The Devil's Angel : Mafia Underboss

Romance MMA (Someone to Fight For

Book 2) Cassi Hart
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 The Devil’s Angel
________________________
Someone to Fight For

Cassi Hart

Published by: Cheeky Publishing LLC

First Edition
Copyright © 2024 Cassi Hart– All rights Reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior
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products referenced status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used
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***
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Contents:
Free Book for You
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
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Other Books by Cassi
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 Chapter One
Luca

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

The familiar sounds of rough grunting from the men sparring in the cage followed by loud cheers from the watching
crowd causes a yawn to overtake me.
This is a typical Tuesday for me, and back in my early twenties, I would’ve been in the crowd watching the fight and
placing reckless bets. Fueled by adrenaline, I most likely would have joined the fighting too, stupidly challenging the biggest
man in the room.
Nothing would have stopped the self-assured twenty-year-old me from hopping into the cage and fighting men twice my
size, but those days are long gone.
Back then, I wanted to impress the Rossi family, and to say I succeeded would be an understatement.
Not only did I impress the Italian mob boss who owns this underground fight club and operates most of the city’s illegal
businesses, but I became the underboss by the time I was twenty-nine. These days, I run the very place I used to fight in.
Now, I am just a grumpy, thirty-five year old son of a bitch whose name is enough to elicit fear in everyone in the city.
Although no one talks about it, my name carries more weight than those of the people I work for. I have more connections and a
reputation that rivals the devil’s.
The Rossi family would be nothing without me. They know. I know it. Everyone knows it.
I manage most of their illegal businesses, and unlike my boss’s spoiled brat of a son, I actually get shit done. I take care
of the cops, so they don’t come sniffing around, and I am not afraid to strike back twice as hard against a rival family if they
dare infringe on our territory.
Which brings me back to what I am doing here tonight.
The Russians have been causing trouble along our borders by selling drugs on our turf and need to be stopped before
they get too cocky. Tonight, I am meant to be recruiting more men into the Rossi crime family, but I am bored out of my mind
watching the kids in the cage below my office window circle each other like hyenas, afraid to pounce but unwilling to show
weakness by leaving the cage.
Pathetic.
I breathe out a sigh and shake my head, taking a long drag of my cigar. I blow thick smoke into the air as I watch the kids
throw weak punches at each other.
Whatever happened to the good old days when people walked into cages with their mouths foaming, ready to fight? The
last good fight I witnessed was a couple of weeks ago with Hawk, but that was before he found himself a pretty girl and
decided to retire from the cage. Not that I would have been able to recruit a man like Hawk anyway, but at least he made the
fights interesting. I can’t believe he let something as foolish as love take him out of the game.
The sound of the phone ringing is a welcome reprieve from the joke happening on the floor below me.
“Boss,” I say as soon as the phone is at my ear.
“The Russians sent another message,” Matteo Rossi rasps into the speaker. “I am told they intend to stay in our territory
and continue selling drugs here.”
His words bring me pause, and I drop the cigar into my glass of whiskey. “I doubt they would be that bold, Boss. Getting
into a turf war with us is a bad idea. We have more manpower than they do.”
“Soon, that will not be the case. Their youngest daughter has been promised to the Albanian boss.”
I sit up with a start, the words sending a chill to my core. The Russians and the Albanians get along about as well as
water with oil, but I know they would not hesitate to join forces if it means taking down a common enemy.
“An alliance through marriage,” I say, my voice carrying none of the confidence it did a moment ago. I get up from my
seat and start pacing the small room, my head running through all the possible scenarios as to how to handle this.
The Russian and Albanian organizations joining forces could be devastating for everyone. I have complete trust in our
men, but this could only mean bloodshed, and the streets are not ready for that.
My eyes cross to the men fighting in the cage below, and I shake my head in disappointment. It’s obvious I cannot depend
on the new generation to win a fight in the streets when they can’t fucking land a punch in a cage!
“I trust you’ll take care of it, Luca.” Matteo’s parting words drag me from my thoughts.
Walking back out onto the iron balcony outside my office door, I drop the phone to the side table and dip my hands into
my pockets, my thoughts on how I can make sure these two families do not come into an alliance. My eyes narrow on the men
we’re vetting for recruitment under the guise of a typical cage fight, and I can’t help the trickle of concern that creeps down my
back. Sending any of these men out into a potential gang war would be signing their death warrants.
These kids would not survive a night in the streets.
I am tempted to storm down there, climb into the cage, and show them what a real fight looks like when I see her.
I freeze.
The wild mop of red hair comes out of nowhere, drawing my attention from the cage to her and leaving me stunned, a
rare feat, I might add. I catch a glimpse of her for only a brief moment before she disappears. I draw my hands from my pockets
and grab the railing in front of me, leaning forward for a better view, but I don’t see her when I look down.
Are you fucking kidding me!
Am I so stressed out that I’ve started hallucinating, or is there really a woman here? I made it clear to my men not to let
anyone unknown into the building tonight, and bringing a woman into a room full of animals is inviting trouble. I already have
enough to deal with the Russian mob, and now this! If indeed there is a woman here, then someone is going to pay tonight.
I might be going back into the cage after all.
With an angry growl, I push away from the railing and storm to the stairs. One of my men rushes forward, shrinking back
when I throw him a menacing scowl. “Boss . . . is something wrong?”
“There is a woman here. Red hair. Find her!” I snap. “And then bring me the person who let her in!”
The man pauses, and I watch as his face goes sheet white. He has every reason to be scared of what I will do when we
find the woman. Unless there is a man with long, pretty red locks, someone is facing me in the cage tonight.
I walk away from him and start in the direction I spied the redhead run. For the sake of my men, they better hope I
imagined her, but . . . there she goes again.
I catch the streak of red hair again when someone in the crowd moves out of the way, and this time, I don’t spare a
second as I rush toward her, grabbing her by her wrist before she can make her way through the crowd of men.
“Hey!” she cries out when I spin her around, steel-gray eyes locking on mine, and . . . I forget how to breathe.
For a long minute, my lungs refuse to function as I stare down at the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and her
innocent eyes stare back at me with something akin to curiosity, not an ounce of fear on her face.
