Monstrous Urges: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance

“My, my.”

Her pale, violet eyes sweep over me appraisingly, a silvery-white brow cocked.

“You’ve really grown up, haven’t you?” Yelizaveta Solovyova’s lips twist up at the corners. “You look just like your mother, you know.”

A smile tugs at my mouth. I may not remember her at all—in fact, I only have a few old photos of my mom from my great-aunt—but it’s been a long, long time since anyone’s said that to me. Florence used to tell me the same thing.

We’re sitting—Drazen, Yelizaveta, and I—in one of the opulent, Mediterranean-styled courtyards of Drazen’s house. Two potted olive trees stand attention near the soft couches and chairs around the low table we’re all sitting at. A warm, soft ocean breeze wafts in from the arched doorways that lead out to a balcony over the cliffs.

I smile at the White Queen herself, who I know from my lessons with Yaelle is the head of the Solovyova Bratva. She’s also the de facto head of the Iron Table collective, even though technically no one family is in charge.

Still, Yelizaveta clearly has power that may rival even Drazen’s. Plus, she has the respect and loyalty of the Iron Table.

That’s why she’s here today. In a week, Drazen and I will attend the Zolotoye Zavtra—the “Golden Tomorrow”—Gala in Moscow. Ostensibly, it’s a fundraiser for Russian politicians to mingle with big-ticket political donors.

In reality, it’s a way for the families of the Iron Table to show off which politician they’ve each bought, like a huge flex. It’s there that I’ll have my first “outing” as Annika Brancovich and meet the members of the Table.

Yelizaveta, however, decided she wanted to meet with me alone before the gala. The translucently pale older woman sizes me up from across the table.

“Did you know my mother well, Ms. Solovyova?”

The White Queen, famously, never married.

“Slightly, yes,” she says coolly, taking a sip of her tea.

I shiver as Drazen leans back in the loveseat next to me, his muscled arm draping possessively over my shoulders, his hand resting on the far one.

Yelizaveta obviously notices. But she ignores it.

“Your father was actually my godson.”

My brow arches in genuine shock. “I…didn’t know that.”

“Well, you did,” she smiles politely. “At one point.”

My lips twist. “Apologies. I’m sure Drazen has filled you in on the gaps in my memory.”

“Gaps”. That’s what we’re calling them. Drazen thought it was best not to mention the complete loss of memory before the age of eighteen, and I agree. I still don’t know the exact specifics of his business with the Iron Table, but even without them, it’s obvious me having zero memory might complicate things.

“Yes, I was good friends with Drazen’s grandparents, on his father’s side. His mother’s side”…she chuckles to herself…“well, obviously not so much.”

The furrow in my brow catches her attention.

“You don’t remember?”

I shake my head. My entire being feels like it’s on edge, hanging on her every word for any scraps of my past she might be able to feed me.

“Your grandparents…” Yelizaveta makes a clucking sound of disapproval with her tongue. “They weren’t too happy about their daughter running off with a Serbian-Russian mafioso.”

So far, the only bits I’ve gleaned from Drazen about my mother is that she had red hair like me, was tall like me, and was American. So was our housekeeper, which I suppose explains why it is I speak with an American accent despite growing up mostly in Serbia.

In the last few weeks, I’ve tried to see if there’s any glimmer that comes back when I try to read or listen to Serbian. But there’s nothing. That part is still a total blank.

“Your mother’s family was…proper, as I gather,” Yelizaveta goes on. “I believe your grandfather was a tycoon or a senator or something. Old money, lots of connections.”

My eyes widen. “Do you know his name?”

She shakes her head. “No. I don’t even know your mother’s maiden name, I’m afraid,” she shrugs. “But I did meet her on a few occasions, and I always enjoyed her company. Take that as you will.”

I smile, feeling my heart swell a little.

Yelizaveta clears her throat, eying me coolly. “I’m a busy woman, Annika. As are you, I gather. A lawyer and all now, with a brand-new name.” Her brow cocks, like she’s amused by something, but she keeps going. “So I won’t waste any of our time by beating around the bush.” She looks right at me. “I’d like to know why you left your husband, have been missing for the better part of fifteen years, and why you’re living under a new name in New York.”

I’ve been expecting questions like this. It’s one of the things Yaelle, and later Drazen, has quizzed and coached me on. But hearing it spoken to my face is still jarring.

I take a breath, like I’m about to give final arguments in court.

“I was a different person back then, Ms. Solovyova. I thought I knew what I wanted and felt…pressured by my family.”

“Yes, well, welcome to the world of arranged marriages,” Yelizaveta drawls. “You can see why I never did.” She sighs, twirling her fingers in the air. “So, you married Drazen, and then you…what, got bored?”

“More like curious. I knew what I wanted to do, and in my naiveté , I didn’t see that happening as the wife of a Bratva pakhan.”

“Whom you’d been forced to marry.”

I dip my head. “As I said, I was young and naive.”

Yelizaveta smirks. “And smart. And, arguably, right. Sometimes, a woman has to change everything about herself, to become something else, in order to rise in a man’s world,” she spits coldly. Then she sighs, her gaze flipping to Drazen sitting next to me, who’s been oddly quiet. “Her being back certainly helps your case, Drazen. But the rest of the Table will certainly have questions and concerns about you, given that you allowed your wife to disappear from your life for fifteen years.”

