Weeping Roses: A Dark Mafia Romance (The Romanovs Book 2) by Stella Andrews

Author:Stella Andrews [Andrews, Stella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-16T00:00:00+00:00

Exactly two hours and twenty minutes later, I make my way to the front door to meet my prince, feeling like a princess. I’ve had so much fun transforming myself from Polly, an ordinary girl, into the date of a billionaire. It’s definitely how I think of him, and I doubt I’m wrong.

I selected a white dress that swirls around my ankles and moves like flowing milk as I walk. The silver court shoes are encrusted in crystals and the lingerie underneath is soft and caressing my body like an ardent lover would.

I am wearing a white fur wrap over my shoulders and there is a delicate diamond necklace gracing my cleavage with a matching bracelet on my wrist. The white clutch bag in my hand holds my phone and a tube of lipstick and my hair is curled and messy on top of my head, secured with a diamond clip.

I waft down the stairs, trailing the scent that I could drip in for the rest of my life, and when I see the man waiting for me, I almost stumble.

He is immaculately dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt, open as usual revealing the ink on his muscled skin. His dark hair gleams but nowhere near as much as his eyes as he stares at me walking toward him with the look of a predator. I gaze in awe at the man who commands attention because of the aura of confidence and power that sits well on his shoulders and as I approach, his appreciative gaze slides across my body and I detect the lust burning brightly in his eyes.

He reaches out his hand and I note the gold Rolex on his tanned wrist and, as his tattooed hand closes around mine, he whispers, “You are beautiful, Polly.”

“So are you.” I smile as I compliment him and his low laugh makes me smile.

“I’ll take that.” He rolls his eyes with amusement and nods toward the door.

“After you.”

The door opens automatically, courtesy of one of his men, and as we walk past him, he hands Valentin the keys to a silver Maserati.

“Is this yours?”

My eyes widen as I take in the sleek lines of a supercar and Valentin nods. “One of my collection.”

“One of what?” I stare at him wide-eyed, and he shrugs as if it’s of no consequence.

“I have several. It’s just a car, Polly.”

“If you say so.”

I slide into the seat with an excited squeal as I take in the polished interior and the black leather seats. This car is as magnificent as the man who will be driving it, and I would be happy to forego the meal and spend the evening driving around London instead.

The noise from the engine rumbles through my entire body, and I hold my breath as Valentin expertly moves away from the curb.

As we pull out into the London traffic, I note the awe on the faces of the passers-by and feel exactly the same. I am definitely living the

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