I find myself lost in those glittering eyes, and I forget where the fuck we are or the fact that this pretty little thing should
not be here. I am held in a trance by a book's definition of a siren. Every moment I spend staring at her, I find myself drawn
deeper, and it’s not until she speaks that I am snapped out of whatever spell she’s cast on me.
“You’re hurting me,” she whispers, tugging at her wrist, but I don’t let go.
“What are you doing here?” I say gruffly, my voice coming out scratchier than I’ve heard it before.
“None of your business!” she snarks, but I notice whatever bravado I read on her face is now gone. Her brave attitude
slips further away the longer I stare down at her. “Let go of me!”
“Not until you tell me who you are and what you are doing here.”
“I . . . I don’t . . .” she stammers before quickly collecting herself. “Why do I have to tell you anything?”
“Because I am the man in charge. Now stop wasting time, little girl, and answer me. You won’t like what happens if I
have to repeat myself.”
“Oh,” she whispers, eyes widening as she bites into her bottom lip. “I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed here.”
She’s stalling.
I notice something else I missed when I was drowning in my desire for her. She has a little bit of an accent to her voice. I
would have missed it if it wasn’t my job to notice such things.
Russian.
The thought puts me on high alert, and I tighten the grip I have on her wrist, pulling her away from the curious looks
we’re drawing and toward the stairs that lead up to my office. I ignore her protests as I drag her along, closing the door and
locking it once we’re inside.
“Hey, what are you doing? You have no right—”
“Ivanov,” I spit out, the name leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. “You are from the Ivanov family.”
“So, what about it?” she says stubbornly, falling back into her pretense of bravado as she folds her arms over her chest,
pushing up her breasts and drawing attention to her cleavage. My cock fills up in an instant, and I can’t help that my eyes drop
to her generous tits. She’s wearing a low-cut top that reveals her long, elegant neckline and exposes the perfect swell of her
breasts.
“Did they send you?” I ask, lifting my eyes back to hers. “Think carefully before you answer, little girl.”
“Stop calling me that, I’m twenty-one,” she protests with a pout that I want to lean in and bite. “No one sent me.”
“Don’t lie to me—”
“Hey, you are the one who grabbed me from the crowd and dragged me up here without a word. I don’t even know you!”
“Enough!” I growl, stepping up to her and grabbing her throat, but I don’t apply pressure with my grip. I’ve never hurt a
woman in my life, and I am not about to start with her, but if she is a spy sent by the Ivanov family, she made a dangerous
choice showing up here. I will not spare her just because she has . . . alluring eyes, soft velvety lips I long to taste, and a tight
body I can only imagine backing to the wall and fucking well into the night.
No, I will not think about that.
“I really don’t know what you’re talking about. No one sent me here!”
“Try again.”
I refuse to budge from the fear I read in her eyes as she blinks up at me. Her pulse jumps against my hand, which only
has my heart hammering in time with the throbbing of my cock, but I am not about to let this pretty little thing disarm me or . . .
Tempt me.
“I don’t want any trouble,” she whispers, her fingers closing over mine as she swallows deeply. “I’m sorry I came, I’ll
leave now.”
“You’re not going anywhere until I’ve gotten answers.”
“Why are you being so mean to me?” She sniffs. “I’ve heard girls can watch the fights too. One of the fighters met his
wife here!”
Right, Hawk meeting his wife here was news for a while after they got together and again when he retired, but tonight is
not a normal fight. Tonight is meant to recruit men into the family. No one unaffiliated with the Rossi family should have been
allowed in. The fact that she’s here screams “spy,” and I refuse to fall into her trap.
“I will ask one last time, who are you and what is your business here?” I shout, my patience running low.
“Katya,” she whimpers. “My name is Katya Ivanov.”
Her words take me by surprise, but I don’t show it.
She can’t be.
Surely the Ivanov family would not be so careless as to let this precious jewel out of their sight, would they?
“What is Viktor Ivanov’s youngest daughter doing in Rossi territory?” I growl, and I see it in her eyes the moment my
words settle in.
Guilt with a heavy dose of fear.
“I-I . . . I need help.” Her words are uttered so quietly, I almost don’t catch them. I still can’t quite believe what I’ve
heard.
Oh.
This little Bratva princess, the most precious jewel of the Ivanov family, just walked into the lion's den and solved all
my problems.
My lips stretch in a grin as the truth sets in. “Didn’t your Daddy ever teach you not to seek help from monsters, little
girl?”
 Chapter Two
Katya

As I stare into the man’s emotionless dark eyes, I feel cold fear flow through my veins for the first time in my life.
Of course, this was a terrible idea. How could I have been so reckless as to think that the Rossi family’s underboss
would want to help me, the daughter of the Russian pakhan? I am a straight-A student and I have grown up listening to my
father’s stories about the hotheaded Italians. I should have known better. I did know better, but I was desperate. I thought
nothing could be worse than the fate my father is prepared to subject me to, but looking into this man’s eyes, I realize I’ve made
a grave mistake.
My family is going to kill me for this, if this giant of a man doesn’t beat them to it.
I must’ve done something in my previous life to warrant this kind of punishment because I know I’ve been nothing but
good in this one. For twenty-one years, I’ve been nothing short of a perfect daughter, going above and beyond for everyone.
When I was ten years old, my grandfather’s favorite cellist had an accident and couldn’t play anymore, so what did I do?
I begged my parents to enroll me in music classes where I learned how to play the cello and the piano. All my teachers loved
me because I was hard-working and never missed a day of school. I even snagged myself a scholarship to Juilliard in an effort
to make my family proud, and what do I get in return?
The very people I worked so hard to make proud just sold me off to a seventy-year-old man.
See, when my father told me this morning that he wanted to speak to me, I figured he was going to congratulate me for
finishing top in class and tell me he was going to cancel his plans, so he could attend my upcoming showcase. To my
disappointment, he couldn’t care less about my performance, but that was no real surprise. I never expected him to care even
less about my life, though.
My heart cracked in two when he told me it was my duty to our family that I marry a man old enough to be my
grandfather. And for what?
To strengthen our family’s criminal ties.
I have nothing to do with any of it. I’ve never been involved in my family’s shady businesses, and yet, they choose to use
me like this?
