The Mafia and His Obsession: Part 2 (Tainted Hearts Series Book 5) Read online

  THE MAFIA AND

  HIS OBSESSION

  PART 2

  Tainted Hearts Series

  By Lylah James

  THE MAFIA AND HIS OBSESSION PART 2

  Copyright © 2018 by Lylah James.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: July 2018

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13:1-978-64034-607-9

  ISBN-10:1-64034-607-4

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To Vivvi Rose,

  Thank you for being my best friend and for never giving up on me.

  I wouldn’t have been able to write The End of this book without you.

  You’re my favorite person and my favorite bitch.

  So…yeah, I love you…

  ***CONTENT WARNING***

  This book contains dark—and sometimes violent—depictions of the world of organized crime and sexual assault. Some events might be triggers for some readers.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Epilogue

  “I don’t want to make love. I want to rub my soul up against yours and watch love make us.”

  - Michelle Schaper

  Prologue

  Valentin Solonik

  Weak. She was so goddamn weak, so fragile, so breakable. They all were.

  It started the same way every time. They’d fight at first, struggle against my bigger and much stronger body. They’d scream, cry out, and some might even curse at me, spit, and try to bite off my flesh. But it always ended up the same.

  From a strong spirit, fighting for their lives and dignity to someone weak, pliable, and a whimpering mess, asking—no—begging for mercy.

  Holding my hand over her lips, I muffled her screams. She tried to fight against me, but I overpowered her. This girl was too weak for me. She was nothing but a stupid pawn to this game, in this arena.

  I liked the one who were fighters. The savages, wild ones. They’re the most fun to break. And they make the sweetest, prettiest doll a man could ever own.

  Thrusting one last time into her unwilling, tight body, I emptied myself before pulling out. She stayed there on the floor, her legs opened and her body useless. She stared blankly at the ceiling. There was a numb look on her face. So easily broken. Her mind had been made of glass, easily shattering under my weight. Her lithe, sexy body was pliable, easily bent into whatever position I wanted to take her.

  “Solonik, how much are you bidding tonight?” A voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I looked up to meet Carlos’s eyes. His face was deadly, a mask of darkness, but I could see the small victory smile.

  “More than you. I don’t play to lose,” I drawled, standing on my feet. I kicked the useless girl away. She moaned in pain, and I couldn’t help but laugh watching another man crawl over her body. She was still bleeding between her legs where I had ripped through her virginity.

  “Take her ass,” I said. “I haven’t fucked that hole yet. It will be tight for you.”

  The man nodded too eagerly. He looked like someone who had just gotten his favorite candy to devour. I had my fun; the broken doll’s fate was in his hands now. With a shake of my head, I walked away with Carlos.

  “I’m bidding one million on that girl.” He talked smoothly, pointing at the girl in the corner. She was on her knees, lined up like all the others. She was beautiful, pretty to look at, pretty enough to sink my dick in for one round but…

  “Not my type,” I responded, while searching for someone who would really catch my eye.

  They were all weak and without a fight. None of them had kept my interest for too long because they were so fucking easy to break. None had my attention, except for one.

  She was waiting for me at home, like a nice little pet, a little princess in her tower, awaiting her master. Her King. She was an alluring beauty, charming everyone in her path.

  I locked her away, for her tunes were only mine to hear and her skin only mine to touch. When she was good, I showered her with gold and diamonds, gave her a little fairy-tale while keeping a collar on her neck.

  Even though she acted broken, I knew she was anything but. There was fire in her soul, in her eyes. I could see it all, and I couldn’t wait to pull it out and turn it to ashes…so slowly until her tears would run red.

  Before my little pet, long before she became my wife…there was another.

  A long time ago, I had captured a pretty siren with shiny black hair and enticing blue eyes. She was mine. Until she wasn’t. Until she was stolen away from me. He took her away.

  Little did he know…he started a war that night.

  I gave them eight years of happiness. I pitied them and let them have eight years of love. I kept silent, watching in the shadows.

  When the right time came, I ripped it all away. I fucking obliterated their little happily ever after.

  It was fun to watch. It was beautiful to hear Lyov Ivanshov scream in pain. A fucking pleasure to my ears.

  He took her away from me, and in the end, I had returned the favor. Now, my goal was so close. I could almost feel it, sense and smell it. The Ivanshovs were about to come to a cruel end. They would all be on their knees before me.

  Soon enough, I would be the Pakhan. The fucking master. The King.

  It was time to win this little game of mine.

