My obsession with the mayor’s daughter was dangerous for us both. I would have to overcome this weakness, for her sake as well as mine. I would do anything to protect Allie, but I had to face the cold reality that stalking her wasn’t ensuring her protection; I was endangering us both by making our connection public knowledge. If her father found out, I’d end up in jail or dead. And if my family found out, Allie would suffer the consequences of my selfish desire.
Tonight, I’d go back to stalking my Bratva enemies and seeking new leads about her father’s involvement with the Russians. The best way for me to keep Allie safe was to stay far away from her.
ALLIE
I’d had to go back to the library after I fled from Max. His fierce kiss was even more all-consuming than I’d remembered. As though my body was incapable of recalling the full, devastating impact of our chemistry until it overwhelmed me once again.
I resisted the urge to rub my eyes, mindful not to smear my mascara at work. They were itchy from lack of sleep, and a constant burn prickled at the corners of my vision. I’d spent hours fighting off tears over the last several days. It’d been bad enough before he claimed that intense kiss yesterday morning.
The tightness in my chest had mercifully eased for those mad, fiery minutes of passion when he’d held me captive in his strong arms. But as soon as sanity returned, the ache had throbbed back with double the pain.
My fingers flexed to fists, crumpling the file in my hands. Why did he do this to me? He’d pushed me away in the cruelest way imaginable. He had no right to follow me, to corner me and claim my mouth as though my body belonged to him.
Niko had kissed me only hours before that. Max’s lips had burned away all lingering desire for the gorgeous billionaire.
I straightened my shoulders at the thought of Niko, summoning my resolve. It was more than Max’s kiss that’d cooled my desire for the charming Russian. When I’d returned to the library to gather the books I needed, the niggling doubts that’d plagued me sharpened to needles, pricking holes in the foundations of everything I’d ever believed about my father.
Because I’d discovered something awful about Niko’s family. Nothing named them specifically, but what he’d said about his grandfather had been the key to unravelling the mystery of the Ivanovs’ wealth.
Niko had told me that his family earned their fortune in the aluminum industry in the wake of the collapse of the U.S.S.R. In my research on modern Russian history and the formation of the current-day Bratva, I’d read that the industry had been a hotbed for vicious criminals, with bloody wars fought over precious resources that gave rise to some of the most prominent mobsters of the nineties.
All that money that Mikhail Ivanov had donated to my dad’s campaign efforts…
A shudder raced through me, revulsion at the very idea that Daddy had accepted funds from brutal criminals.
But maybe he didn’t know. Maybe I was wrong, and Max had put these crazy ideas in my head that made me second-guess everything I knew about my father.
It would be so much easier if I could dismiss the suspicion that Daddy knew about the origins of the Ivanovs’ wealth—if they even were involved in organized crime. But Mike had told me that a Russian informant had been the key to building the case that brought down the Italian Mafia in New York. And now, my dad had deep ties to the Ivanovs.
It was the barest hint of a connection. But it was giving me nightmares. It was making me question everything I knew about my upbringing.
I had to talk to Mike again. He’d told me that the modern-day Bratva operated differently from the way the Mafia had been structured ten years ago. He might be able to offer some insight that would exonerate the Ivanovs. There was still a very big chance that this was all in my head—and all in Max’s head, too.
I set the file I’d fetched for a senior colleague down on her desk, accepting her thanks with an absent nod. I barely registered Gavin’s distant glower as I made my way past him to walk to Mike’s office. I was too preoccupied to even think about my bully, much less fear him.
“Allie.” Mike beamed at me in greeting and waved his hand to indicate that I was welcome to join him. “It’s good to see you. Come in, come in.”
He stood and crossed the worn gray carpet to shut the door behind me before ushering me to the leather chair at his desk. He settled down in his own chair across from me and leaned forward on his elbows, steepling his fingers beneath his chin. Lines of age deepened around his eyes and mouth as he offered me an encouraging smile.