Why me?
I mean, sure, all of my siblings are married, but still . . . why me?
I thought being a good daughter was enough to earn my family’s love but apparently not. They care so little that they
would sell me off to an old man, and not just any old man, but the leader of the Albanian crime family. A man known for his
cruel nature.
Hell, even my older siblings thought that it was a good plan and called me selfish when I said I wouldn’t do it.
Their agreement was the final straw that pushed me to rebel for the first time in my life and come to this underground
fighting club, right into the hands of the Italian Mafia.
Despite what my family thinks, I’m not some naive little girl. I know why my father promised me to Anton Berisha. He
wants an alliance between the Russians and the Albanians, something I know the Italians would do anything to prevent. My
plan was to come here and find one of the Rossi family capos and ask for sanctuary. If my family cannot find me, they cannot
force me to marry Anton.
Finding this place was the easiest part. I’ve heard my brothers talk about all the cage fights that happen here and how
many men gather here to watch fights and sometimes even bring their girlfriends with them.
The last thing I expected was to encounter Luca Ricci, the Rossi family underboss and the most feared man in the city.
When he’d grabbed my wrist and spun me around, I’d recognized my father’s greatest enemy immediately.
“I-I’m sorry, I’ll just go,” I whisper, my heart pounding so fast it threatens to burst from my chest. Nothing my father will
do to me could possibly compare the things I’ve heard about this man. “I promise I’ll leave. Please don’t hurt me!”
“I don’t believe for a second that you came here for help. Why are you really here?”
“I’m sorry,” I say again, tears rolling silently down my cheeks, my chest growing tight as my throat closes up, and
suddenly, I can’t breathe. “I—”
 He catches me before I can drop to the floor, lowering me gently as I fight to catch my breath. “Slowly,” he says in a
soothing tone I would have never guessed him capable of as he rubs circles over my back. “Slow, deep breaths, princess.
Don’t pass out on me.”
I dig my fingers into the arms he has wrapped around me as I fight not to choke on air, the soothing motions on my back
and the deeply growled assurances ease the ache in my chest but not completely. “P-please . . .”
“I won’t hurt you,” Luca says roughly, his voice sending a calming sensation to my chest. “No one is going to hurt you.”
“Okay,” I whisper, falling slack against him as my lungs resume functioning. I can’t explain it, but something about him
makes me trust what he says. We stay on the cold floor locked in silence, the sound of cheers and rough grunts from down
below echoing through the room.
“I won’t hurt you,” he says again, finally shattering the tense silence. “But you know I can’t let you go, right?”
“Why not?” I whisper, panic swelling in my chest once more. “I promise I didn’t mean any harm. I’m not here to spy. I
won’t say anything to anyone if you let me go. No one knows I came here, and no one will.”
Luca doesn’t respond, and I figure he’s mulling it over, but my hope comes crashing down when he shakes his head. “I
cannot let you leave here and marry the Albanian.”
My head whips around to look at him. “How do you know about that?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything as he helps me to my feet. My instinct is to thank him, but then I remember
the situation I am in and decide to keep quiet, wishing again that I had stayed safely at home.
The thought brings me pause.
There is no telling how long I would be in that home before I’d have to move in with my husband as his fourth wife. The
thought of sharing my bed with the man I’ve been promised to sends a shiver through my body.
“Let’s go,” Luca says, grabbing my wrist, but I dig my heels into the floor.
“Where are we going?” No way am I going anywhere with this man unless he promises to drive me home. “You said you
wouldn’t hurt me.”
“I stand by that,” he says firmly. “I am not going to let anyone else hurt you either, but until I know what to do with you, I
am keeping you with me.”
“What? No!” I cry, grabbing his hand with my left and trying to pry his grip off me. How can he be so casual about
kidnapping me?
“You have two options: be a good little girl and follow me out quietly or continue to be stubborn, and I will be forced to
carry you out. Either way, you are leaving with me.”
My jaw goes slack, fear giving way to anger. “You can’t do that . . . This is illegal!”
“You are smarter than that, princess.”
Shit. He’s right, of course.
I can’t exactly call the police, as that will only make it worse for everyone, myself especially. Hell, I didn’t even bring
my phone with me, afraid my father would use it to track and stop me.
Even so, I can’t let this . . . this . . . rogue kidnap me.
I shake my head, which makes him narrow his eyes at me. Then a wicked smile spreads across his face, sending shivers
dancing over my skin. “Looks like we’re going with option two.”
Luca lets go of my hand and leans down to grab my knees before easily lifting me over his broad shoulders, taking me by
surprise, and for a full second, I don’t know how to react. I feel the firm grip on my legs as he carries me out of the room like I
weigh nothing.
“Put me down,” I cry, punching his back as he carries me down the stairs. “I will scream if you don’t let go of me.”
The man calls my bluff because he doesn’t say a word as he takes me through a private door beneath the stairs. The men
guarding the stairs don’t even blink as we pass. I kick my feet in an attempt to get him to put me down, but he swats my ass, and
I go still, not from the move but from the strange, pulsing heat that throbs between my legs.
I am so mortified by my body’s reaction that I don’t speak another word until we’re outside and he’s putting me down
next to a car. He opens his car door and nods at it. “Get in.”
“If my father finds out that you took me, he will raise hell—”
 “You just said no one knows you’re here,” he says smugly.
Damnit!
“I lied,” I argue weakly, but he must read the truth in my eyes because he simply grunts, nodding again at the open door.
“Get in.”
I throw a look into the car and sniff. “What are you going to do with me?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but you’ll be safe while you’re with me as long as you behave.”
I swallow hard and take a half step away from the car. “What does that mean, behave? What do you expect me to do?”
His eyes darken impossibly further and he steps closer, forcing me back toward the car until I’m pressed against it. He
braces one arm on either side of me and leans in so his breath ghosts over my ear. “I expect you to do what you’re told. But
don’t worry, princess, I promise you’ll enjoy it.”
My chest heaves as I draw in unsteady breaths, and he’s so close, my breasts nearly brush the fabric of his shirt. My
body feels strung tight, and my eyes dart around him over the dark parking lot.
“No one is going to help you even if they come across us, Katya,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. “You have to know
that everyone in this part of the city answers to me.”
