Mikhail Petrov: The Petrov Family Dark Mafia Romance by Elle Maldonado

Author:Elle Maldonado [Maldonado, Elle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-07-14T00:00:00+00:00

Deciding to play it cool while we eat, I pretend our confessions and everything that happened between us in the last twenty-four hours was just a fever dream, because as I listen to him speak, I remember how much I enjoy his company without pressure and expectations. It’s the first time I feel completely at ease since our reunion, bringing me to the conclusion that maybe his proposal of a temporary truce is for the best.

A soothing sense of warmth spreads through my chest as I watch his hard exterior melt away while he relays his plans for Christmas and the anticipation of seeing his family after months.

Of course, I ignore my inner whore pointing out the fact that I’m also shamelessly wet.

Sue me.

“Your dad is having a baby?” I ask with genuine shock, and he nods.

Mr. Nikolai is a very handsome man and the epitome of a silver fox. No wonder his sons are blessed with good looks and egos to match. I’ve met most of them over the years to some capacity.

“Congrats. Whew! That poor girl. I already feel for her.” I chuckle, shaking my head.

He grins but agrees. “I haven’t met her yet, but family is family. And Natalia, the baby, my brother’s wife—all have their place in mine.”

Twinges of envy ripple through me at the realization that Mikhail doesn’t consider me part of his circle. Averting my eyes, I swallow back the lump in my throat. But not before he catches the disappointment on my face.

Reaching for my hand, he rasps, “Moya krasivaya devochka, ty samaya vazhnaya.” (You’re the most important one.)

But I slip from his grip and refuse to meet his eyes. I won’t allow him to reel me in again. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I may be a lot of things, pretty girl, but a liar isn’t one of them.”

I beg to differ.

The small cafe isn’t the place to rehash the past, so soon after we agreed to keep things light. Instead of responding or diving across this table and strangling him, I scan the room, searching for a change in subject. A framed white sign advertising skiing and snowmobile rides catches my eye.

Having never skied in my life, I opt not to die on these slopes. And on the other hand, how hard could driving a snowmobile be? It looks similar to a jet ski, and I’ve been on plenty of those.

“Mikhail, let’s do something fun.”

His eyebrows draw together. “Something...fun?”

“Yeah, you know that thing normal people do when they’re not working 24/7? If we’re stuck here, we might as well make the most of it.”

I can think of at least five positions that would also work in this scenario...

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