Property of the Dominant Mafia Boss

Brielle Clarke, a shy and anxiety riddled twenty two year old was born into a family with a dangerous lifestyle. However, her father deems her useless to their family and decides to profit off her by selling her to an even more dangerous family. The head of the Russian Mob.

Maxim Vasiliev did not ask for a woman in his life but when his father brings Brielle as a present to him, he has no choice but to put her under his care. The ruthless and cold Maxim has no use for her but he knows she is better off with him than with his old predatory father.

When these two are forced to live under the same roof with no interest for each other, would they learn to fall in love? Or will the dark past of their respective lives get in between?

1. Family

Brielle Clarke

~•~

I sighed as I took a step outside my bedroom. It was my haven, and I didn't dare leave unless it was mealtime.

It wasn't mealtime right now.

My hand was inside the pocket of my sweatpants as I clutched my cell phone tightly. Taking a deep breath, I went down the flight of stairs after checking to make sure no one was around.

I was hoping I wouldn't run into anyone. However, as soon as my leg left the last step, I bumped right into someone.

Avery shrieked at the surprise bump and pushed me back instinctively. I fell back on the staircase, groaning at the pain that sliced through my back.

Biting my lip, I tried to hold back the tears because it hurt like a bitch. I was sure it would leave bruises. "Watch where the fuck you are going, bitch." My sister barked out, and my face flamed in embarrassment as I wondered how they could cuss out loud.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, not bothering to stand up because she would just push me right back.

"Next time, I'll put a bullet between your eyes." She regarded me with a look of disgust before she resumed her walk to wherever the fuck she was going. Only then did I stand up, ignoring the sharp pain in my back.

"Little mouse, where do you think you're going?" I heard my brother's voice when my hand reached for the door.

I turned around slowly, facing him. Axel was the oldest of us and our only brother. He was thirty but still lived in the family house because he would take over my father soon.

He was clad in a business suit, and his blonde hair was slicked back with an insane amount of gel. His blue eyes were trained on me as he waited for my answer. Why did he have to be so damn nosey?

"Uh," I cleared my throat as I prepared to lie. "I'm just going to get a cup of coffee."

"We have coffee at home." He pointed out.

"Yeah, so?"

He raised an eyebrow at my sassiness, and I immediately muttered an apology. While he didn't treat me like my sisters did, it didn't mean he liked me.

"You know everyone can tell when you're lying, right?" When I didn't say anything else, he sighed. "Go. Be back before it's dark."

"Thanks." I rushed out before stepping out of the door. I faintly heard my mother's voice saying she didn't care if I came back or not, but I decided to ignore it.

I couldn't let her ruin my day before it started. My dad had gone on a business trip, and he wanted to meet up with me first before he came home. He texted me to meet him at a bookshop, and I was more than excited to go.

As I walked down to the gate, the eyes of all the men stationed around the house followed me. I never spoke to any of them, and they didn't speak to me either. There were a lot of men around our mansion. It was nerve-wracking, and I made sure to keep leaving my room to a minimum.

It wasn't because I was a snob, but I just couldn't hold conversations with strangers. I would start panicking whenever I tried, and they respected that, not talking to be except necessary.

A man opened the gate for me, and I stepped outside. I didn't have a car as I didn't know how to drive, and I didn't trust strangers to drive me.

The bookshop also wasn't far from the street my house was in.

I strolled through the quiet street, headphones over my ear as I listened to music. I was putting on a faded baggy sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. My father wouldn't approve, but I didn't have much in my closet anyway.

As I walked down, I wondered what kind of surprise my father had for me. He was a bipolar person. Sometimes, he loathed me, and other times, he treated me like I was his baby.

I was the baby of the family. I had three older siblings. Axel, Aubrey, and Avery. For some reason, their names all started with the letter A, while I was stuck with Brielle.

It made me feel like I was not a part of the family. It made me feel excluded, especially when they all went to places without me. I couldn't blame them, though. My anxiety was hard to deal with. They were better off going to gatherings and parties without the last Clarke trailing behind them like a lost puppy.

