melt down. With a barely concealed smirk, she turns on her heel and walks away. My mess to deal with, now.
Always start with diplomacy.
“Sir, I think it’s time for you to leave. Don’t worry about the bill; your drinks are on the house.” I hate giving away free shit, but it’s better than being sued.
“You think free drinks are gonna stop me from suing this place?” the man staggers a bit.
I straighten my spine, my lips pressing tightly together. I can’t stand dealing with drunken idiots. If he wants to be difficult, fine. I can deal with that just as easily.
When diplomacy fails, move next to the veiled threat.
“I can always call the police, check the cameras, and then you could be going to jail for sexual assault. Choice is yours, but choose quickly.”
The man’s face turns crimson once again, but no words come out of his mouth. Instead, his friends drag him out of the bar after giving me a nod of understanding.
The fool doesn’t realize how lucky he is to have friends like that. Because I wouldn’t have been calling the cops. No. Left to my own devices, the man would’ve disappeared, for good. No one messes with my business or my family. Hell, I would’ve had him killed if Krissy had come to me first. But of course she insisted on handling it herself. A smirk lights up my face. The Lavrin blood runs strong in her veins.
“Clean up the bar. I’m heading back into the office. And make sure Krissy doesn’t get herself in any more trouble for the night,” I say to the other bartender, before turning and walking back down the hallway.
Back in the sanctuary of the office, I make myself a glass of gin, just like my father used to do.
I’ve had so many thoughts of my father tonight. Very unlike me to be so sentimental. But murdered men have a way of remaining in the hearts and minds of their sons.
It’s hard to forget my father when his presence is everywhere around me. The desk, the art, the chair I’m in—all of it was once his. I claimed this office after his death, just as I claimed his position at the head of the Lavrin family.
Right after I ended the life of every Scuderi motherfucker who took my father from me.
Our enemies, the Scuderis, spilled my father’s blood, so I spilled theirs ten times over. Scorched earth. No survivors.
But