I swallow deeply as I lift my eyes to his much darker ones, and I lose a bit of myself in them. They are nearly black, like
the sea on a stormy night and just as mesmerizing. Under the streetlight, they carry a hint of a challenge, and I am under no
delusion that this man is dangerous, but . . . something about him calls to me, pulls me in.
A part of me wants to leave with him, to take my chances with this enigmatic devil. If he let me go back home, I would
be walking into an arranged marriage. This man offers a chance at an uncertain future, one that could potentially be dangerous,
but at least I won’t end up in the arms and bed of a cruel old man.
Maybe leaving with him won’t be so terrible.
“You promised . . .” I start, chewing at my lips as I ponder my decision a little more. “You promise you won’t hurt me?”
“You have my word.”
I nod, climbing into the car, my nerves fraying when he locks the door behind me. I wait until he’s circled around to his
own side and climbed in before speaking again. “Where are you going to take me?” I ask.
“You’ll come back to my apartment with me.” He must see me stiffen because he adds, “I assure you that you’ll be
treated with respect as long as you behave yourself.”
“So, I’ll be like a guest rather than a captive?” I wince at the unintended edge of sarcasm in my tone.
Luca’s lips tip up in a self-satisfied grin. “No, princess. You’ll be treated like what you are . . . mine.”
As he pulls away from the curb, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve simply traded one monster for another.
 Chapter Three
Luca

Katya is suspiciously silent as I drive down the city streets toward my apartment. She’s been awfully quiet since I told
her that she is mine. I can only imagine the whirlwind of emotions she must be feeling. The little Bratva princess now in the
clutches of her father’s enemy.
She knows who I am. It was obvious she recognized me immediately, and her reaction told me she is familiar with my
reputation. I’m sure her father and older brothers have had plenty to say about me over the years.
From what I’ve heard, Katya is not directly involved with her family’s business, but it would be impossible for her to be
totally ignorant. Katya has a reputation as the perfect, obedient daughter. She must know how dangerous it was for her to cross
into Rossi territory. And she still took that risk.
Which makes me wonder how obedient she really is. She has the red hair and gray eyes characteristic of descendants
from the Volga region of Russia. There is no mistaking her ancestry. I can’t help but wonder if she has the fiery temperament
stereotypical of redheads. My cock pulses in my pants at the thought of this beautiful girl misbehaving.
Fuck! I want her.
I would be smart not to allow myself to fall into temptation with the daughter of a rival family and muck up the waters
further. This sexy human is forbidden to me, and I would best remember that.
“What did you mean when you said you came to the club seeking help?” I ask if only to fill up the heavy tension in the
car.
“I was looking for sanctuary,” she whispers reluctantly. “I had hoped to find a capo who would agree to hide me until
my father gave up trying to force me into marrying the Albanian.”
Taking a deep breath, I fight to calm the sudden rage that courses through my veins at the thought of this soft, innocent girl
marrying the brutish Anton Berisha. Not even marriage could save his previous wives from his cruelty. How could her family
subject her to such a fate? It’s no wonder she came to the club, misguided though she was.
“It wouldn’t have worked,” I tell her, and her gaze darts to my face with a look of surprise. She might be Bratva royalty,
but my little princess clearly doesn’t understand how mob politics works. “Offering you sanctuary will cause a gang war.
Anton will be insulted and no doubt do whatever it takes to help your father get you back. They will form an alliance over it,
and we’ll either be forced to give you back or fight it out in the streets. Either way, it won’t save you from being forced to
marry the Albanian the moment your father has you back.”
I glance over at her as I speak and see the color drain for her face. The thought of Katya enduring such a fate sends bile
rising up my throat, and I bite back the urge to promise her that she is mine and nothing will happen to her . . . except she’s not.
And when Matteo finds out that I have Katya Ivanov, he’ll be furious. But he did tell me to stop the alliance between the
Russians and Albanians. Keeping Katya is the key to do that. I just have to figure out a way to do that without risking an all-out
gang war.
“Does that mean you’re going to send me back to my father?” she asks meekly.
I shake my head. “No. I promised to keep you safe. If I give you back to your father and you marry Anton, the Italians
won’t stand a chance against the combined forces of the Russians and the Albanians. It’s a lose-lose. If I give you back, there
will be war. If I keep you, there will be war. Your father has been trying to find a way to push us out of the city for decades.
You’re the key to his success.”
You’re just a pawn in his game, I think, but I don’t say it.
“Maybe when they learn I am missing, they’ll realize they made a mistake, grow worried, and cancel their plans to
marry me off.” There’s so much naive hope in her voice, it makes my gut tighten.
“You don’t really believe that, though, do you, princess?” I ask. She doesn’t respond, but her shoulders slump and she
slides lower in the seat, turning her head to stare unseeingly out the window.
I know how she feels. She isn’t the first to have been betrayed by her own family. Hell, my own father sold me to Matteo
Rossi to pay off his debts when I was only twelve years old. I was meant to be Matteo’s errand boy until I grew old enough to
serve as a soldier. But the old man took a liking to me and took me under his wing. He molded me into the man I am today,
becoming more of a father to me than the sperm-donor who sold me off ever was.
We’re silent for the rest of the trip, and as I drive into the underground parking lot of my building complex, I refuse to
think of how bad of an idea this is.
I should’ve taken her straight to Matteo so he could decide what to do with her, maybe he could ransom her back to her
father or Anton, but . . .
Mine!
She is mine!
Whatever happens, I know I won’t be letting her go, even if Matteo tells me to. I’ll figure out some way to keep her and
avoid this war. No matter what it takes.
I ignore the voice at the back of my head as I turn to the woman in my passenger’s seat. “I am taking you up to my
penthouse until I figure out what to do with you.”
I wonder how long it would take for Anton to lose patience with Viktor Ivanov and walk away from the alliance and
marriage. Can I drag out negotiations for her return long enough to wear Anton down? Probably not. Anton and Viktor know
that their combined resources make them more powerful than us. But without a marriage, any alliance between them would be
weak.
An idea begins to form and I turn to the beautiful girl in my passenger seat as I shift the car into park. “How old are
you?”