I puffed out a breath as I finally reached the street entrance to see the busy road. I took a left, heading for an alley. I wasn't very fit, and I'd rather use a shortcut whenever possible.

As soon as I entered the alley, I felt a presence behind me, making me tense up.

Not wanting to startle whoever was behind me, I didn't run as I would see the bookshop immediately after I got out of the alley. Besides, it could just be some of my father's men following me for safety. It wasn't like I knew all of them.

I turned off my music so that I could hear well and truly; there were footsteps following behind me. I started to take deep breaths, hoping to calm myself down.

My father had enemies, and this was not the time or place to have an anxiety attack. That didn't change the fact that I was anxious, though. In contrast to my siblings, I had minimal training because my father didn't think training me would do any good or benefit our family.

Hastening my footsteps, I was just about to get out of the alley when a man came in. I stopped walking immediately and turned around to see that I was closed in. I couldn't run, but I could definitely scream for help.

As soon as I opened my mouth to scream, the man in front of me spoke. "Hey, calm down. Are you Brielle Clarke?"

I eyed him warily. "Who's asking?"

He got his answer and locked eyes with the man behind me. Before I could realize what was happening, a cloth was pressed around my nose from behind.

It didn't take long for me to breathe in the substance in the material, and soon, I was falling into a black hole of unconsciousness.

2. Kidnapped

Brielle Clarke

~•~

My head was pounding when I woke up, and I could register sitting on cold ground.

I opened my eyes to see I was in a small dark empty room. I looked down at my clothes, breathing in relief when I saw that they were intact. What did they want from me? Why was I here?

I knew they would be dangerous people, but at least I knew my father was expecting me. He would know something was wrong, and he would start looking for me.

As soon as I thought about that, I dipped my hand in all my pockets, not surprised when they came up empty. They had taken away my phone and my headphones.

I took another deep breath, willing myself not to panic. I would be safe. My father would come for me. He had a lot of men. He would save me.

I let out a surprised shriek when the door suddenly opened, and one of the men from before came inside. He had a scar on the left side of his forehead, almost touching his eye.

As he walked toward me, I crawled sideways. "Who are you?" I demanded, trying to seem brave even if I was anything but brave.

He rolled his eyes and brought out a gun. My breath hitched. "Stop moving."

I did as he ordered immediately. "Who are you?" I repeated anyway.

"That does not matter. Now, stand up."

There was a hint of accent in his voice. I knew he was Italian. His features confirmed it. I stood up slowly and realized that he was two times taller than I was. "Why did you kidnap me?"

Instead of answering me, the man walked around me, accessing my features.

"You know you are making a mistake, right? Do you know who my father is?"

My father was the don of the American mafia, and he was very dangerous. However, I had a feeling he would not be able to help me as I had gotten into the hands of the Italians. They were ruthless, even if they were not as ruthless as the Russians.

I was just hoping my threat would work.

It didn't.

The strange man laughed like I had said something funny. "I know who your father is. I did business with him."

I froze and blinked repeatedly. "B-business?"

He ignored me. "Stay still. I'll be back."

As he left, I was restless. I couldn't help but wonder what he meant by business with my father. Did my father— No! I didn't want to even think about it.

He may be very strict and harsh, but he was not wicked. He could not do that to his blood, his offspring. I could not believe it.

I looked around the room. What was I even doing sitting around here? I knew I had been kidnapped, but there was no way I could be sitting around waiting for him to come back.

There were two doors and one window, and I decided to try the door he had left from first. It refused to budge. It was locked from the outside. I tried the second door, and it led to a tiny toilet that didn't have any windows.

I gritted my teeth, feeling the tears standing in my eyes as a result of frustration. Why did I have to be caught in such a situation? What did they want with me?

Why did they have to be around the one day I decided to leave the house? I should have just stayed in.

If I had, I would have been reading a nice book at the moment, not wondering how to escape from being kidnapped.

The window was my last option. Without thinking twice, I ambled toward it. Unfortunately for me, it wasn't easy to open. I groaned, pushing with all my strength, which wasn't much if I was being honest.

"Come on," I mumbled to myself, blinking the tears away. I didn't know what they wanted from me, but I already knew it couldn't be anything good.

