Mafia Boss’s Arranged Bride by Bella King
Chapter 32
Annika
Ishould’ve known they’d be from Ukraine, likely brought in at the ripe age of eighteen, misled into thinking that removing their clothes would take them out of poverty and provide them with enough cash to pursue their true desires. Maybe they’d like to go to college, or perhaps they prefer to stay milking the tit of society, shaking ass for broken men for dollar bills laced with fentanyl and coke.
Whichever it is, they won’t be leaving this place. Even once I walk in behind Nikolai, I can practically hear the iron bars slamming down behind us, caging us into the sick beast that is human trafficking and heroin needles, dirty mattresses, and unwilling encounters with strange men.
I despise it here, but I don’t tell that to Nikolai. He’s made it painfully clear that we’re not here to enjoy ourselves. This is a business trip, and finding Michail takes precedence over my feelings about fishnets and cocaine.
“Nikolai!” A shrill voice with a thick Ukrainian accent shouts from across the room.
My shoulders roll inward, and my chest tightens. A leggy blonde woman made even taller by six-inch see-through heels shuffles toward Nikolai the best she can in such a tight dress. With arms extended, she nearly skewers my head with one of her acrylic nails as she goes to hug him.
Nikolai holds out his hand to keep her from doing so, much to my delight. “I’m here on business, Yana,” he says in a gruff voice.
She drops her hands and shoots me a death glare. “To be honest, Nikolai, I’m surprised you’re here at all. Your brother has been bragging about his conquests nonstop; my god, my ears might just fall from my head.”
Nikolai chuckles, but I remain unamused.
Yana doesn’t seem to like me all that much, and I feel eclipsed by her extravagant makeup and dress that squeezes her tits so hard that they’re spilling out of the top like over-proofed pizza dough. It’s a grotesque display of sexuality, certainly not very tasteful, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about my plain white dress and sneakers.
“So, I take it Michail is coming here often,” Nikolai says, wasting no time fishing for information about our new target.
“Like, all of the time,” she says, sounding theatrically exasperated about it. “He comes in, brags about how much money he’s making, and barely spends any on dances. You were a much better spender,” she says, looking toward me with a devious smile. “Why don’t you stay for a dance?”
“No thanks,” Nikolai replies, cutting through her bullshit with satisfying swiftness. “I just want to know when the next time you expect him to be here is.”
“Tonight,” she says with a smile, shaking off his bluntness with more artificial charm. “We’re having a special deal in the champagne room if you care to stay. Oh, I do hope you do, Nikolai, dear. I’d throw in a little something extra if you did.”
Never before have I wanted to throw fists with a stripper, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. I wonder how many fights break out here from mafia men bringing their girlfriends along with them. With women like Yana buzzing around, I would assume quite a few.
Nikolai places his hand on my back, seeming to sense my discomfort as he addresses Yana’s second attempt to pull him into her lair. “How many people does he usually have with him? Three? Four?”
“One,” she replies, her lips pursing together like she just ate a lemon, peel and all. “Some skank with tits bigger than her head. Pretty sure she swings both ways, though, because Anna has been all over her.”
Nikolai leans down and lowers his voice to speak to me. “That must be Nicole. Michail used to chase after that bitch every day when we were in high school. Only now, some twenty-odd years later, is he able to convince her that he’s worthy of her time. She was always a gold-digger. I’m sure that hasn’t changed. The only difference is now Michail is cosplaying as a mafia boss.”
“So, we won’t have any trouble?” I ask, glancing up at Yana as she scowls at me. She acts like even the simple act of speaking with Nikolai is a crime against humanity.
“No trouble,” Nikolai replies, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a folded stack of bills. He hands it to Yana. “Right, Yana?”
“He won’t even know you were here,” she says, smiling so wide that a gold tooth in the back of her mouth gleams in the red LED lights that illuminate the club.
“We’re going to check out the dressing rooms,” Nikolai says. “Tell the owner I’m going there to get my cock sucked. I’ll tip him later for the room.”
I frown, but I don’t have time to ask questions before he tugs me toward the back of the club. It’s still early in the afternoon, so the music isn’t as deafeningly loud as I know it’ll be when more guests arrive. There are only a few women here, too, but I’m sure there will be more. This place is big enough to accommodate a dozen or more if they have the foot traffic to justify it.
“After you, darling,” Nikolai says, pushing back a red curtain that leads to a room full of makeup kits, rogue thongs, and hair irons.
I step inside and immediately feel the need to cough. The room smells like a mixture of shitty weed, piss, and two-dollar perfume. It’s sickly sweet inside, and the air is thick and stale. I wonder why until I realize there isn’t a single window or air duct to move air through the space.
“This is disgusting,” I say, noticing a stained mattress in the corner.
“I’ve seen worse,” Nikolai replies, stepping around me.
My feet are planted to the floor, still taking in the depressing sight while he wipes the glitter off a chair and sits down. I’m only able to tear my eyes away from the mess when I remember what Nikolai told Yana before we left.
“What did you say about a blowjob?” I ask, looking toward him and frowning.
“Nobody will bother us,” he replies. “Sex is just about the only way to get privacy around here; otherwise, you’re shit out of luck. There aren’t even dividers in the men’s bathroom, by the way. Just a bunch of toilets like chairs in a conference room.”
“Somehow, that’s even worse than I imagined it,” I say, shaking my head. “This place is horrible. Why would you even come here?”
“Good people avoid bad places, and good people don’t typically share my interests. Hell, even the cops won’t come in here. They’d get shanked, cut into quarters, and disposed of in the garbage bin out back. They don’t fuck around with narks in here,” he says.
I’ve been so far removed from the true mafia lifestyle that only now do I realize how bad it is. So many things were never shown to me; so much of the gritty realism swept under the rug in favor of the perception of grace. There’s nothing glamorous about the mafia. It’s vile, but I’m no better for being a part of it. That’s something I’ll have to accept whether I like it or not.
“Should I be sucking your dick, then?” I ask, cocking my head to the side.
“Actually, I have a better idea,” he says with a sly grin. “Spread those legs and lift up your dress.”
