Wicked Boss E-Book

Willow Fox

• Herausgeber: Slow Burn Publishing
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

There’s a darkness surrounding him, and I should stay as far from Luka Ivanov as possible.
Three years ago, I gave birth to a baby girl after one drunken escapade with a mysterious Russian bartender, Luka.

At least I thought he was the bartender.

When I went back to tell him that I was pregnant, no one knew who he was.

I’ve moved on… what other choice did I have?

The wedding is quickly approaching, and I’m engaged to Mark, a man I don’t love. Don’t get me wrong. He’s sweet and kind, but a little too syrupy for my taste. I prefer my men darker, devious, and with a bit of bite. Mark is as vanilla as they come.

But I’ve settled because it’s what’s best for my daughter, Bay. She needs stability, and I want to give her the absolute best life that I can.

When my coworker stumbles onto a photo of my hot mistake, Madisyn confesses that she knows the Russian who knocked me up. I beg her to introduce us, but she has to swear not to tell him my secret before I do.

Wicked Boss is a standalone romance with a happily ever after. It is the second book in the Bratva Brothers series.

Leseprobe

WICKED BOSS

BRATVA BROTHERS BOOK TWO

WILLOW FOX

Wicked Boss

Bratva Brothers Book 2

Copyright © 2022 by Willow Fox

Edited by Marla VanHoy

All rights reserved.

Cover Art by MiblArt

V2

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CONTENTS

About this Book

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

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Giveaways, Free Books, and More Goodies

About the Author

Also by Willow Fox

ABOUT THIS BOOK

Wicked Boss

Bratva Brothers Book Two

There’s a darkness surrounding him, and I should stay as far from Luka Ivanov as possible.

Three years ago, I gave birth to a baby girl after one drunken escapade with a mysterious Russian bartender, Luka.

At least I thought he was the bartender.

When I went back to tell him that I was pregnant, no one knew who he was.

I’ve moved on… what other choice did I have?

The wedding is quickly approaching, and I’m engaged to Mark, a man I don’t love. Don’t get me wrong. He’s sweet and kind but a little too syrupy for my taste. I prefer my men darker, devious, and with a bit of bite. Mark is as vanilla as they come.

But I’ve settled because it’s what’s best for my daughter, Bay. She needs stability, and I want to give her the absolute best life.

When my coworker stumbles onto a photo of my hot mistake, Madisyn confesses that she knows the Russian who knocked me up. I beg her to introduce us, but she has to swear not to tell him my secret before I do.

Wicked Boss is a standalone romance with a happily ever after. It is the second book in the Bratva Brothers series.

ONE

Luka

The brunette situated across the bar stares down at her phone, scrolling through her newsfeed. Her bar stool turns as she swivels back and forth, unable to sit still.

The girl practically glows. She’s radiant and sexy in a strapless dark red dress.

I want to rip it right off her.

Is she here for a date, or is she meeting friends? A girl like her doesn’t show up alone. Not if she’s smart and wants to play it safe.

I’m not here to pick up women, although the brunette has caught my gaze. I can’t turn away from her.

I’m here with Mikhail having drinks, chilling while the night is young. The bar grows rowdy as the crowd fills in.

I watch her from a distance. I can’t tear my gaze away, but she hasn’t so much as looked up or glanced in my direction.

She’s fixated on her damn phone.

What is it with kids these days? Okay, she’s not technically a kid. She was carded upon entering the establishment, making her at least twenty-one, but she’s young. She could be twenty-five, and I’m just bad with ages. But there’s no way she’s anywhere near my age—she isn’t close to thirty, and I’m a few years shy of forty.

When did I get so fucking old?

The thought of settling down is non-existent. I’m not the kind of man to have a family. It would only endanger their lives. I don’t make romantic connections.

I enjoy my youth, or at least what’s left of it, falling into strange women’s beds to show them what it’s like to be ravished.

“Drinks?” Mikhail asks.

“On it,” I say. I know what he likes, and I head to the bar. There’s barely any room to stand, and the bartender disappears around back. Is he taking a cigarette break?

I exhale a heavy sigh. At this rate, I’ll be here all night waiting to order a whiskey.

I don’t wait around to ask permission. I step behind the counter like I own the place and grab two glasses and the finest whiskey on the top shelf.

“I’d like a Fuzzy Navel,” the brunette says. She’s a bit terse in her tone, and she finally glances up from her phone. The girl has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen.

I finish pouring Mikhail’s drink and glance her over. “You’ve been on your phone all night,” I say.