"What are you doing?" I shrieked, turning around in fright.

The man from earlier was standing behind me, staring at me in amusement. I began to cry. "Is it money you want? I'll give it to you. Whatever you want, I promise."

"Money." He repeated, snorting.

"My father has a lot of money. He'll give you whatever you want."

"Are you sure he's your father? And from my meeting with him, I'd say he needs money more than I do."

"W-what do you mean?"

"Considering he sold you to us for merely a hundred thousand, I'd say you're not so important to him, no?"

I shook my head fervently. "You're lying."

"Why would I lie?"

"No! I refuse to believe you." I snapped, unable to fathom that my father sold me out. Why would he sell me? Why would they buy me?

"I don't care if you believe me or not. Why do you think we knew where to find you? You're not that naive, Brielle. You already know you're of no use to him."

"And what use am I to you? Why did you buy me?"

"You'd have to ask my boss that." He grinned like anything was funny. I wasn't usually a violent person, but at the moment, I wanted to bash his head into the wall. "A lot of men would kill to have fresh meat like you. I don't know what he has decided for you, though."

"Decided?"

"There are two options; either he auctions you off, or he uses you as a sex worker. Either way, a man is going to pay to fuck you."

My breathing accelerated. Pay to— what was wrong with the men in the mafia! They wanted to take advantage of me. How did they even know I was a virgin?

"You guys are sick." I spat out.

"You were born into this family. You know how things work, so stop whining about it."

"It doesn't have to be this way," I begged, but he merely shrugged.

"I'm sorry, but it's not my decision to make. By the way, the boss is asking for you. It's time for him to decide your fate."

3. Decision made

Brielle Clarke

~•~

I stood in front of the said boss, trying my best not to shake in fear. The man from earlier had warned me that his boss was not patient. He had me clean my tears before taking me to him.

"Turn around." His Italian accent was thick and I could barely understand what he was saying but I turned around, knowing it wouldn't take long for him to take my life if I dared disobey him.

I didn't know what he was looking for but he didn't seem satisfied because he sighed.

"Face me."

I had not spoken a word since I was pushed inside this room but that did not mean I didn't have anything to say. I just knew I had to keep my words to myself to avoid death.

"Take off your clothes."

I had accepted my fate because I knew things like this happened in the mafia frequently and the fact that my father sold me out meant I had no one to come to my aid.

I wondered if my siblings knew about this. I wondered if my mom did. Would they miss me? Would they even care that I was gone?

Before I left the house, my mom had made a remark saying she didn't care if I came back or not. Her wish was being granted. I was taken forever.

"What?" The first word since coming inside his office escaped my mouth at his ridiculous demand.

"Take off your clothes, now." He repeated, a warning in his tone. "I will not ask again."

My lips quivered as I began to pull off my sweatpants. When I was left in my bra and panties, I stopped and he raised an eyebrow. I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.

"You are my property and I could very much fuck you if I please but I am not interested in virgins. Lose the underwear. You are testing my patience."

He wasn't going to have sex with me. That was a good thing but that didn't mean I wanted him to see me naked. I didn't want any man to see me naked. Being naked in front of anyone willingly would take a great deal of trust from me and my willingness to be vulnerable in front of him or her.

However, I had no choice but to take off my bra and panties.

He hummed in satisfaction when I was done and he finally rose from his seat. He was tall and broad. I looked like a twig compared to him as he stood before me. I was happy he didn't comment on my body.

Without saying anything, he cupped my breast and I automatically closed my eyes, wishing this would pass as soon as possible.

He tsked and moved his hand to my private part. A whimper escaped my mouth when he suddenly pushed one finger inside.

It hurt badly. I had never had anything up there and at the moment, I was drier than the Sahara desert. Luckily for me, his finger didn't spend much time inside me.

"You really are a virgin. You can put your clothes back on."

I hurriedly picked up my clothes and dressed up in seconds, ignoring the fact that he was watching me.

"Not many men would pay to fuck you, so I think you'd be better off sold to one at a higher price."