She seems surprised by my question, but answers quickly. “I’m twenty-one.” She looks younger than that with her pale,
blemish-free skin and wide, innocent eyes. Good. She’s old enough to make her own choices.
I climb out of the car and walk around to her side, pulling open the door and helping her out. I don’t release my hold on
her arm once she’s standing next to me, instead using my grip to guide her toward the bank of elevators.
“How long will I have to stay with you?” she asks. “I have school and showcase coming up. I can’t just stay locked up in
your apartment.”
She really has no idea what’s happening to her. A feeling dangerously close to sympathy slices through me, but I push it
away. I can’t allow this girl to make me soft. Not when the stakes are so high.
She steps into the elevator ahead of me, and I fall behind, my eyes dropping to her jean clad ass, and I have to fight the
need to reach out and trace my hand over her perfect mounds. She turns around, and that snaps me out of my daydream. I step to
her side before pressing my keycard against the scanner.
“You are staying with me until it’s all sorted out.”
“I will lose my scholarship if I miss classes.”
“That’s not something you need to worry about.”
In fact, losing her scholarship will be the least of her worries if she is caught by anyone from either of the three mob
families. She is safest with me. But I can see by the way she twists her fingers in front of her and bites on her lower lip that this
thought worries her. She’s showing more concern over her schooling than she did over the prospect of marrying a monster.
Looking at her in the reflection of the elevator doors, I silently vow to do whatever it takes to ensure that she’s able to stay in
school.
The elevator doors slide open to reveal my lavish penthouse. The scent of luxury is still something I am not used to after
growing up in poverty. The high floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the breathtaking city view still feels foreign to the kid
who used to sleep in a little shoebox apartment with five other people.
Katya follows me across the polished marble floors and past the modern artwork adorning the walls. She doesn’t spare
any of it a glance. But when she reaches the living room, she stops dead.
“You play the piano!” She jumps, rushing past me to the grand piano in the corner of the living room. All of her earlier
anxiety is washed away as she settles on the bench and lightly draws her delicate fingers along the lines of the piano. I follow
her into the living room, settling on the plush velvet sofa as my little prisoner traces the keys with her petite fingers, and I can’t
help but picture those fingers on me.
And how those neatly kept nails would feel scratching their way up my back as I thrust my fat cock into her and mark her
as mine. My cock swells in my slacks, pushing hard against my fly as I picture her trembling fingers braced on the piano, body
shaking with pleasure as I fuck her from behind...
I shake my head to be rid of the image, and instead, focus on what she’s doing. There is an easy smile on her pretty lips
as she presses a single key before swinging around to look at me, and suddenly, all I have in my head are thoughts of us
together on the small bench, the little redhead riding my cock as she plays the piano.
 Fuck!
I can’t think about this now. I didn’t bring her here to sleep with her. There would be hell to pay for touching her, but she
makes it hard for me to think of anything but her perfect body.
Everything about her tempts me.
“Luca?”
I look up, and our eyes lock. She must read something in my gaze because she gasps, and I figure I must’ve been
unsuccessful at hiding the heat swimming in them.
“Did you say something?” I rasp, my voice thick with desire for this forbidden fruit. My cock is hard and aching, and I
know it’s only going to get worse.
“I asked if you play the piano,” she repeats.
“I don’t,” I say, rising from my seat and walking toward her. “The person I hired to design this place said the piano
added a touch of sophistication to the room.”
“That’s an expensive ‘touch’ to add to a room,” she says breathily when I lean against the piano, and I can tell that she
can feel the tension between us too.
“It was,” I agree nonchalantly.
It would take so little effort to reach down and touch her, skim my fingers over her rosy cheeks and watch those molten
eyes flutter to a close. So easy to erase the distance between us and sweep her lips into mine with a kiss I know we both want,
but . . . I can’t do that.
Katya could be either the key to my future or my downfall. Everything hangs in the balance. There are three ruthless mob
bosses who would do anything to put their hands on her. And If touch her, I’ll never let her go. I will make her mine.
Mine!
I shake my head in an attempt to silence the needy voice at the back of my mind, but it doesn’t do much as the voice only
grows louder, demanding that I claim what belongs to me.
I found her, so she is mine!
Damn my boss and the rest of the old relics that only want to use her for their own gain!
Mine!
“Luca.” My eyes shoot to hers, and there is little I can do to hide just how much I want her. But where I expect to read
fear, I see curiosity. “Uhm . . . Can I take a shower and get some rest? You’ll allow me that at least, right?”
I nod, afraid of what I will say if I speak. I turn around and start walking down the hall, and I hear her steps follow after
me. I am half tempted to lead her to the master bedroom but show her to the guest room instead.
I push open the door and move aside for her to walk in. “Everything you need is in the bathroom, help yourself.”
I turn around to leave, but Katya grabs my arm before I can make my hasty exit. “W-wait, you’re leaving?”
I look down at her hand and up at her wide, innocent eyes, and it takes every last bit of control in me not to push her into
the wall and kiss her. “I have some things I need to take care of in my office,” I say instead.
“But what if I need you?”
Fuck me!
The way she says that word. Need. She’s not helping with my control.
“Goodnight, Katya,” I say gruffly, and she must see the danger she’s in because she lets go of my hand and moves back. I
walk away without another word, hoping I’ll be able to get the hell out of here without losing my goddamned mind and doing
something I can’t take back.
 Chapter Four
Katya

I can’t sleep.
Blame it on the unfamiliar bed and the eerie silence this place carries. Without Luca’s heavy presence, the apartment
feels like a mausoleum. In this bedroom, it feels like I am the only person in the world . . . and I hate it. I’ve never been alone
before. If my parents or siblings weren’t around, I was constantly shadowed by my father’s goons tasked with ensuring I never
stepped a toe out of line. It had been hell getting off my father’s property without being seen.
Counting sheep has done nothing to help with sleep. The milk from Luca’s kitchen did even less, and now, I am stuck in
his living room, playing the piano idly.
I want Luca.
I frown at the sudden thought, possibly fueled by the loneliness I am feeling, but I know that’s not exactly true. Wanting
Luca with me has little to do with loneliness. I have always been a lonely child despite being constantly surrounded by people.