She presses her lips tight. “You’ve been watching me?” She shifts, albeit uncomfortable under my scrutiny, like I’m judging her.

I grab an empty glass and the ingredients to fill her drink request.

There’s no point in lying. I’ve already confessed to noticing that she’s been preoccupied and alone. “It’s difficult not to notice the most beautiful woman in the bar,” I say, sliding her drink across the table. “It’s on me,” I say.

I carry the drinks I poured for Mikhail and myself back to the table.

“Took you long enough,” Mikhail mutters.

“Sorry, I got distracted by that sexy brunette drinking alone.”

Mikhail doesn’t even try to be discreet as he peers past me at the girl in the scarlet gown. “She is quite the catch. Young. But you’ve always chased after tail half your age.”

“And you don’t?”

Mikhail’s no saint. “We’re not talking about me,” he says and takes a swig of his whiskey. “You want to go home with her.” It’s not a question. He already knows the answer. It’s not about what I want, though. I’m here keeping tabs on him, ensuring he has a decent time and gets home safely.

I’m not worried about him driving home sober. He’s bratva and the Pakhan, the leader of the pack. My boss and mentor. What I’m concerned with is the Italian Mafia and the Colombian Cartel. Our two biggest enemies could be closing in on us at any moment.

I have to be alert and keep Mikhail protected. I’m his bodyguard, and if I’m not with him, Nikita is keeping close tabs on him.

“Go talk to her. I’ll be fine. The place is crowded but docile.”

He means there aren’t any of our enemies drinking here tonight. I’m grateful. “If you insist,” I say and don’t wait for Mikhail to change his mind. I toss him the keys. He’ll need them to get home tonight.

I can call a cab or a rideshare service to get back to the compound. I have my cell phone in my suit coat pocket and my wallet in my pants. I’m overdressed for the bar, but I’ve removed my suit coat and slung it over my arm.

I’m not at the table with Mikhail for more than a few seconds, downing my whiskey before heading back to the bar.

The bartender is still nowhere in sight. Did he bail?

Blue eyes glances up from her phone as I head toward the bar. “I could use another one of these,” she says. Like I’m supposed to remember what she ordered.

If I were a bartender, I’m not sure that I’d have kept every customer's drink in my head. But it was just one extra to remember. And she’s unforgettable.

“A Fuzzy Navel,” I say and slip behind the bar. I make her a second glass and slide it to her before I come around to the other side. “Where’s your boyfriend?” I ask.

She brings the drink to her lips and glances me over. “You mean my friend who stood me up?” She gestures toward the couple a few feet away, making out against the wall.

“They should get a room,” I say.

She downs her drink and then moves to stand. “I should just go. Call it a night.”

“The night’s still early. It’s Friday, and what do you have planned when you get home?” I imagine she’ll climb into bed and go to sleep alone.

“A hot bubble bath if I leave now,” she says and glances at her watch. She avoids my heated stare, and her cheeks burn, the longer I make eye contact with her.

It’s difficult to hear one another over the commotion from the crowd. I lean in, my lips brushing against her ear. “And that’s what you’d rather be doing tonight?” I ask, making sure she can hear me.

I swear I feel her shudder.

Her breathing deepens, and her eyes darken as she stares into my gaze. “No,” her voice squeaks.

She gulps and licks her dry lips. A soft puff of air spills out. “Don’t you have to bartend?”

I glance toward the bar and give her an award-winning grin. “I think they’ve got it covered.”

She shifts against the stool, and I swear she’s rubbing her inner thighs together, rocking slightly, applying pressure to just the right spot.

I tangle my fingers in her hair, brushing the curls behind her neck. My touch is soft and soothing. “So, you’d rather be in a bubble bath right now than here, enjoying the music and the atmosphere?” I whisper.

“It’s not so bad,” she confesses.

A grin spreads across my face. “Good. Do you want to shoot pool? I can show you how if you've never played.”

"Sure."

"I'm Luka," I say, introducing myself.

"Hannah."

I take her hand and guide her off the stool. It's been a while since I played, but I can impress her even rusty.

I reach for the rack and set up the table. "Have you ever played?" I ask.

"Once or twice."

I grab the balls and put them into the rack, setting the game up. "Do you want to break?" I ask.

"That's when I start?" she asks curiously.

I get the feeling I'm being played. "Yes." I consider making a wager, suggesting I take her out if she wins, but I don't date. That's not who I am.

"Okay," Hannah says.

I gather the cue sticks and hand one to her. I grab the chalk and show her how to apply it to the pool cue tip before handing the chalk to her to use.

"Don't hit the eight ball in until the end. And you have to call the pocket."

