Secret Mafia Billionaire (Paperback)

Dmitri Ivanov may be Russian Mafia, but he’s determined to repair every broken piece of me...

My battered body healed.

My heart hasn’t.

Everything my ex convinced me to hate about myself, Dmitri turns upside down.

From day one, he requires my commitment to him—including my full trust.

In return, he claims he’s giving his to me.

But the element of danger Dmitri gives off isn't just in my head.

He’s involved in things.

His past isn’t buried so deep it never re-appears.

And the thing he hates most about himself, I should run from.

It only binds me closer to him.

The person I’m changing into won’t let him discard me—even if he says it’s for my own good.

Dmitri Ivanov

There are three things I don't have time for.

Cowardly men.

Drama surrounding women.

Anyone trying to stop me from building my empire. 

If any of those things get in my way, I deal swiftly with the issue and carry on with my life, even more focused to see my plans come to fruition.

So when I see her with him, I should stay away. It's a trifecta of everything I don't tolerate. But the moment she arrives, my attention is blurred. And I can't afford any distractions.

"This is getting old. What's the bottom line?" my older brother, Maksim, asks. For months, we've expressed interest and had multiple meetings to buy the land we need for our development.

Lorenzo Rossi, the Chicago Italian mob boss's youngest son, owns it. While he claims to be a legit business owner, my three brothers and I aren't stupid enough to believe it or let our guards down. But we also aren't going to back away from what we need. He bought the land from the city for next to nothing. Anything he gets is a huge profit. Before the ground can be touched, millions will need to be spent on cleanup. He knows it. We know it. But he's greedy. He also thinks he can string us along forever.

There's a loud surge of voices. It's only four o'clock, too early for the dinner rush, which is why we set our meeting for an hour ago. We should have finished by now, but Lorenzo doesn't understand the value of time.

Silver-spoon prick.

I'm bored and frustrated with his game. My brothers are, too, but I lack patience the most. Maksim, Boris, and Sergey all can wait things out longer than I can. But even they are fed up with this cat and mouse game Lorenzo's put us through. And I'm sick of looking at him and his three thugs' faces.

I sit back in my chair and cross my arms, glancing at the commotion, trying to stop myself from flying across the table and ripping Lorenzo to shreds.

A woman dressed in a bridal gown, the man I assume she just married, and people dressed up, arrive in groups. They all head toward the elevator, except one woman.

She has long, blonde hair that hangs in curls down her back. Her blue eyes remind me of Lake Michigan on a sunny day. A black, satin cocktail dress hugs her curves, accentuating her voluptuous breasts and round ass. Red stilettos match her pouty lips and clutch.

Hello, bombshell. Come to daddy.

She's not fat, but she's not a stick, either. I could grab her anywhere and not feel bones, which is what I like in a woman.

She walks toward our table, and I check her out. At first, she doesn't see me, but then she catches me staring, and our eyes lock. She blushes and looks away.

I look at her hand. No ring. Good.

When she passes, a light floral scent lingers in the air, and I almost groan.

I turn in my chair, watching her ass jiggle and sway just right before she disappears through the heavy wooden bathroom door.

"Dmitri?" Boris asks, pulling me back into the conversation.

I raise my eyebrows in question, and his face hardens. I'm sure I'll hear about this as soon as we leave.

Sergey clears his throat. "Our deadline is thirty days. If we can't make this happen in the next few weeks, we're walking. You can find another buyer."

Lorenzo calls his bluff. "You've got a lot of money tied up into land you won't be able to do anything with if you don't get my piece."

He's got us by the balls, and I hate it. "There are a lot of things we can do with what we have. Don't get cocky," I warn him.

The conversation goes back and forth. I'm getting irritated and excuse myself. "I need another drink. Anyone else?" The restaurant doesn't officially open until five for dinner, so the waitstaff hasn't arrived yet. Since we know the owner, he let us come in early but made it clear we needed to get our drinks at the bar, which we were fine with.

Maksim nods to get another round for everyone, and I go, happy to get a breather. The bartender is handing a man a beer. He's wearing a suit, has brown hair and eyes, and a scowl on his face.

"Bernie, give me four vodkas and four whiskeys," I order.

The bartender nods and grabs glasses and the bottles.

The man takes a sip of his beer then stares at the game on the television.

"What's the score?" I ask. I don't care, but Boris places bets on all the big games.

"Don't know. I've had to deal with shit all day," the man replies. He's dressed up, and I assume he's here because of the wedding reception upstairs.

"You part of the wedding?"

He scoffs and continues staring at the screen. "If you want to call it that."

I'm not sure what it is about him, but I don't like him. It's not his scowl. I know plenty of men who have the same look. But my gut is telling me he's a douchebag.

Bernie sets everything on a tray. "Sally should be in soon to wait on you guys."

"We're good. Thanks."

I throw a hundred down, tell him to keep the change, and spin with the tray in my hand.

"Oh, sorry!" The sex kitten from earlier jumps.

I check her out again, and she blushes, redder than earlier. "Not a problem."

"Sit, Anna," the man orders, as if she's a dog.

She's with him?

Anna.

My distaste for him grows.

Her face falls. She opens then closes her mouth. She shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. "We need to go upstairs, Mitch."

"We aren't going until the game is over." He chugs several mouthfuls of his beer.

She bites her lip and quietly replies with a shaky voice, "But everyone is already there."

He spins on the barstool and, in a nasty voice, demands, "Sit your fat ass down."

She looks at the ground and blinks hard, her cheeks staining pink with embarrassment.

I put the tray of drinks down. "Don't talk to a lady that way," I growl. I shouldn't say anything. It's not my business. I don't need to get involved in this. There's a meeting going on and it should be my only focus.

Maybe it's the mix of how the meeting is going, my distaste for him, and the look on her face that makes me butt in. I usually steer clear of any domestic drama.

Anna's eyes widen.

Mitch spins and rises. "Keep your nose out of my business." He's not as tall as me or quite as built. My guess is I could take him out in one punch.

Not in front of her.

You don't need trouble. Walk away.

I lean closer to him. "My suggestion is you take your beer and move along to your party."

He steps closer. "What are you going to do about it?"

I glance at Anna. Her lip is trembling. I look back at Mitch. "I'm going to take these drinks to my brothers." I nod so he can see them. I could take him out myself, but a little intimidation never hurt. "When I finish, if you haven't escorted your woman upstairs, we'll be having a different discussion." Acknowledging she's his makes my stomach clench.

Why is she with such a loser?

I give her one last look and deliver the drinks to the table. When I turn, they step into the elevator. He has his hand roughly on her elbow. The doors shut, and I catch her fear-filled eyes.

I should follow him and rip his head off.

"Dmitri, Lorenzo seems to think we're willing to give him double what the property is worth," Boris seethes.

I groan inside. You're here to close this deal. Get your head in the game. The rest of the meeting only lasts another five minutes, but I can barely focus. All I want to do is go upstairs and learn everything there is about her. And I can't get her scared expression out of my mind.

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