“I…made mistakes, Ms. Solovyova,” I say quietly. “And I was very careful to make sure I wasn’t found.”

“And yet…” She eyes Drazen’s arm over my shoulder. “Here you are.”

I smile, reaching up to squeeze Drazan’s hand affectionately. Hs squeezes back, and when he does, I feel a jolt, my breath catching at the sheer power in his squeeze.

It’s more like a grab. A hostile takeover.

“People change.”

She nods. “Indeed. Well, Drazen,” she says to him. “As I mentioned, it certainly helps your petition to join the Iron Table.”

Abruptly, one of her guards walks briskly into the courtyard. He leans down to murmur something into Yelizaveta’s ear and hands her a phone. She nods, and then turns her attention to the two of us as her man leaves.

“Please excuse me for a moment. Business calls.”

Drazen nods as she stands, bringing the phone to her ear and muttering in Russian. She turns and walks through the arched stone doorways to the balcony overlooking the ocean.

“Why do you want to join the Iron Table?”

I can feel him stiffen, even though I haven’t turned to look at him. I’m just smiling, looking happy as can be, snuggled against my husband.

“I believe we discussed this,” Drazen growls.

“We discussed that it was none of my business.”

“Exactly,” he grunts brusquely.

“Yes, well, I’m making it my business.”

I smirk to myself. Then I’m gasping as he turns his attention fully to me. I can feel the heat and the wrath in his gaze as his eyes bore into the side of my skull.

“Careful, toy,” he growls quietly.

I keep my composure.

“You’re going to tell me the truth.”

“I promise you, that’s not happening,” he hisses.

“I wouldn’t make promises you have no way of keeping right now, husband,” I smirk, still looking forward. I see Yelizaveta out on the balcony, gesturing violently with her hands as she barks something I can’t hear from here into the phone. She turns, spotting me watching her. She flashes a quick smile and a wave.

I wave back, beaming.

“Tell me why you want onto the Table so bad, or when she walks back in here, I tell her everything.”

His grip on my shoulder turns malevolent, his powerful fingers digging into my skin painfully, sending warning alarms blaring through my head.

“How do you suppose she’ll react to me,” he grunts, “telling her about you⁠—”

“I think she’ll be a little more concerned about you bribing me to pretend to be your wife so that you can sneak⁠—”

“You are my⁠—”

“So that you can sneak,” I barrel on, “your way onto their Table.”

I finally turn toward him. Something sharp and cold ripples up my spine as his piercing blue eyes eviscerate me.

But I don’t scare easily.

“Tell me why you want onto that Table.”

“For the power it brings,” he grunts, smiling coldly at me.

I shake my head. “Again, the next time you kidnap a girl to use her for your own nefarious purposes, maybe make sure she’s not one of the top trial lawyers in New York, if not the top. That’s one reason you want on. But you already have more power than you could possibly know what to do with, and more money than you could ever spend.”

“No one has ever in the history of the world said no to more power,” he grunts.

“But that’s not why you want that seat, is it.”

I shiver, my spine snapping straight as he leans forward.

“Careful, little girl,” Drazen murmurs darkly. “You’re way out of your depth here.”

I smile sweetly. “No, little boy,” I whisper back. “I’m not.”

I glance over to where Yelizaveta is still yammering into her phone.

“Tell me.”

“Annika, I’m fucking warning you.”

Yelizaveta sighs as she hangs up the phone.

“Ooo, tick-tock,” I say quietly. “You know, I can’t wait to see her face when I tell her you bribed me to play along so you can scam your way⁠—”

“You will sorely regret this,” he snarls viciously.

“Later, maybe,” I shrug, grinning at him like we’re having a flirty little convo. Then I glance over to see Yelizaveta walking toward us. “But not until after I destroy whatever plans you have⁠—”

“Fine. Your family killed mine,” Drazen snaps coldly. “But the order to do so came from higher up.”

Yelizaveta is almost at the arches back into the courtyard.

“That man sits on the fucking Table. From the outside, I can do nothing. From the inside, I can turn them all against him, and watch as they tear him to pieces for me.”

Fucking hell. The way he says it so coolly, with zero emotion in his voice and a murderous glint in his eyes is scary.

…And pretty hot.

“Well,” Yelizaveta comes to a stop near the couch where she was previously sitting. “I’m afraid I have to be somewhere. Unless there’s anything else?”

Drazen turns to me, a smile on his face and malice in his eyes. His hand squeezes my shoulder tightly again.

“Yes, Annika,” he growls quietly. “Is there anything else?”

With a smile, I shake my head. “No, I don’t believe so, hon.” I turn to beam a thousand-watt grin at him.

Yelizaveta chuckles. “You can drop the theatrics. I’m old, not stupid. I know what this is,” she murmurs, eyeing me. “To be honest, I don’t care. I think Drazen is a good addition to the Table, regardless of the status of your marriage. But the other members”…her brow cocks meaningly as she looks at me…“the other men, won’t be so open-minded.”

She levels a gaze at the both of us.

“It’s not me you have to convince, Drazen. It’s them. And if I were you, I’d sell this…thing,” She smirks as she waves a finger between us. “To them a little bit better than you’ve tried selling it to me.”