"That's a lot of rules to remember." She puts her empty glass on a nearby table.

"Do you want another drink?" I ask.

"Are you trying to liqueur me up so I lose?"

I chuckle under my breath. "Never said I was a gentleman."

She bites down on her bottom lip and aims her shot, glancing back at me over her shoulder. "If I win, you buy the next round of drinks."

I can live with that wager. "You're on."

The girl is badass and a pool shark. I don't get a single shot. She knocks one ball in after another, gaining a second, a third, and fourth turn, before calling the pocket for the eight ball.

I don't like to lose, especially to a girl. "Hard to believe you've only played once or twice."

"Once or twice—a week," Hannah says, having left out that important tidbit earlier.

"What are you drinking?" I ask. I don't plan on going easy on her on the next round. She's good, but I don't lose.

"Same as earlier," she says.

I don't like leaving her alone, not even for a minute. Another man could swoop in and capture her attention. I'm quick and hurry to the bar, ordering her another Fuzzy Navel. She's across the room, and it's difficult to see her with the crowd tonight.

I'm back as quickly as I can be, and already, some dumbass is trying to vie for her affection. No chance in hell, buddy.

"You're hot," the short, blond stranger says, ogling Hannah.

My breath caresses her ear as I lean in to ensure that she can hear me, along with the idiot trying to gain her attention. "Hey, babe. Here's your drink," I say, handing it to her.

I rest my hand on her lower back possessively. She's not mine, but I intend to change that tonight.

"Thanks," she breathes a sigh of relief and sips her drink.

When the guy standing not more than a foot away doesn't seem to get the hint, she grabs me by the tie and pulls my head down toward her lips.

Her boldness surprises me, but it's refreshing even if she is doing it just to get rid of that pitiful man attempting to flirt with her.

She’s the hottest girl in the room. I’m lucky that she hasn’t told me to walk away. She is way out of my league.

Her lips cover mine, and I pull her tighter, harder, closer. I want to devour her.

My fingers pull her tight against me. She tastes like strawberries, and I'm starving.

The music blares overhead, the beat quick and fast, making it hard to concentrate with my heart pounding from her mouth latched onto mine. I want to fuck her but not here. She’s too good for the bathroom or a quick lay in an alley.

The girl wears sophistication like it's a crown, and she's queen.

Our kisses are fevered and full of passion. With every breath exchanged between us, my head fills high above the clouds like floating on air. It’s almost as if she is a drug and I’m an addict.

Hannah finally pulls back and runs a hand through her unkempt hair, breathing heavily. "Thank you."

"For the drink or for helping you ditch that fool?"

Her cheeks burn, and she smiles weakly, glancing down. Is she embarrassed about the kiss? What sane, hot-blooded male wouldn't want to kiss her?

"You're welcome," I say, not needing further explanation. "How about another round of pool?" I ask.

"Let me guess, you want to go first?"

"Seems only fair since I didn't get a turn."

Bringing the glass to her lips, she takes a swig. "Sure, you can go ahead and try to beat me."

Challenge accepted.

Hannah lifts her phone and unlocks the camera app. "Come here," she says and takes another gulp of her drink before putting it on the edge of the pool table.

I shake my head and wiggle my finger at her. "No chance." I have my reasons why I hate being in front of a camera, not that she needs to know any of them.

"What do you mean, no? Are you three?" Hannah laughs and grabs my arm. "Smile."

She lifts the phone and wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer for a photo.

I force a smile. It's not that I'm not enjoying my time with her, but I don't know who will see the photo, and I've done what I can to keep a low profile.

Hannah glances at the picture, unconvinced that she's done. "Another one," she says, and this time I give her a genuine smile if only to get her to stop with the pictures. I would never have thought she was the type who liked photographing every moment of her life.

She snaps two photographs, and then I plant my lips on hers, and she snaps one more. The world momentarily disappears around us as I pull her against me. Her body is warm and melts into my embrace.

“Do you want to get out of here?” I ask, breaking apart the kiss long enough to speak.

Hannah nods, and I take her hand, leading her out the front entrance. She pulls out her keys, her hands shaking. “I’ve never done this before.”

The look on my face must give away my surprise. Is she a virgin?

“I mean gone home with a stranger.”

I walk with her outside into the cold. Spring is just on the cusp, but it doesn’t feel warm yet. “We're not quite strangers. You know my name." She's right, though, we don't know anything else about each other. Well, I know she's good at pool, and if we ever play on teams, I want her on mine.

Hannah is flustered, and I’m the reason for her nervousness.