My siblings are all from my father’s first marriage and decades older than me. They’ve never wanted anything to do with
me. And all my schoolmates are scared of me because of my family’s reputation. So no, wanting Luca here has nothing to do
with loneliness and everything to do with how he looks at me. No one has ever really seen me before. But when Luca looks at
me, I know he does.
He looks at me like he wants me.
No, he doesn’t just want me. He looks at me like he craves me . . . my touch, my attention. It’s a strange feeling. No one
has ever wanted me before.
No one has ever looked at me the way he does . . .
I’m not naive. Well, I am in some cases as tonight has so blatantly proven, but when it comes to why Luca wants me, I
am not so blind as to miss the way he openly checks out my body, even when he thinks I am not looking.
I know he wants me in ways a man would a woman they’re attracted to. Just thinking about it sends a blush creeping up
my cheeks.
“Snap out of it, Katya,” I whisper, placing my forearm arm over the piano before dropping my head onto it. I run my
fingers over the keys, playing the notes I first learned when I started taking lessons. I lose myself in the soft melodies that fill
the room and occupy the empty part of my soul. I only stop when my fingers start to cramp.
I push back from the piano and stretch my arms over my head, my eyes shooting up to the clock on the wall, and I gasp
when I notice it’s already two in the morning.
Where is Luca? Is he still in his office? In his bed?
My sex throbs at the thought of Luca in his bed. Does he sleep naked with all his muscles and tattoos on display? I shake
my head and mentally scold myself for my thoughts. How stupid. Not only is Luca much older than me, he’s gorgeous and could
have any woman he wants. He might find me attractive, but he’d never truly want the daughter of his worst enemy.
I figure I might as well head back and try to catch sleep, perhaps count more sheep if I can’t fall asleep, but when I turn
around, it’s to find a dark figure seated on the sofa.
“Sweet Jesus!” I jump back, startled, and bump into the piano. My heart is racing so fast I am half afraid it’ll pump its
way out of my chest. “L-Luca, you scared me!”
The man silently watches me from his couch, and I can’t help but notice that he looks like the TV version of a perfect
Italian mob boss, with neatly styled, dark wavy hair a little longer at the top and wearing slacks and a black shirt with the
sleeves cuffed around his elbows, exposing his heavily tattooed arms. I didn’t get a good look at Luca when we first met, too
busy trying to get away from the man, but now that I am calmer, I can’t help but admire how his muscles are perfectly
highlighted by his form-fitting clothes.
I’m not the only one doing some ogling as Luca runs his eyes over my body with such undiluted hunger, it gives him a
predatory air. I follow his eyes down my body and gasp when I see the belt on my robe has come loose and it’s falling open. I
rush to retie the belt, but the damage has already been done.
“Uhm . . . when did you come in?” I whisper, trying to back up, but there is nowhere to go. I am trapped between the man
on the couch and his grand piano.
 “I came in a while ago, but you were playing so beautifully, I didn’t want to interrupt you,” he replies, but he doesn’t
move a muscle. I can read the tension in his eyes and in the way his jaw is clenched.
“Right . . . I . . . uhm, I guess I will go to bed now.”
“Don’t move!” It’s not a request, and I don’t take it as one. “Sit back down.”
I drop back to the bench, but instead of facing the piano, I am facing him. My heart is racing so fast, I bet he can hear it
from his place on the couch. “Luca . . .”
“You know why I had to leave you earlier, right?” he says, his face blank.
“You said—”
“Forget what I said,” he grinds out roughly, his voice deeper than it had been earlier. “I had to leave before I gave into
my desire to bend you over the piano and fuck you senseless.”
Oh God.
My cheeks flush deeper at his words, and I break our eye contact. “Luca . . .”
“You have to know the things you do to me, Katya, don’t you?” I spy his hand on his lap, and I follow it to the massive
bulge in his pants. “Or else you wouldn’t have stayed up late and come out here . . . dressed like that.”
I cross my legs and draw my robe tighter around me. I didn’t have anything else to put on, but I don’t think Luca will
care to hear my reason. “I—”
“I tried to stay away,” he says hoarsely. “But like a siren, your presence kept calling me back.”
I shouldn’t like that as much as I do. My skin feels like it’s burning, and it’s all I can do to keep myself rooted to the
bench. “Luca, I . . .”
“Drop the robe, princess,” Luca demands gruffly, and my eyes shoot over to him in shock, but he seems serious. “You
have until I count to five to make up your mind. Run to your room, little girl . . . Once I have my hands on you, you’re mine.”
I chew my lips as I mull over his options, but I don’t really have a choice. Despite knowing who Luca is, I want this man
and whatever attention he’s willing to give me, but . . . to get naked for him?
I have never stripped for a man before. The reminder of my own inexperience presses down on me like a weight on my
shoulders.
“Five.”
My breath catches in my throat when he starts slowly stalking toward me like a lion on the hunt. My entire body heats,
just as it did when he cornered me at the club. If anything, my body’s reaction is stronger this time, my fingers trembling with
the compulsion to give in to this man’s desire.
“Four.”
Luca is perfect in every sense of the word with the body of a Roman god and a face meant to draw women to temptation,
but . . .
“Three.”
Can I really do this? Luca is my father’s enemy and that’s really all I know about the man. Letting him have me would be
a betrayal to my family.
But do I even own my family my loyalty? Hadn’t they betrayed me first?
“Two.”
I should get up and leave. Run to my room and pretend this never happened.
“One.”
With my heart in my throat, I tug at the ties, and the robe slips open to reveal my beaded nipples and drenched folds. My
fingers are shaky as I slip the robe off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor, leaving me completely bare to Luca’s heated
gaze.
“I . . . I’ll stay,” I whisper shyly, watching his features harden as he runs his eyes over me, leaving a tingling sensation on
every spot his gaze touches.
“Sit on the bench and part your legs for me, princess” he commands, palming the massive bulge in his pants. “Show me
that wet pussy.”
 I bite my lip and do as he says, spreading my legs shyly to expose the evidence of my arousal, and he makes a deep,
hoarse sound that goes straight to my damp, pulsing sex. His eyes darken and nostrils flare, and I don’t need to look down to
tell what’s got him this way. Not when I am this wet. Not when I can feel the evidence of my own arousal on my thighs, wetter
than I have ever thought I could possibly get, but Luca did this to me.
