When He Takes: A Dark Mafia Romance (Fallen God Book 2)
When He Takes: Chapter 15

The next two weeks go by at the speed of light.

Vita comes over at nine each morning, taking care to enter the building through the discreet back entrance where there’s little chance anyone will see her. It’s doubtful the Bratva is watching the penthouse, but she and Gino don’t want to take any risks.

The Bratva can’t have any idea what we’re planning, and seeing the don’s wife coming over here every day of the week would raise questions.

Vita walks me through everything the Ferraros know about the Bratva and how it operates. She shows me pictures of the pakhan, his brigadiers, and his top-ranking vors. She gives me the biography of Maksim Garin and his wife, Ekaterina, also known as Katya. I read this last document over and over until I can practically recite it in my sleep.

Maksim and the pakhan, whose real name I discover is Yaroslav Andreyevich Sokolov, are distant relatives. Their mothers are cousins. According to the information the Ferraros were able to gather from the men they captured, there’s been a rift between the two since the pakhan started to have trouble in Boston. Some of the vors think Maksim has been stealing from the pakhan, but there’s never been any proof. The familial connection has protected Maksim so far, but one wrong move could be the end of him.

He’s looking for a way to win back the pakhan’s favor, which is why we need to make contact with him.

“He’ll quickly sense the opportunity to get valuable information from Nero, but you will have to convince him that bringing it to the pakhan is worth the risk,” Vita advises one morning while we’re having coffee in the kitchen. “His wife is well aware of their precarious situation. She will do everything she can to help her husband determine if you are the key to fixing their relationship with the pakhan.”

Near the end of the two weeks, Vita takes me out of the penthouse. First, to a three-hour private class on self-defense, and then to a private shopping appointment at a boutique in Manhattan.

Apparently, this mission requires a whole new wardrobe, which feels wasteful given Nero just bought me one.

I start to protest when I see the price tags in the airy, exclusive store that’s been closed just for us. “This is too much.”

Vita waves me off. “Think of it as a mandatory uniform.”

I take a deep breath and try to figure out how the hell I ended up here. Accepting expensive clothes from a woman married to a mafia don. Working for her and her husband.

Even though I know why I’m doing this—to help Nero and to help myself—my stomach still churns with unease.

Your mom helped your dad steal.

I haven’t thought about Brett’s words much since he spat them in my face back at Frostbite, but now they ring in my ears like a prophecy.

I’m turning into her. I’ve spent my adult life reflecting on her choices and telling myself I’d never make those same mistakes.

Now look at me.

But this is only temporary. I just have to get through the next few weeks, and then I’ll start a new life in Australia, far away from this cruel world and the man I can’t let myself fall for again.

I only hope I don’t lose too much of my soul in the process.

On our last day of preparations, the morning of the big charity gala where Nero and I are supposed to make contact with Maksim, Vita takes me to a small shooting range owned by the Ferraros. The air inside is thick with the smell of gunpowder. There’s no one here but us.

My heart pounds as I take the gun Vita passes me, the cold metal feeling foreign and heavy in my grip. My hands tremble slightly as I point the gun at the outline of a man on the target.

“Steady,” Vita murmurs. “Take a deep breath. You can do this,” she says before she places the earmuffs over my ears, muting the world into a dull throb around me.

A drop of sweat trickles down my spine.

This seems pointless. If that were a real person in front of me, I’d never shoot them. That’s where I’d draw the line.

But in this world of shadows and secrets, I have to be prepared for anything.

I take a deep breath, trying to quiet the chaos inside me and focus on the target.

My finger pulls on the trigger, and the gun recoils. A small hole appears in the outline’s chest.

I lower the gun, my heart racing, and look at Vita. She nods approvingly, her eyes holding a mixture of pride and something else—something like understanding.

“You’re doing great,” she assures me, placing her hand on my arm. “The gun will go home with you.”

“I don’t want it,” I protest.

But she’s undeterred. “This is just a precaution. The goal is diplomacy, not violence.”

That afternoon, I spend a long time getting ready. Two hours before Nero and I are meant to leave, I’m already standing in my walk-in closet, trying to pick what to wear.

On the left side are the clothes Nero bought for me. They’re beautiful, high quality, and fit my style. They’re far nicer than anything I’ve ever owned before, but at the same time, they fit my character. It’s like he purposefully instructed whoever did the shopping to not go over the top so that I wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

But Vita obviously had a different agenda when she shopped for me.

Rubbing the heel of my palm against my forehead, I walk over to the right side and carefully take out one of the designer dresses she selected.

It’s an extravagant midnight-blue evening gown embroidered with silver and gold beads that shimmer against the light. It takes me a moment to realize they’re meant to resemble the night sky, with the moon outlined on the right side of the bodice.