On one hand, I was devastated because I would be getting sold again. On the other hand, I'd never been happier to have such a disgusting body. If I didn't, it was possible that different men would be sleeping with me every day.

Only the thought was irritating enough.

I'd rather have one man force himself on me than a new man each day.

I sounded crazy but I knew there was no escaping this. My best shot was trying to escape at my new place and even that would be risking my life.

Another man was called to escort me. I tried to look for possible escape routes while at it but the numerous guards stationed everywhere told me it was impossible to run.

I wasn't taken to the room I had woken up in. I was dumped in a different room; a bigger room with more women.

I didn't ask many questions but I knew we all had the same fate.

That night, I cried myself to sleep as well as the next two nights after that.

The girls around me regarded me with looks of pity but none of them were hostile enough to scold me for being noisy as they had been in there for a longer period and had gone through what I was going through at the moment.

On my fourth night there, two new girls were brought in. From the conversation between them, I could tell they had been kidnapped as well but at least, their father didn't sell them off.

They had been coming back from the club when a van suddenly stopped beside them.

It was sad that the lives of women were in constant danger but there wasn't much we could do about it when most of the police were affiliated with the mafia.

With only a few clean ones, one wouldn't know who was good and who was bad and decided not to risk it. The mafia did not spare snitches and everyone in the city knew that.

On our fifth night, we were all brought out to be dressed up in expensive dresses and glamorous make-up. We were to be sold off and they wanted us to look our best while at it. It was sick.

We were in the supposed dressing room that they had taken us to in a van and we were being taken out one after the other.

"Number five." One of the harsh guards called out. They didn't even care about our names and we had been given numbers. I was number twenty-seven. "Number five." He repeated.

We all looked around, our eyes settling on the girl who had the number '5' around her neck. She was sobbing recklessly and her makeup was ruined. Drops of mascara stained her white dress and no matter how much she tried to keep her composure, she could not.

The guard set eyes on her and his face twisted in irritation. "You have to be fucking kidding me."

Before anyone could register it, he pulled out his gun and with a perfect aim, shot her in between the eyes.

4. The auction

Brielle Clarke

~•~

Everyone let out a scream at the unexpected shot, including me.

"Shut the fuck up." The man snapped, holding the gun pointed at us. "If I hear a sound from any of you, you're next."

The fear was palpable in the room, but we all tried to be as quiet as possible. I almost let out a whimper but I covered my mouth. No matter how bad my life was about to get, I was not looking forward to death.

Satisfied by our compliance, he breathed out. "Number six."

Number six was visibly shaking but she tried to keep a bold facade as she walked toward the guard.

As soon they left, there were whispers all over the room and my eyes drifted to the dead woman every few seconds, reminding myself that it could have been me.

I had to pull myself together. It was not the end of the world. I was only twenty-two. I wouldn't be in their shackles forever. I had a long way to go.

Besides, how bad could it be?

I cringed internally at the question. It could get very bad very quickly. I knew that.

"Twenty-six."

The woman next to me strode confidently to the exit of the room. Just like me, she had accepted her fate. She was going to make the most of it.

"Twenty-seven."

Breathing in deeply, I willed myself to forget about the main reason I was here; my family had deemed me useless to them so my dad sold me off by pretending to want to meet with him.

It was very low of him but I wasn't too surprised. I would've preferred it if he just married me off to one of these other mafia families.

I shook off my thoughts and walked to him. He took hold of my arm and dragged me to the stage. I bit my lip, holding back a yelp at how tightly his fingers were clenching my arm.

I blinked when he left me there.

There were a lot of men in the crowd. It irritated me how many men were willing to buy a girl. This was human trafficking. This was slave trade. It was alarming how many people didn't have morals anymore.

"This is our twenty-seventh girl, Brielle Clarke." The announcer spoke up. So they knew my name after all. Murmurs broke out at my name and I dropped my head, knowing they were all surprised to find me there.

My father was well known so they would probably be wondering what the daughter of a don was doing in a place like this.

"Yes, yes. She is the youngest daughter of Edward Clarke. She is a virgin, never been touched." Red dusted my cheeks. Why were they putting that kind of information out there? "She's a rare one and we're starting at a hundred thousand."

