BWWM: Chosen By The Russian Mafia (A BWWM Billionaire Mafia Romance) (BBW Alpha Male Pregnancy Short Stories)

Chosen By The Russian Mafia

***

Will Alexei be able to keep Chloe safe from the Russian Mafia?

Chloe Smithson
knows a good story when she sees one, as an awarded investigative journalist working in Washington D.C., it’s her job. So when she stumbles across the path of one handsome, devil-may-care, playboy she decided it might be in her best interest to follow her instincts and see where it leads.

              Unfortunately for her, she doesn’t realize until it’s too late that the man she’s pursuing is none other than
Russian billionaire Alexei Dobrovski
, notorious for his good luck, charisma, and ties to the nefarious
Bratva
, the Russian mafia. 

              Will she uncover who he is before it’s too late? And more importantly, will she give him the chance to prove who he really is before she says goodbye to him forever? Love is never easy, especially when they have inclement weather, several countries, and the entire Russian mafia standing between them. Will Chloe and Alexei do what they must to overcome all odds, and take a gamble on love?

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Copyright 2015 by Serena Vale - All rights reserved.

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Chosen By The Russian Mafia

Chapter 1

“Come on, Alexei, one more job, and then you can leave clean.” The man on the other end of the line said in a heavy Russian accent, making Alexei shake his head in consternation.

              “That’s what you said last time, Sergio. And the time before that. I told you, I’m out.” His own deep voice carried an equally thick accent, although his was slightly more rural. He preferred not to think of his lowly past. Nothing more than another mouth to feed in a family of thirteen, left to fend for himself as his drunk of a father spent most of his time buried in a bottle, and his mother had to turn to less than savory means to support them all.

              The first time he had heard the word
Bratva,
or the brotherhood as the Russian mafia like to call themselves, Alexei was only seven years old. His mother had gotten in deep, too deep, taking clients in an area controlled by the
Bratva,
and they weren’t about to let some country prostitute eat into their business.

              They had stormed into their house, killing his father and two of his brothers before his mother could make the deal. Alexei for her life. As the youngest, he would be the easiest to train, to turn into whatever they wanted. They had taken the deal, and Alexei had never seen his family again.

              He pushed the memories away, shoving them deep into the black corners of his mind that he refused to look at. Despite his rough childhood, it had made him the man he was today, and had also given him the means to amass a vast fortune. He had climbed quickly up the ladder in the mafia, mostly due to to his extreme cleverness, innate understanding of business, and pure luck.

              He couldn’t even count the number of times he had been at the right place at the right time, told the right lie, or met the right person, all because of his luck. Just thinking about it had him superstitiously digging the little metal medallion depicting Saint Christopher from beneath his expensive black button down shirt and kissing the back before tucking it safely away.

              The first two million he had made had been the result of a series of desperate gambles that ended up paying off. He had just turned eighteen. Now, a decade later, Alexei had turned those millions into billions. He always took the greatest risk, because those were the ones that paid big. If you play small, you win small, he thought to himself as he toyed with the small glass paperweight on his massive black oak desk.

              Sergio’s rough laughter cut off his rambling thoughts. “You never really get out, Alexei. I know that, you know that. The only difference is that I accept it.”

              “I’ve given the
Bratva
more than my fair share. How many people have brought in more cash than me, eh?”

              “It’s not about the money, Alexei–.”

              Alexei snorted in derision and disbelief, and Sergio hastily corrected what he was saying.

              “Okay, well, it’s not
just
about the money. It’s about your…abilities.”

              Alexei couldn’t help but roll his dark blue eyes, even though he knew the other man couldn’t see it. They were a superstitious bunch. And they believed in Alexei’s luck as much as he did. The only problem was, he had gone straight. It had taken almost twenty painful years to dislodge the Mafia’s vicious claws and he really didn’t want to be back under their thumb. It was a very dangerous place to be.

              “Will you at least listen to what the job is before you say no?”

              Alexei sighed, knowing he had no real choice in the matter. It seemed like every time he thought he was finally free, they found a way to reel him back in.

              “Fine, go ahead…” He sighed.

              “Okay, so it goes like this. There’s a politician, who owes some money…”

              Alexei listened with half an ear as Sergio explained the situation, making noises whenever it was appropriate as he picked up the paperweight again, staring sadly at the picture of the woman that was trapped forever inside it. There was only one thing that his luck seemed to always fail him. Love.

              Chloe strode purposely down the cracked sidewalk, her freshly minted security pass gripped tightly in one hand. Her black high heels clicked aggressively as she glanced at her watch, and practically began jogging up the hill.  She could see the capitol building now, but she was still a good ten minutes away, and fifteen minutes late for her meeting with senator Shields.

              “Watch out!”

              Chloe grunted as she hit something solid, very solid. And warm. And so deliciously masculine it took her a moment to realize that she had an entire cup of coffee dripping down the front of her cream colored pea coat.

              “Damn it!” She swiped the handful of napkins out of the man’s hand, uselessly dabbing at the dark liquid already staining her jacket.

              “I am so sorry.” He said in a Russian accent so heavy it took her a minute to process his words.

              “No, please, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention, and I am so late,” Chloe looked back down at her coat, “and so screwed.” What was she going to do now?

              “Here, take this.” He immediately shrugged out of his thick wool coat, a deep black that made his dark blue eyes look like the ocean. Not that Chloe had ever seen the ocean in person, having grown up in Washington D.C. her whole life, but what she imagined it would be like. Mysterious, fathomless, and ever shifting.

              Before she even realized what he was doing, he had helped her out of her still dripping coat and had her wrapped in his clean, warm one. She took a deep breath, inhaling the dark, masculine smell of him. Chloe took a step back, for the first time really looking at the tall stranger she had plowed into.

              His sharply chiseled features jutted from his face like a mountain hewn by hard winds and bitter cold. It was a strong face, full of character and charm, and sexy as hell, she added to herself. Her own big amber eyes swept over his jet black hair, long, but slicked back, looking like he had run his long fingers through it more than a few times. His lips were full, and quirked into a lopsided smile as he watched her watching him. His dark, ocean blue eyes filled with humor, and some hidden heat that sent an answering flame shooting through her body.

December was a cold month in D.C. but Chloe suddenly felt overly warm, and had to resist the urge to fan her face with a hand, feeling her normally dark brown skinned cheek flush a pretty scarlet. The look in his eyes deepened to something else. Hunger.

Their gazes met for less than a second but the moment seemed to drag out, time slowing immeasurably as she felt trapped, unable to look away.

              “
kogda zvezdy vyravnivayut…
” he murmured, his deep voice soft, and slightly husky in the midmorning air.

              “What?” His whispered words pulled her out of her trance, and she took another step back, overwhelmed by her intense reaction to a complete stranger.

              “Oh, it’s just something I say sometimes, when I’m feeling lucky.”

              “Yeah, and what is that?”

              He took a deep breath, and then released it on a huff of cold air before slowly answering, staring into her eyes.

              “It means ‘when the stars align’…”