Captivated by the deadly mafia boss

Lena

It’s eight-thirty by the time Dimitri pulls the SUV up to Micah’s restaurant.

“Thanks,” I say to Dimitri as I climb out of the car before he can open my door. When I step onto the pavement, he’s almost reached me with a dark frown on his face. “Don’t worry, if Micah asks, I’ll be sure to let him know you opened the doors.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t do anything you’re supposed to do. It’s dangerous,” he warns me as he pushes my door closed.

“How can it be dangerous when I have Micah and his men protecting me?” I flash him a smile and head into the restaurant.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

There’s a crowd when I step inside. Business must be good, then. I see a hand burst up over the heads of those standing in front of me, then a woman slightly taller than me gingerly weaves her way through the customers.

“Ms. Staszek, good evening. Right this way, please.” She flashes me a bright smile.

I follow her through the crowded entrance and then through the dining room. Laughter mixes with the background sounds of silverware hitting dishes as I’m led around the tables of diners. Warm scents of their meals rise up and my stomach rumbles in reaction.

“Mr. Ivanov is waiting for you in the private room in the back. The chef will bring out your meals directly,” the hostess explains as we turn down a corridor. There’s a wall of greenery shielding us from the main dining room.

From ahead of us, a door opens and a black-haired woman steps into the corridor, pulling the door closed behind her. She checks her phone, adjusts the strap of her dress, then stalks toward us. When passing, she flashes a grin and a wink. I stop, wanting to take another look. She didn’t look familiar, but she seemed to know who I am.

“Mr. Ivanov has been in meetings all afternoon,” the hostess says as a way of explaining away the woman maybe.

“He’s a very busy man,” I mutter and follow her the rest of the way to the same door the mystery woman exited.

“Would you like something to drink? There’s a bottle of wine available already in the room, but if you’d like something else, I’ll have the bartender bring it over directly.”

“No, that’s fine. Wine is good,” I say.

She nods. “Have a pleasant evening, Ms. Staszek.” She leaves me at the door and hurries back down the corridor. Her station’s been left empty and from the crowd size, I’d say she’s probably going to be met with some angry faces.

When I enter the room, Micah’s on the phone pacing the floor. He catches my gaze and stops; his eyes wander down my body then back up. An appreciative smile tugs the corners of his lips.

“Get back to me tonight. I have to go.” He clicks off his call before waiting to hear the response from the other end.

I run my hands over my hips. Kasia talked me into wearing this deep purple cocktail dress. The plunging V neckline dips enough that the swell of my breasts invites his stare to linger. The dress hits just above my knee, but the high heels lengthen my legs and give me some height.

Micah drops his phone onto the table on his way to me, his eyes latched onto mine. He prowls the same way I imagine a tiger stalks its dinner. There’s a flutter in my stomach at the determination in his eyes, and I want more.

“I’m sorry I’m a little late. Traffic was bad,” I say.

He reaches his hand to my chest and picks up the single diamond on my chain. My skin heats where his fingertips touched.

“Dimitri told me.” He thumbs the diamond. “Were you a good girl today, Lena?” he asks, dropping my necklace and arching a single eyebrow.

“I ordered a dress if that’s what you mean.”

“And your classes?” he prompts.

“I registered for three,” I answer.

“And your visit with Kasia?” He tilts my head back with his fingers beneath my chin. “You behaved?”

If Dimitri already informed him about the traffic, there’s no doubt he’s already tattled about my visit with my sister-in-law.

“I did.”

The dim lighting in the room casts his face in a shadow, giving him a more dangerous look than normal.

“The hostess said there’s a bottle of wine in here?” I say after too many moments tick by and he’s still staring down at me ready to take his first bite.

He releases my chin. “There is.”

I tear my gaze from him, looking over at the table. The places have already been set on each side of the table that could easily sit eight people. In the center is a tall vase filled with orchids, and two lit candles flank the vase on either side. A bottle of wine sits beside two empty wineglasses next to one place setting. I assume that’s where he’ll be sitting.

“Were you expecting a romantic dinner?” I ask with a smile when I bring my eyes back to his.

“When I said I wanted this room for us tonight the staff took it upon themselves,” he explains. “They did a good job.”

“Did you have a good day?” I change the subject. Romance isn’t necessary between us, and I won’t have him thinking that I’m any more of a princess he already considers me to be.

His eyebrows furrow together. “My day?” he asks as though the question confuses him.

“Yes. Did you have a good day? Your meetings. Work,” I repeat. Has no one ever bothered to ask this man about his day?

“It was-productive.”

I laugh. “Productive? Is that how you measure your days? If you’ve moved the needle or not?”

“How else do you suggest I measure it?” He tilts his head, genuinely curious.

I blank for moment. How would a high-ranking member of the Bratva measure his day?

“Did you have to kill anyone today?” I blurt the question.

His eyes go wide, shocked, probably that I had the stupidity to put those words together verbally. Once he recovers from my bluntness, his lips spread wide in a grin that produces a deep crease on the side of his mouth. The scar on his jaw even flickers with his amusement.

“No. No, I didn’t,” he answers, keeping his smile in place.

“Well, then I’d say you had a good day.” I shrug. “As well as everyone else in Chicago.”

He laughs; it’s a hearty sound, coming from the depth of his chest. Micah grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth where he kisses the inside of my wrist.

“My day was good, then. How was yours?” He leads me to the table, to the chair opposite the wine. I sit down as he holds the chair for me, tucking me in at the table before moving to his seat.

“I’ve already told you,” I remind him. “Can I have a glass?” I point at the wine. He’s sitting and not touching it.

He pours a glass for me and pushes it across to me. I have to reach for it but snag it without spilling. When I look back up at him, I catch his eyes fixating on my breasts.

In some ways, boys never stop being boys.

“Thank you.” I take a sip of the wine. No matter how many times he’s stared me down, every time feels like the first. My nerves might need more than a few sips of the warm red wine.

“You said what you did, you didn’t say how it was.” He waves his hand in the air and a hidden door behind him opens. Waiters fill the room, bringing us each a plated meal and fresh glasses of water. A basket of warm bread is placed on the table.

The aroma of the plate demands I take in the dish before me.

“Pierogi?” I pick up my fork. They’re smaller than I’ve had before, more round, but they smell similar.

“No. Pelmeni,” Micah corrects me. “A meat-filled dumpling.”

Heat hits my cheeks at my ignorance. Of course he wouldn’t serve a Polish meal at his restaurant.

“Right. It looks delicious,” I say, cutting into one of them. My mouth waters.

“So, how did your visit with Kasia go?” He repeats his question.

“It went all right,” I answer after I swallow the flavorful bite. “It will be nice to have a sister,” I add and take another sip of my wine.