“We don’t have to do this,” I say, resting my hands on hers. “We can just call it a night. Enjoy the moment that we had together.”

She whimpers under her breath. “I want this. I’m just stupid nervous.”

“Stupid nervous?” I ask, the grin widening across my face. “That’s a new one.” I haven’t heard anyone use that terminology before. Then again, the members of the bratva would never admit they’re nervous, and they’re just about the only people I ever hang around with.

Hannah is a nice change of pace, even if it’s only for one night.

There's an innocence to her. A sweet perfection that once shattered can never be made whole.

When we're done, she'll never be the same.

I'll ruin her in the best possible way.

TWO

Hannah

Three Years Later…

“All this wedding planning is tiresome. You’re lucky that you’re not married,” I say. I change out of my scrubs. It’s Friday, and I should be relishing that the weekend is here, but I have to work tomorrow.

The workday is over, but I’m not ready to go home and face Mark or my toddler, Bay.

Madisyn shoots me a look. “Planning your wedding is supposed to be fun.”

“Well, it’s not. Mark doesn’t want any involvement. He’s leaving everything up to me, which is good because we’re not fighting, but I also find it stressful. Sometimes it would be nice for someone else to have an opinion about something wedding-related, other than me.”

“I can help, not that I’ve ever planned a wedding, but I’m sure I can vet your vendors for the big day,” Madisyn says.

I chuckle under my breath. “What are you going to do, run a background check on them? That sounds a bit drastic, Madisyn, even for you.”

“I meant look at their past clients and reviews for their services. Or I could just come with you,” Madisyn says. “I promise I’ll only offer advice if you need it.”

“Are you that desperate to get away from your boyfriend you just moved in with—what’s his name, again?” I ask.

“Mikhail,” she says, and her cheeks redden. “And no, I’m offering to help because I genuinely want to be there for you. You’ve been a good friend to me, and I want to return the favor.”

“That’s sweet. But if you want to be here for me, how about you tell me where you disappeared for the past two months?” I’ve been curious why she, out of the blue, was gone from work. She doesn’t appear unhealthy or grieving, but maybe she had a private client whom she tended to on the concierge’s request? No one at work knew where she’d vanished for the last several weeks.

But she kept her job and wasn't reprimanded as far as I know. I can’t help but wonder what she’d gotten herself involved with.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Madisyn says.

“Try me.” I fold my arms across my chest. If we’re friends, don’t I deserve the truth?

“I used to work for the FBI. This job was just a cover.”

She can’t be serious.

Madisyn doesn’t crack a grin, but that seems like the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. It doesn’t even make sense! “Fine, don’t tell me the truth.” I pull on my black winter boots, lacing them tight. There’s no sense in staying mad at her for more than thirty seconds. Her business is entirely hers. If she doesn’t want to tell me, I should respect her privacy.

“We should grab drinks after work. I’m dying to go dancing and have a night off. Mark is letting me have a girls’ night. So, you have to come out,” I say.

I’ve wanted a night out to unwind, and Madisyn is the perfect person to conquer the world alongside me. Plus, Bay has been waking up every night with nightmares, and I need a few hours of me-time or at least time to cut loose with my new bestie and chill.

Quickly, she changes out of her scrubs and asks me a dozen questions like am I letting him watch my daughter, Bay.

Of course, who else would be watching her? He’s going to be her father. And while he’s not super excited about diaper duty, he’s a responsible adult.

Besides, we can’t bring Bay to a bar or a nightclub.

I grab my phone from my locker. I can’t help but boast about my little girl, how much she’s grown, and how adorable she is. The kid is the one accomplishment I’m genuinely proud of, raising her and doing it on my own.

Madisyn pulls on her shoes and grabs my phone, cruising through my photos.

“You’d better not have any naked pictures on here,” she warns.

Naked pictures? Mark wouldn’t be caught dead taking off his shirt for a photo, let alone being naked. He’s got a great body, but he has more issues than a magazine subscription.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen, and no, Mark is a bit of a prude.” I’ve tried to suggest we take some naughty photos and try some toys in the bedroom, but he’s always against everything I come up with. He enjoys the same vanilla ice cream every time he gets to the ice cream shop.

I’m trying to be nice. That’s like the understatement of the century.

“That’s too bad,” Madisyn says and gasps. She drops my phone against the bench, and it hits with a thud on the ground.

I just bought that phone a month ago. I slug her on the arm. Could she be any more careless? “Madisyn! If you break my phone, you’re paying to replace it.”

Madisyn grimaces and bends down to grab the phone. Flipping it over, she examines it. “Who is this guy?”

