Nothing Burns Like You | 18+ Mafia Romance

7 Honeymoon Massage

CLARA ROSSI

Who knew that on my honeymoon, I'd go to a massage parlor? And by massage parlor, I mean a brothel.

"Alright! You kids ready for a field trip?" Volkov twisted from the passenger seat and grinned.

We were parked in the most suspicious place from a horror movie. In an empty parking lot at an eerie shopping center, with cracked concrete borders and broken windows.

A malnourished stray dog—I could count the bones sticking out of his ribcage—was licking something dead off the oil-stained asphalt.

Niko, behind the steering wheel, complained. "Aw, man. I'm being left behind again!"

Volkov smacked him across the head. "Next time don't get shot!"

I hated to admit, but all three men were ruggedly attractive. Not by traditional terms. They weren't Prince Charming material or picture-perfect models. There was something dangerous and unapologetic about them. Like the outcasts in high school that no one liked, but no one dared to mess with either.

"Oh! Uh, I don't know..." Niko sheepishly chuckled, ducking as Volkov raised his hand to strike again. "I'm just kidding!"

"Again, why the hell is she here?" Charlotte said, scowling at the bandaid on my palm. Evidence of the blood oath Volkov made me take. "Please. Rossi's sheltered daughter is going to help? She already looks like she's going to cry."

"Oh my God, I totally am. Do you have a tissue?" I stuck my bottom lip and pointed under my eye.

She peeled away as I leaned closer. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Cut it out." Volkov warned her. Those hazel eyes pinned me through the rearview mirror. "I'm talking to you too. Got it?"

Asshole. Before I could roll my eyes, he jerked the door open and stepped out.

Anxiety rattled my chest.
Maybe Charlotte was right.

But it was the first time I'd been given a chance to be included. Maybe it was a death sentence. Maybe I'd regret it. But I couldn't be a victim of my circumstances. I had to fight, even if I didn't know how.

"What the fuck are you waiting for? Get out." Charlotte hissed. "Go!"

Pungent odor attacked my nose as I followed Volkov out.

I looked down at what I was wearing. These were Charlotte's clothes. A floral, wrap skirt and tropical 'vacation' blouse. I was supposed to look like a free-spirited...princess? I had no idea.

She was in a preppy blue pleated skirt and a white button-down. Andrei was in a suit and glasses.

And Volkov was in a neon polo with the collars popped out. His dirty blond hair was gelled and parted. His tall legs were in khaki pants. And he was wearing loafers with an air of abnormal confidence.

He glanced at me over his shoulder and whistled, opening his hand...

I frowned, then realized he expected me to take it. We were supposed to act like a couple.

Begrudgingly, I obeyed.

He wrapped his long fingers around mine. His skin was calloused, and his hold was firm. As if to tell me that I was his possession and I wasn't going anywhere.

Andrei opened the parlor door, waiting Charlotte to go in first. Chivalrous. Volkov paused beside him and silently ordered me to do the same.

Inside the small reception area, an intimidating, woman surveyed us behind her desk.