  Chapter 1

  Viktor

  I stormed forward into the tiny estate—the cold, sterile building that used to be my home for a year. Where Valentin kept me hidden until I was ready to make my presence known and conquer the game, one move at a time.

  The guards greeted me with a slight bow of their heads. The maids scurried away from my path, their heads bowed too. None of them met my eyes. The estate was silent and dark, the same cold feeling it always had.

  My feet continued to move toward one direction. It had been a week since my conversation with Valerie. Since she cried for her.

  Valerie had told me a little sto
ry, her reality before I stumbled into her life and brought chaos with me. Except her life had already been dark and chaotic.

  In her story, there was a girl. A friend. A sister—she said. Not by blood. No, they were bound together through this goddamn life. They became each other’s savior.

  But Valerie’s story changed everything I used to believe in.

  So I had to know for myself. I came here to seek the truth.

  I had to know if Valerie’s friend, Irina, was the same as the one I met before.

  The same woman I used, just like Valentin had. Used and discarded.

  It had been eating me all week, my stomach churning just at the thought.

  To me, she had just been someone to sink my dick in. A faceless woman for my pleasure. A whore—because that was what I thought. But little did I fucking know.

  I stalked the length of the halls, looking for Irina. Room by room, I entered and then left when I didn’t see her. My fingers clenched my hair in frustration when I couldn’t find her.

  Finally, one room was left, the last one at the end of the corridor. The one that was always closed. I never thought much of it—I simply didn’t care, but now…

  Walking closer, I stood outside, waiting. I didn’t know what I was waiting for. Maybe I was scared of the truth. Maybe I was scared of facing her reality.

  My hands were cold and shaking when I opened the door. Once inside, I found the room dark and cold. The scent of despair and death hung in the air. Fuck.

  I walked further inside. There were no windows. Just four walls—a cage for someone. The room just had the bare necessities. Only a queen-size bed in the middle. An old wooden table and a chair by the furthest wall.

  I touched the wall closest to the door, looking for a light switch. My gaze followed the darkness, looking—desperately searching. Finally, my eyes found who I was looking for.

  I couldn’t see her, the darkness hiding her in the shadows, but she was there.

  My fingers found the light switch, and I turned it on. I had to blink several times, trying to get accustomed to the sudden light, and when I finally could see—my stomach rolled and my heart squeezed at the sight in front of me.

  Irina was on her knees beside the bed, almost plastered against the wall with her head bowed. Even with the lights on, she kept kneeling, her eyes cast downward.

  She looked frozen, too still—almost like a statue. A doll sitting there, waiting to be played with by her master.

  My eyes quickly traveled the length of her naked body, my gaze staying longer on the chains around her neck and then down to her wrists and ankles. The heavy metal chain was attached to the bed post. She couldn’t go far from that position.

  “Irina.” A whisper in the cold room.

  She didn’t move, but I knew she heard me. I could see it in the way her shoulders tightened. Irina kept her head bowed, her knees still folded under her body, her thighs just slightly spread apart.

  A slave bound by her owner’s words.

  She would not move or speak without Valentin’s permission.

  It felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped over my head, waking me up from the little fantasy I had been living in. How could I have been so goddamn blind?

  Moving forward, I took the blanket off the bed and draped it on her shoulders. I squatted down, facing her. She still kept her head bowed, refusing to look at me.

  “Look at me, Irina.”

  I saw her fists clenching on her thighs, her nails biting harshly in her flesh. “I am not going to hurt you. Please, look at me.” My words came out choked, sounding harsh against the silence of the room, echoing through the cold walls.

  She stayed completely still and her eyes were closed, her heart, mind, and body wanting different things. Her mind was trained to follow Valentin’s demands. Her body was controlled by his words. Yet her heart still hoped for something else.

  Months ago, I saw another side of Irina. The one who knew what she wanted and she used her words to get it. And now…I was seeing this side. The side that Valentin had wrapped tightly around his fists.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Fuck, I didn’t know. If only I knew…” I left my words hanging only because I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have words of assurance to give her. “I will make him pay, Irina. I’ll fix this.”

  Clearing my throat, I shook my head. My emotions were in turmoil. I not only have let Valerie down, but I didn’t save Irina when I could have.

  “Look at me,” I pleaded one more time.

  The silence stretched. The seconds ticked by. I waited. Finally, she lifted her head up. Irina stared at me with soulless, dark brown eyes. Her once flawless face had bruises and cuts. They were healing nicely, but I knew once they were gone, new ones would take their place.

  My gaze traveled south, and where the collar was attached to her neck, I noticed that her skin was red, almost scratched raw. Her hair was a mess, cut short to her neck and in different angles, almost like it had been chopped angrily.