The process of putting it on is nerve-wracking. I’m worried I’ll tear something as I slide it carefully over my hips. When it’s finally on, I move to stand in front of the mirror.

There’s an impostor staring back at me.

I’m a girl who grew up in a trailer park, but I’m wearing a dress worthy of a princess.

My leg peeks out from the slit that goes all the way to the top of my right thigh. The low V-cut does nothing to hide the flush creeping up my chest, or the way my throat bobs on a nervous swallow.

I drag my fingertips over the beads, skimming over the stars until I reach the crescent moon.

The dress is gorgeous. A work of art.

And I look like I want to bolt out of it.

Vita’s instructions come back to me. Straighten your back. Tip your chin up. Keep your thoughts in your head and off your face.

The red lipstick helps. As does the heavy makeup. It feels like armor. A mask I can hide behind.

I reach for the diamond stud earrings Vita gave me and pop them into my ears.

Just as I clasp the sapphire pendant necklace behind my neck, the front door opens with a distant clang.

Nero’s voice filters through the walls. “Blake?”

“I need a few minutes!”

“I’m going to go change,” he calls back. “Meet you in the living room.”

Meeting Maksim isn’t the only thing I’m nervous about tonight. Nero and I haven’t had much privacy since our preparations started. Vita’s been here nearly every evening when he’s gotten home. She’s helped us rehearse our story and prepare, and by the time we’re done, both Nero and I have been too exhausted to say more than a few words to one another.

The kiss in the kitchen feels like something out of a hazy dream.

The fact that it hasn’t happened again makes me feel like we’ve made it back onto steadier ground with each other.

As friends.

But tonight, I’m not supposed to act like his friend. I’m supposed to act like his wife.

I drag a brush over my straightened hair a few more times and slip my feet into a pair of high-heeled shoes with a pointed toe.

It’s time.

When I walk into the kitchen, Nero’s already there, one hand wrapped around a glass of water, the other holding his phone.

I stop dead in my tracks.

He’s dressed in a black tuxedo that clings to him as if it’s been tailored to every muscle and contour of his body. His hair is swept back from his face, and his beard is perfectly trimmed, highlighting his strong jaw. There’s a watch glinting on his left wrist and hints of black ink swirl from under his crisp white cuffs.

The effect is devastating.

I manage to force two word past my dry throat. “I’m ready.”

He looks up from his phone, and when his eyes land on me, they widen.

The glass slips out of his hand.

CRASH.

I suck in a harsh breath, but he doesn’t even flinch. There’s a dark, hungry storm inside his eyes as he takes a step forward, the broken glass crunching beneath his leather shoes.

My pulse picks up speed. He prowls toward me—slowly, purposefully—like he wants to give me time to prepare myself for what comes next.

Kiss me.

What? No. That’s not what I want.

But the closer he gets, the less I can avoid looking at his lips.

He stops a half step away, close enough for his scent to hit me with full force. Pine, leather, smoke. “You look like a dream.”

My heart’s ignoring my head, and it’s now doing strange pirouettes inside my chest.

He lifts his hand and curls it around my neck, threading his fingers through my hair.

“What are you doing?” I whisper, feeling drunk even though I haven’t had a single sip of alcohol all day.

I should tell him to stop touching me, but the words die on my tongue when his thumb gently strokes the side of my neck.

A flutter appears in the pit of my belly before it moves lower.

“I got you something,” he murmurs, his breath coasting over my face.

His hand remains on my nape as he retrieves a small black velvet box from his pocket. With a flick of his thumb, he opens it and holds it up for me to see.

A wedding ring.

And what a ring.

Baguette diamonds set seamlessly side by side in a gleaming gold setting. They form a continuous sparkling band that dances with light.

“What do you think?”

It might be the most exquisite ring I’ve ever seen. It’s extravagant. Impossible to ignore.

And I fucking love it.

I love it so much.

“You don’t like it.”

My gaze lifts to Nero’s face. I must have been staring in mute shock at the ring for long enough to make him worried.

Uncertainty and a tinge of vulnerability dance inside his eyes, and for a moment, I almost give in to the urge to kiss him before I remember that I can’t.

I can’t.

So instead, I force myself to speak. “How could I not like it? It’s beautiful.”

His lips quirk up. He removes his hand from my nape, drags it down my arm, and picks up my left hand. The ring he put on me inside that Vegas chapel comes right off, and then he slowly slides on the stunning new band.

It’s a perfect fit.

“What if someone steals it?” I whisper.

Nero huffs a low laugh. “That’s not going to happen. No one’s that suicidal.” He lifts my hand and presses his lips against my knuckles, making me lose my ability to breathe.

God.

How can he still have this much power over me? And why does it feel like it only grows with each passing day?

I have to pull it together. I can’t be weak.

He glances at me from under his brows, his eyes piercing through me. “Shall we, my darling?”