I let out a quiet gasp. No way anyone was going to spend that much amount to buy a woman.

"One fifty thousand!" A deep voice proved me wrong. I didn't dare look up to see who was speaking.

"Two hundred thousand!"

They kept increasing the prices, trying to outbid each other while I could only pray I didn't end up with a horrible person. Then again, if they were at such an auction, they were already horrible.

"Going for seven hundred thousand?" The announcer asked when it seemed like they had stopped bidding. "Going?"

"One million!"

This time, my gasp was loud but nobody cared about me. I raised my gaze, settling on the man whose hand was still raised. I shivered visibly. He was older than my father. What could he possibly want with me?

"Going for one million?"

The men looked at themselves, unfortunately realizing that it was not worth it to go above that amount. I was hoping someone younger would outbid the old man.

"Sold for one million to Mr. Vasiliev!"

Tears formed in my eyes but I was tired of crying. I was tired of everything.

I was sent back into the dressing room and I stayed there with the other girls until they had successfully auctioned all fifty of us. Some men bought more than two women, making me wonder what they wanted.

Was it just sex? Or did they have another reason?

When the auction was finally over, we were distributed to our various owners.

"This is yours, Mr. Vasiliev." A random guard told him. The old man bit his lip lustfully as he looked at me. "Luckily for you, she doesn't cause much trouble."

"She's sexy."

"Yes. She has an appeal even without the endowments."

My tongue poked the inside of my cheek as I stood there quietly. "Can I have her delivered to my house next week?"

"Of course, sir. As soon as we confirm your deposit, we'll bring her to you."

Mr. Vasiliev nodded happily. "Good. It's always nice doing business with you Italians. You're not as bad as people say you are."

I almost snorted. I guess everyone had their own definitions of bad.

The old man squeezed my shoulder before he left the premises and I let out a breath of relief. I had a few more days before he would use me how he liked.

But that only meant staying with the Italians for those few more days.

They upgraded my prison to a bedroom with a bed and toilet because I now had an owner and my owner wanted the best for me. However, I was still not allowed to leave the room.

I was locked in with no way of going out — trust me, I tried. The only time the door was opened was when a man was bringing in my meal.

I preferred it to the cold ground I had been sleeping in prior to that.

I had hoped I would have more time to myself but before I knew it, the time for me to leave came. They dressed me in a tiny short dress that made me uncomfortable. Unfortunately, I could not voice out my discomfort.

"Be good." The Italian boss warned me. "If I hear one complaint from your master, I'll punish you myself. I promise you that."

I shivered, knowing what he meant by punishing me. I decided to be on my best behavior so I would never get to meet this man again.

5. Our property

Maxim Vasiliev

~•~

"Would you care to explain what you spent a million dollars from the mafia money for?"

"Ah!" My father exclaimed, not the least bothered by my question. "I was just about to visit and talk about that."

I gritted my teeth in annoyance. I wondered how my father ever ran the mafia by himself. He was so impulsive and could be reckless at times. I hated him, but he was still my father.

"Pochemu by nam ne pogovorit' ob etom pryamo seychas?" I sighed. "Was it a mistake for me to give you access to the money? It's meant to be for important things, father." [Why don't we talk about it right now?]

"Ty takoy plotnyy, son. I bought you a gift." [You're so dense]

"A gift," I repeated, knowing it couldn't be anything good. "A gift worth a million dollars."

"Yes, you'd like it."

"If you wanted to give me a gift, you were meant to spend your personal money, not the business money."

"What's done is done. You'd receive your gift tonight. I promise you'd like it."

I knew I wouldn't like it. My father was sick and crazy. His views were completely different from mine. If he assured me I would like something, I was bound not to.

"He bought you a gift with the money?" Mikhail snorted. He wasn't too involved in the mafia but he lived with us and was the one person I considered my best friend.

I blew out a breath, throwing the knife in my hand at the target. It hit Bullseye. "Apparently."

This morning, I was very surprised to hear that a million dollars was suddenly missing. My first thought was that someone had stolen from me but when I checked the transaction and saw that it had been transferred to the Italians, I knew it had to be my father.