  Her jaw clenched and then her lips parted, as if she wanted to speak. She breathed through her nose and then swallowed hard.

  “Konstantin,” she whispered.

  I hated that fucking name with a passion. Shaking my head at her, I spoke firmly. “Never. I am never going to be Konstantin again. It’s Viktor. Viktor Ivanshov. From now on, to you—I am Viktor.”

  She cocked her head to the side and regarded me with those dark eyes. It was almost like I was staring at my own empty, tainted soul.

  Irina gave me a small, tight smile. “It was right there. Right in front of you, Konstantin, yet you refused to see it.”

  My throat closed and the invisible weight tightened on my chest at her words, and I looked down, almost ashamed at how much her words rung with the bitter truth. Swallowing hard, my tongue felt heavy in my mouth. My voice sounded rough to my own ears when I finally spoke. “How long?”

  Irina stared at me for the longest time before replying. “I don’t even remember. It’s been so long that I have lost count.”

  She gripped the blanket and huddled more into its softness. Her bleak eyes closed, and she let out an aggrieved sigh. “I was twelve when I was taken,” she whispered softly. I almost missed the words and I almost wished I did.

  It fucking hurt. More than I thought it would.

  Standing up, I paced the room in frustration. My fists clenched at my sides, and I suppressed the urge to break something—to fucking kill.

  From the corner of my eyes, I saw Irina stand up. Her body heavily sagged against the wall, as if she were in pain. Seconds passed, and she finally took a trembling step forward.

  “I was an orphan, running away from a cruel, adoptive system, but I ended up in a hellhole instead. Wrong place. Wrong time. They saw me. In a blink of an eye, I was taken away. Blindfolded, drugged, and then I woke up in a cage.”

  I stopped pacing and turned to face her. She looked down at her feet, lost in her thoughts.

  “It’s known by many names. The Game. Bloodhound. But the club itself, where all the ringmasters sit, it’s called—The Kingpin.”

  Irina looked up, our eyes meeting. She trapped me there, forcing me to see her truth. Her voice cracked when she spoke. “It’s where the arena is. Where the game takes place. Where we are sold, bought, used, and discarded. It’s where the masters make millions a night.”

  This—this was Valentin’s business. This was where his money came from. What his Empire was built on. This was his source of power and exactly what I had to bring down. What Alessio needed me to destroy.

  “Go on,” I urged, wanting to know everything. I had to know.

  Her fingers touched her shackles, and then she dropped her arms down to her sides. I could see her body was weak, fragile, and weighted down. A wilted flower. She reminded me so much of my myshka—my sweet Valerie.

  “When something bad happens, your heart argues with you and your brain becomes a messy place. At first, I was confused. Thought it wa
s just a dream and I’d wake up and all of it would disappear,” Irina continued, her weak voice sounding far away through the roaring in my ears. “I was lucky that I was twelve. At least I understood what was going on. Not all, but most of it. I knew something bad was happening. I knew it was going to hurt. I was prepared for it. I knew my life ended the moment I was drugged and blindfolded the first time.”

  She looked up again, and I saw tears in her eyes. Her face was void of any emotion, but those tears brimming in her eyes gave her away.

  “What about those who are just babies? As young as seven years old?” she murmured. A tear slipped down her cheek. “They knew and understood nothing. They went from being safe to being thrown in the den of The Kingpin. An arena they would never survive. They scream for help. Scream loud for their mommy and daddy to save them. They beg and cry. Nobody came to help, Konstantin. Little girls and boys. Nobody heard their cries.”

  Another tear slipped down her cheeks, and she choked back a sob. “You can see them hurting. Bleeding. They can’t walk afterward. Their little legs would tremble and they would fall down.”

  Bringing her hand up, palms facing upward, she showed me her trembling hands. “I held one of them in my arms. I held him tight and told him it was going to be okay. Until he took his last breath. He didn’t survive The Game. I can still smell his blood, Konstantin.”

  I brought a fist to my lips, holding back my enraged roar. Her words inflicted pain in my soul.

  “We are put in cages, shackled, and then paraded around. We are used in front of others—all our innocence taken away, in the open for the ringmasters to see.”

  Gripping my hair in frustration, I closed my eyes. I felt sick, and despair filled me until my body was cold and shaking with rage.

  The motherfucking Kingpin.

  I was no saint, no savior, no angel. Heaven had long forsaken me, and Hell was probably scared of me. I walked into the shadows of the Devil. I killed for a living. I breathed the life of the underworld, I lived a life of crime and evil, and I was tainted through my bones.