With his body, his hungry gaze, and his deep husky voice.
“Damn,” he growls. “Look how slick you are, princess, and I haven’t even touched you.”
His words send a hot shiver coursing through my body and moisture gathering at my sex, and I long to hide the effect this
man has on me even with the distance between us, but I am helpless to him. It shames me deeply, but I know I would give
anything he asks of me. The fact that I just met him and know little to nothing about him doesn’t seem to matter now.
Watching him watch me with such undiluted desire is enough to send my head reeling, and I want more of it.
He makes a broken sound when I lift my palm to my breast and cup it, pinching the aching nipple with my fingers. The
move is meant to tease him, but I whimper from the pleasure that shoots up my spine. I slide my hand down my stomach and to
my naked sex, finger trembling as I slide it over the valley of my sex.
“Fuck!” he curses as he unzips his pants, and I watch with bated breath as he tugs his briefs down to draw out his cock,
and I gasp at the impressive girth. He starts stroking his thick shaft in his fist, and when I look up, it’s to find his eyes trained on
me.
This feels forbidden . . . This is forbidden. Luca represents everything that I have been raised to despise . . . but I can’t
stop. I can’t bring myself to turn away from this man.
“You are trouble,” he says harshly, his thoughts echoing my own, as he strokes his cock fast, his dark eyes trained on me.
“You make me want to drop to my knees and worship you. Finger your juicy pussy, eat you up until you’re all I can taste on my
tongue, and then fuck you against that piano until you’ve forgotten how to play the damned thing.”
“Why don’t you?” The words slip out before I know what I am doing.
“You don’t want me to touch you, little girl.”
“Why not?” I challenge, feigning bravery.
“I would break you,” he says hoarsely, his nostrils flaring with so much desire, it has my sex clenching with need. “You
can’t handle me. Not now. Not like this.”
My face falls a little at his words as disappointment filters in. “But I want you to,” I say with a pout, a needy whine
rising up my throat as the thought of pleasuring myself with only my inexperienced hands as he watches leaves me feeling
dissatisfied. I look down, unwilling to see his reaction to my vulnerability. “I—I’ve never done anything like this with anyone
else before, never had someone touch me, and . . . I want you to be the first.”
A long silence follows, and my cheeks burn with mortification, but when I look back up, it’s to find Luca’s eyes still
trained on me, but this time, I read surprise written all over his face.
“You’re a virgin,” he says huskily, and I swallow deeply before nodding. He makes an anguished sound before pushing
his hard cock back into his pants and zipping himself up.
“Luca . . . is that a bad thing?”
He shakes his head as he adjusts his pants. “No, it’s not, princess,” he says getting up, and I watch with bated breath as
he approaches me. “It makes me want you even more.”
He stops right in front of me, grabs my chin, and tips my head up. “You should never have walked through those doors
tonight.”
“But I did,” I whisper shakily.
“You did,” he agrees, rubbing his thumb over my cheek, which makes my heart swell with warmth. “And now, there is
nothing that’s going to stop me from claiming you.”
There is little warning before his lips descend on mine in a toe-curling kiss. I whimper into the kiss as his lips part over
mine with so much need it leaves me achy and sensitive. I lift my fingers to his firm chest, moaning when our tongues touch and
move in an erotic dance against each other.
It’s my first kiss.
The first time I have felt desired, wanted, and I never want it to stop.
Our breaths turn shallow as the kiss grows hot and desperate, and I lose myself in his taste and smell. Christ, everything
about him is perfect. My head swims both from the kiss and his musky scent, but it’s his touch that almost drags me to the edge.
I cry out against his lips when his fingertips skim my nipples, the feeling more heightened than when I did it myself.
Intense pressure gathers between my legs, so strong it sends a fresh wave of heat pooling there until I can feel a trickle down
my thighs.
I drop my hand between my thighs to ease the ache, but Luca grabs me before I can touch myself. “Please,” I whimper
into the kiss, my body shaking with need.
Luca pulls back from the kiss, his eyes on me as he fondles my left breast in his palm, taking the aching nipple between
his fingers and tugging gently. “You are no longer allowed to touch yourself.”
“Please . . .”
He leans down and pecks my lips, kissing a path down my chin. His heavy breath fans my skin sending a rush of heat
through my core. I writhe on the bench, my sex aching with need for relief, but Luca is set on torturing me with his feathered
kisses, but when he dips his head and takes my aching nipple into his hot mouth, there is nothing teasing about the way he sucks
at the bud.
Nothing teasing about the way he drives my overstimulated body to the edge.
I cry out as my back falls against the piano, hitting a few keys as I’m pressed against it. His eyes lift up to mine, and I
whimper at the lust-filled look he throws my way, and it tugs at my heart strings just how much he’s willing to forfeit his
desires for mine. If he’s feeling half of what he’s making me feel, I question how he’s able to hold on to his sanity.
I should . . .
I should do something, but I can’t gather my wits long enough to think past his touch. Before I can come up with anything,
the man drops to his knees between my legs, and my eyes widen to saucers. “Luca, w-what are you—”
“I’m going to take care of you, princess,” he whispers, brushing his lips between my breasts and kissing a trail down my
stomach. My cheeks flush when it registers what it is he’s going to do.
Seeing a man with as dangerous a reputation as Luca drop to his knees, eyes swimming with desire, is not something I
ever imagined would happen to me.
“Just feel, princess,” he says sternly. “Let me take care of you.”
It’s reckless of me to fall for a man I will probably never get to keep, but how can I hold back when he says things like
that?
 Chapter Five
Luca

I did everything I could to hold back.

I tried to stay away from the one person who could possibly start a war among the three mob families. For close to a
decade, the peace between families has balanced on a knife’s edge, and Katya… she holds more power than she understands.
I had no intention of touching her, but you know what they say about forbidden fruits. Touching Katya is the most reckless
thing I have ever done, but I can’t stop myself.
Now that the line has been crossed, there will be no going back . . . ever.
Mine!
This time, me and the possessive voice at the back of my head are in complete agreement to claim this woman.
To hell with everyone else. Anton Berisha and Viktor Ivanov will have to pass through me first.