He was so cozy with them for reasons unknown to me. I never liked them and I was certain I wouldn't like whatever he got from them.

"Let's wait and see what it is then."

"I can only hope it's refundable. I can easily replace the money with mine but I do not want to aid his bad decisions."

Mikhail grinned. "Don't be like that, Max—"

"Maxim." I immediately corrected him. Max made it sound like I was American. I only had Russian roots.

He rolled his eyes. "Maxim. I feel like I would like your present."

Mikhail, however, was all American, but he was adopted by Russian parents back in Russia, hence the name, Mikhail. He had the typical American look; blonde hair and blue eyes. Fortunately, he had a Russian accent which he used to pull women. We became friends at a young age and moved with me to America when we were eighteen.

"Of course, you would." I threw another knife and it stuck just below the previous one. My aim was perfect and I didn't need any more practice but throwing knives was my hobby. It calmed me down.

It definitely stopped me from going over to my father's house demanding to see the gift at this moment.

I'd taken a break from work today after many months of working nonstop and instead of relaxing as I had planned to do, I was left thinking about what the fuck my father had done. I knew it couldn't be anything good.

I was not a very curious man but he had me wondering which was why as soon as one of my men alerted me of my father's presence at the gate hours later, I didn't waste time stepping out of my office.

When I reached the front room, he was already seated on the couch with a girl. Both of them stood up when they saw me.

"Ah, Maxim. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

My eyes drifted to the girl beside my father. She had plain brown hair but I couldn't see her face because she was looking at the ground. I hated it. She was dressed in a little dress that didn't cover anything.

"I've told you to stop bringing your whore to my house." I raised an eyebrow at the man who birthed me. He liked them young and the last one he brought here tried to steal from me. "Is she even legal?"

She flinched at the question but still didn't raise her gaze.

"Don't be like that, son. I brought her for you."

I paused and my tongue poked the inside of my cheek. "This is the gift you bought for me."

At those words, she finally looked up at me and I sucked a sharp breath at the intensity of her gaze. It seemed like she was just as surprised as I was.

"Yes. Isn't she pretty?"

"You spent a million dollars on a whore." I emphasized. "I can get pussy whenever the fuck I want and for free. Are you fucking crazy?"

"She's not just a pussy." He sighed like I was being the unreasonable one. "She has never been touched and I bought her for you because I know you're not settling down anytime soon. You can marry her or use her as your personal bitch. You don't have to look for a new woman to fuck every time. I'm sure you must be tired of all those clingy bitches. I'm doing you a favor, son."

I flexed my fingers, trying to stop myself from getting too angry. She wasn't some whore then. It didn't even seem like she wanted to be here. "Does she even want this? I'm not going to rape her. What's with your backward thinking?"

"It's not going to be rape."

"Do you want to have sex with me?"

The girl blinked as if she wasn't expecting the question. "M-me?"

"Did you consent to this? You were kidnapped, weren't you?"

She looked between my father and me as though she was scared to answer. Then, she nodded meekly. "Use your words," I added.

"K-kidnapped."

I turned to my father. "You and everyone else involved in this are sick. I don't want her. She doesn't want me. Get her the fuck out of my house."

"Fine." My sixty-year-old father shrugged. "She's already our property and if you don't want her, I'll just have her."

6. Enemy

Brielle Clarke

~•~

An involuntary whimper escaped my mouth at Mr. Vasiliev's words, making the two men snap their heads toward me. My eyes met the ground immediately.

"Raise your gaze." I heard the younger man growl out. Barely stopping myself from flinching, I looked up to see that he had his eyes trained on me already.

He looked dangerous and the tattoos he had all over his body made me curious about his pain tolerance. I almost had a tattoo once and I chickened out.

I didn't know who would be a better choice to stay with but I didn't have to think much about that because it was not my choice.

My eyes were locked with his and my breath hitched, unable to look away for some reason. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he finally broke eye contact with me, facing his father instead.

"Ya voz'mu yeye." He finally declared. I did not understand what he said so I could only stare in oblivion.