My breath catches in my throat when she brings up the selfie of my one-night stand. Luka and I grabbed a photo together before we went back to my place.

Exhaling a nervous breath, I snatch the phone back. “Bay’s father. My hot one-night stand. I should delete that picture, but I thought Bay might want to see it one day.”

“And he’s not in Bay’s life. Why?” Madisyn asks. She doesn’t avoid the tough questions.

I run a hand through my hair. My stomach is filled with butterflies. Just talking about him, makes me nervous. There’s also anger that bubbles up under the surface because he lied to me, and I fell for it.

“The dick lied to me, said he worked at the bar. It’s not like I even know if Luka is his real name. It’s for the best,” I say, wanting to drop the subject. I’m getting married in a few short months, and Luka will always just be a distant memory of the past.

Madisyn clears her throat. “I know him, Hannah. He works with Mikhail. His name is Luka Ivanov.”

The breath is stolen from my lungs, and I slump onto the bench, needing a minute to sit. "How long?" I rasp. Sweat beads at my forehead, and I hang my head forward, trying to exhale through my mouth while my stomach churns.

She slumps down beside me, a hand on my back. "A few months. I had no idea; what do you want me to do?" Madisyn asks.

"I'm going to be sick." Tonight is supposed to be fun, a girls’ night away from the house.

"Just breathe," she says, settling me down with deep breaths. "Focus on breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth."

"It's not working." I'm trembling. My entire body is filled with a plethora of energy that I can't seem to release.

Adrenaline.

"Look at me, Hannah." Her voice is strong and steady, and while my vision wavers, she's my rock.

I glance up at her, and my breathing calms just a bit.

"Good," she says. "Now exhale."

I release a heavy sigh and run my hands through my hair. Already, I'm less spacy and more grounded.

"Do you get panic attacks often?" Madisyn asks.

"That wasn't—"

Her disapproving glare forces me to shut my mouth.

"No," I say. I wouldn't have classified it as a panic attack, but it was something that I didn't want to experience again. "Sorry about that."

"You don't need to apologize," Madisyn says. She grabs her purse and her phone. "How about we meet downstairs in ten? I want to call home and let Mikhail know that I will be late."

"Okay. Can you not mention to him about Luka?"

A wide grin splays across her face. "That's what I was going to open with. Do you mean I shouldn't?"

Gosh, she's cheeky. I purse my lips together. "I know you're joking."

"Relax. I won't say anything to Mikhail about Luka being your baby daddy."

I grimace at her use of the terminology. "Can we not do that? Please." I stand and grab my purse, shoving my phone back inside. "But eventually, I need to talk to Luka. But let's not call him my baby daddy. Okay?"

"Do you want me to invite him out tonight?" Madisyn asks.

"To girls’ night?" My voice catches in my throat. That's the worst idea. I'm not ready to see him after three years. I don't have decent clothes on or my hair and makeup done. Not that it should matter. I'm engaged, but I still want to look presentable. Okay, not that I'd tell Madisyn, but I want to look knockout gorgeous when I meet with Luka.

Madisyn heads for the door. "On second thought, I'd rather be a fly on the wall, not a spectator at the table. Things could get dicey."

My jaw drops, and I choke on her words. There is no chance that Madisyn will be joining us when I drop the news on Luka that our one little tryst ended up with an eight-pound baby girl nine months later.

"Yeah, you're not invited when I tell Luka he's Bay's father."

"Fair enough," Madisyn says, holding her hands up as a mock surrender. She doesn't sound the least bit offended, and I'm not intending to insult her, but it's not a conversation to be discussed with friends when you drop that kind of anvil on a one-night stand.

"Ten minutes?"

"Yeah," I say, and she heads out, phone in hand. I assume she's going to talk to her boyfriend.

I run a comb through my hair and add a bit of lipstick before heading downstairs. Madisyn ought to be ready by now. I glance at my phone. There are no missed calls. No texts from Mark. He's not the kind of boyfriend to check-in or text me during the day. I chalk it up to the fact that he knows I'm busy and don't have time for chit-chat.

I dial his cell phone, and it takes three rings before Mark picks up the call.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, I just wanted to say hi."

"I'm kind of busy right now," Mark says. "Bay's still at preschool. I'll swing by and get her on my way home. I didn't forget."

"Okay, thank you." I always feel like a hindrance when I call.

He ends the call without so much as a goodbye. "Yeah, I love you too," I mutter to myself. I try to be understanding. I recognize that he's swamped, that this is the busy time of year for his job.