Colors of Crime (Books 1-4) Boxset by Sophie Lark

Author:Sophie Lark [Sophie Lark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Contemporary Romance, Mafia, Thriller, spanking, Bratva
Published: 2020-05-08T04:00:00+00:00

6

Violet

Violet stopped at the supermarket on the way home. She filled her backpack with milk, eggs, bread, apples, and a few other things she needed. She was distracted, thinking about the figure who had been watching her.

When she arrived back at her apartment, she was startled to see a large package leaning up against the door. She could tell at once from the shape what it contained.

She unlocked the door and brought it inside, carrying the bulky parcel gingerly. She stripped off the brown paper, unveiling an absolutely gorgeous classic Taylor mahogany guitar. She could smell the fine new wood, and she could barely allow herself to touch the flawless gleaming finish.

Mischa was only just stumbling out of her bedroom, looking for coffee.

“Oh, you got a new guitar already!” she said, when she saw it laying across the kitchen table.

“I didn’t buy it,” Violet said. “It was sitting outside the front door.”

“Oh,” Mischa said, looking confused.

“Do you know who dropped it off?”

“No,” Mischa said, shaking her head. “I didn’t hear any knock.”

Since Mischa had once slept through an alarm that included three fire engines with blaring sirens parked directly outside their window, that didn’t mean much.

“Who do you think it’s from?” Mischa asked, examining Violet’s troubled face.

“I told Viktor Turgenev that I’d lost my guitar,” Violet said. “Last night. He left me a really big tip.”

Mischa sucked in her breath.

“Viktor Turgenev?” she said.

“Yeah,” Violet said. “You know him?”

“He’s the head of one of the biggest crime families,” Mischa said. “He basically runs Paris.”

“Why’s he so interested in me?” Violet asked.

“The usual reason, I guess,” Mischa said. She looked frightened.

“I don’t know,” Violet said. “He didn’t seem like that. When I spoke to him.”

“It’s always ‘like that’ with men,” Mischa said disdainfully.

Violet was used to the lustful attentions of older men, but, somehow, she hadn’t gotten that feeling from Turgenev. Maybe from his lieutenant, Anton Vasilev...

“I wonder if it was his bodyguard who sent it,” Violet mused. “I spoke to him, too.”

“Who’s the bodyguard?”

“His name is Anton Vasilev.”

“He’s no bodyguard,” Mischa said, shaking her head. “He’s second-in-command. Over Turgenev’s own son.”

“Maybe I should send it back,” Violet said.

“You can’t do that!” Mischa shook her head, her dark eyes wide. “You’d offend them.”

Violet definitely didn’t want to do that. And besides, where would she even mail it?

“Go on, try it out,” Mischa said.

Violet picked up the expensive instrument, holding it lightly in front of her body with the fingers of her left hand delicately curled above the frets. She didn’t have a guitar pick on hand, but she generally preferred to pluck and strum with her bare fingers, as she liked to feel the strings vibrating.

She played a quick scale, to check the tuning. It was flawless. Someone had tuned the guitar within hours of leaving it at her door.

She played the beginning of “Blackbird,” singing the first verse softly.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arrive.

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