However, the smile that came on his father's face gave me an idea. "Of course, you're going to ruin my fun. After I had her, I would've just given her to your brother. I wouldn't keep her."

I bit down on my lip. I knew I came from this kind of family where women were treated as whores or trophies but hearing him talking about passing me around like that made me shiver in disgust.

"Stop doing that." I released my lip from my teeth at once, not wanting to draw more attention to myself. The junior Vasiliev let out a sigh. "Well, it's my one million you spent, so you can scurry off."

"Your one million?"

"I run the mafia, don't I?" He raised a challenging eyebrow at his father.

It didn't seem like the men liked each other. It also didn't seem like they hated each other as well. I could only hope that the man standing before me was not as vile as his father.

He was the head of the Russian mob but I hoped he had a little bit of moral in him.

He did say he was not going to rape me, so I guess that was a start.

"Are we done here? I have work to do."

"Your men told me it's your day off."

"Well, I'd rather not spend it arguing with you, so if you'd excuse me."

Without saying anything more, the younger Vasiliev turned around and disappeared through the exit, leaving me alone with his creep of a father.

"You've been quiet so far. Keep it up but seduce him or something. Maxim's so uptight sometimes."

Uptight? Was he talking about the same man that just bragged about being able to have sex whenever he wanted?

"Remember, he might own you now but if I have a complaint to make, the Italians will work on you."

I did not want to find out what that meant, so I nodded. "Yes, sir."

He regarded me with one last look before he left me as well. I was frozen on the spot, not knowing where to go or what to do.

After a while, I sat down back on the couch, hearing footsteps moving to and fro around the house but none of them ever neared the living area.

As soon as I started looking around the house, I heard someone come in. Startled, I jumped up immediately, surprised to see an American man walking toward me.

When he spoke though, he sounded every bit of Russian. "Christ. You're jumpy."

I smiled nervously.

"When I heard what Maxim's present was, I had to come to take a look for myself. Despite how gorgeous you are, he doesn't seem happy about it."

When I kept silent, he let out a laugh, his blue eyes shining with fascination. He ran a hand through his blonde hair before extending it to me.

"I'm Mikhail. You are?"

"Brielle," I said quietly, shaking his hand.

"Brielle?"

"Brielle Clarke."

He paused. "Brielle Clarke? As in that Clarke? The daughter of Edward Clarke?" I nodded my head. "Damn, Maxim's father is one motherfucker. How the hell did you end up here?"

That question only reminded me of the fact that my own father sold me out. I still hadn't gotten over it and I knew it would take a while to accept that none of my family members liked me or wanted me in their lives.

The thought brought tears to my eyes and I quickly blinked them away.

"Fuck, I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry."

I almost laughed. For someone in the mafia, he was kind. I had never heard a man apologize in my life. Women just had to deal with men the way they were.

"Now, there's a smile. Don't you talk?" He facepalmed the minute the question exited his mouth. "Of course you do. You just told me your name. Maxim left you alone here, didn't he?" With a nod from me, he sighed. "Come with me."

At first, he was walking very fast but when he saw that I could barely catch up, he slowed down his strides. I couldn't commit the path to memory as he walked me toward a door he threw open.

There we saw Maxim, a knife in his hand.

"Her name is Brielle Clarke," Mikhail announced, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Maxim had the same reaction as Mikhail did. He froze, then slowly turned around to face us as we were standing by the door. "I am going to kill my father."

I couldn't understand what that meant nor could I decipher if he was being serious or not, which was why I couldn't help myself but ask, "Why?"

Maxim barely spared me a glance before he returned to throwing knives and the nice one replied to me. "Max here hates your father.*

"Maxim." The man in question corrected snappily.

"Maxim," Mikhail rolled his eyes, "basically hates your family. His father did this to mess with him."

I bit my bottom lip. Of course, it was just my luck that the person I ended up with was someone my father had made enemies with. Who knew what he would do with me now?

"Stop doing that." His cold voice snapped me out of my reverie.

He hadn't necessarily been nice to me earlier but he sounded more rude and it frightened me. I wondered if he was still going to keep me after learning of this new information.

If he was, what was he going to do?