The Boss’s Runaway (Possessive Kingpins)

The meeting went down at Rocco’s club Luna. The moment the Ivanovs entered, it was like electricity filled the air. Konstantin Ivanov did the world the favor of looking as unhinged and deadly as he was.

There were no sharp business suits for the Ivanov bratva. Instead, they had a mad carnival vibe, with their piercings and tattoos, shit-kicking boots, and punk attire. It was like Harley Quinn had decided to start a men-only gang, and Konstantin was the most terrifying of all. Half his head was shaved, and an elaborate snake coiled around his skull before trailing around his neck. His pale eyes glittered with malevolent amusement as he walked in, looking like he might burn the whole place down at any moment.

Rocco’s readiness to fight was evident, even as he lounged in the bar area. He might be wearing a designer suit, but the man as lethal as Konstantin, he just didn’t advertise it.

“Well, well, isn’t this nice? We never get invited to such nice places, do we, boys?” Konstantin tossed over his shoulder. There was a tittering of laughs.

“You came,” I stated flatly, sensing my men’s watchfulness.

Kon nodded. “Thanks for the invite. I suppose I should be thankful that the man fucking my baby sister is so polite.”

I waited, not wanting to rise to the bait.

“I expect you to give her back, mostly in one piece. I can still get a good price for her, even if she isn’t a virginal little brat anymore.”

Only my fist curling betrayed my fury at his vile words. “I didn’t know who she was when I met her. Now it’s turned out this way, and nothing can be done about it.”

Kon chuckled darkly. “Turned out this way? That’s a nice way of putting it. The real question is, when are you giving her back?”

“I’m not. It’s too late for that.”

That quiet phrase sent the tension in the room ratcheting up to a nearly unbearable height. Everyone could feel it. Kon blinked and leaned back, stretching his tattooed arms along the back of the booth as he reassessed me.

“I have to admit, Song, I didn’t see that coming. So, what’s your end game here?”

“It’s not an end game. I’m keeping Kat. She’ll be a Song. If you don’t want war with two of the five in this city, you’ll let it happen without a fuss. If you want a favor or two in the future, you’ll give her your blessing so she can leave the Bratva behind with a clear conscience.”

There it was. My outrageous conditions. I didn’t expect Kon to go for them, but you never started a negotiation where you wanted to end up.

Kon turned his head to his men standing behind him and laughed. He muttered something in Russian before his easy-going expression melted from his striking face. The man was the living representation of what a union between the noble Romanov bloodline and a serial killer psychopath would look like.

“Nice try. You think you can throw us a scrap from the mighty Song-Luciano table, and we’ll gobble it up like starving dogs? I didn’t crush the Russian competition and take New York in months by being soft or scared.”

I shrugged, adjusting my cuff as if I had no worries in the world. A move always designed to piss off those with a hotter temper than me. “That’s the offer. Gain a brother-in-law in high places or lose a sister.”

“And the fact that I owe a connected bride to Moscow?”

“Not my problem,” I said arrogantly. Sure, I might have been overdoing it, but I knew men like Konstantin Ivanov. Any display of weakness and he would go for the jugular.

 Konstantin stood suddenly, a storm of repressed, violent energy. His shaved head with the snake caught the lights as he moved. “Understood. I hope you got what you wanted here today. I could warn you that you’re making a mistake, but I don’t think I’ll bother. You’ll learn that soon enough,” he said in a low growl.

If I’d been anyone else, he might have impressed me with his aura of suppressed violence. As it was, all it did was tell me I might be delivering my future bride her brother’s corpse as a wedding present.

He stepped closer to me, and suddenly Rocco was at my shoulder, along with my security.

Kon smirked, leaning in. “However, I will give you a freebie. We’re not dogs desperate for scraps. We’re wolves, and we’re always fucking starving.” He snapped his teeth, making his men laugh. He straightened just as Rocco looked about to intervene.

“Until next time, brother-in-law,” Kon called over his shoulder as his carnivalesque rabble of violent psychos followed him out of the club. “Let’s make it sooner rather than later.”