I’ve fallen so deep that I don’t see any way in hell I could ever resurface and go back to a life before her.
Her skin is velvety smooth against my calloused fingers. Years of fighting in the streets will do that to man, but my
princess does not seem to mind the roughness against her skin.
In fact, it only seems to drive her wild.
Every caress of my rough fingers to her body gets a reaction from her . . . Every kiss I lay on her body has her stomach
clenching and her legs trembling, but I intend to worship her until she forgets how much of a bad idea this is or at least ignore
it, just as I am.
“Oh! Luca . . . I need . . .”
“What do you need?” I rasp, kissing a trail down her stomach, my cock aching so hard, it threatens to pop my zipper, but
I plan on waiting. I will use every last bit of self-control I have developed over the years before unleashing, and when I do, I’ll
make sure she’s ready to take me.
“You,” she whimpers, her elbow pressing on the piano keys, and the wild notes echo through the room. I look up, and
when our eyes lock, there is no missing the desire swimming in her eyes. Her breathing grows choppier as she stares down at
me, and I almost lose myself in those pretty green eyes. I groan deeply when her tongue sneaks out to wet her lips, the move so
erotic I can barely suppress the need to thrust my cock between those pretty lips.
I want her!
No, I crave her like I never have another woman in my life. I’ve never had time for a relationship or even attempted one,
too focused on making money and keeping everyone in line that my attraction to the opposite sex was always a secondary need.
Not once have I thought of putting a woman ahead of my goals, but with Katya . . . I’m prepared to do that and more.
I’m ready to toss everything I have worked over twenty years to build for her.
“I’m going to take care of you,” I say, leaning down and placing a kiss on her stomach as I nudge her hips to open wider.
Good Lord, she’s perfect. Up close, I see more details I missed earlier, and the slickness on her inner thighs has no right
looking so goddamned hot. “You are practically dripping, princess.”
I circle my thumb over her drenched folds, parting them to reveal her slippery slit. She cries out when I drag my thumb
through the valley of her pussy. My mouth pools with saliva at the thought of finally getting a taste of her, and her soft peach
scent only tempts me further.
“You want me to clean this up for you, don’t you?” I tease, rubbing my thumb in circles over her clit, drinking up her
expression as her lips part on a moan.
“No . . . Yes . . . Please!” she cries, the sound morphing into a scream when I lean down and slide my hungry tongue over
her wet sex, gathering the moisture in my mouth. Fuck, she tastes like the sweetest dessert and equally addictive.
I grab her thighs and lift them to my shoulders, giving me better access to her dripping core, and I don’t waste a second
leaning in for another taste. A hungry groan slips out as I bathe her trembling sex with long licks and stroke her sensitive bud
with the tip of my tongue. My cock leaks behind my fly, my balls ache with the need for release, and I have to fight not to shoot
in my pants.
Hell, her fucking taste alone is enough to send me to the edge.
 “Luca! Oh God!”
She writhes, her movements pressing more piano keys and filling the room with a mixture of her pleasured cries and the
uncoordinated notes.
I drown myself in her scent and taste, losing sense of time as she becomes my only focus. Her choppy breaths are broken
by her needy cries, telling me she’s close. Her pussy starts to quiver when I close my lips around her clit and suction the tight
bud into my mouth, softly at first before increasing the pressure.
Katya grips my hair and tugs, riding my mouth as she draws closer to an orgasm. Her movements become fevered, and
when I slip my index finger into her virgin hole, she lets go with a scream. Her legs stiffen over my shoulders a second before
her body starts shaking, arching to expose her flushed tits and those perfectly beaded nipples. I lick her through the orgasm until
her body relaxes.
She’s trembling when I draw her legs from my shoulders, and fuck me, she is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
Her wild red hair is draped out over the bench in all directions, face flushed, those perfect lips swollen and eyes dazed as she
stares up at me, and . . . I can’t wait any longer.
I lift her from the bench before settling back down with her on my lap. “Take me out,” I say raggedly, leaning in and
kissing her neck as she tugs down my zipper to draw out my aching cock. Her delicate fingers are unsteady as she slips them
into my briefs and fists my hard shaft.
“It’s so big,” she whispers shakily as she pulls my cock from my briefs, and I hiss at the feel of her hands on my
erection, and I realize my control is in shreds.
Her sweet voice undoes me, it’s a surprise I don’t shoot on the spot. My balls are heavy and aching for relief. “I need to
be inside of you, princess,” I grit out, closing my hand over hers and starting to jerk myself as beads of precum drip down my
girth to our joined hands.
“It’s massive. Luca . . . it won’t fit.”
“It will, princess,” I say through clenched teeth. “You’re so wet and ready to take my cock.”
I wrap a forearm around her back and lift her off my lap, using my left hand to push my pants down to my knees before
guiding my cock to her wet sex. She whimpers when I rub my swollen head over her wet slit before sliding it into her entrance.
My eyes are locked on hers, and I watch as her expression shifts to discomfort, but she doesn’t protest as I slide my cock
into her, and goddamn, she’s so fucking tight. I have to clench my teeth to stop myself from blowing before I am even fully
inside of her.
“Oh, so big,” she whimpers when I press another inch into her. Her pretty, innocent gray eyes lock on mine, and
whatever shred of self-control I was clinging to shatters. I realize that I cannot wait any longer as I thrust upward and break her
virgin barrier, seating her fully on my cock.
Her cry mixes with my pained groan, and I hold her against me as her tight walls pulse around my cock. I try to grasp
onto some sliver of control, but I am too far gone to wait as I start bouncing Katya up and down on my lap, the wet sounds of
our love making filling the room. “You are so fucking tight, princess.”
“Luca!” She digs her fingers into my shoulders as I pump my cock into her, reveling in her tightness and just how fucking
well she takes me.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Katya,” I rasp hoarsely, leaning down and taking a rosy nipple into my mouth, sucking the
tight bud as I bounce her roughly on my lap. “Mine. This pussy, this perfect body, hell, I claim all of you. I will kill anyone that
tries to take you from me!”
“Yours,” she whimpers, burying her face against my neck and her fingers into my back, no doubt ripping the shirt a little,
but I cannot bring myself to care. I push back to watch her perfect tits jiggle with every thrust into her tight heat.
I try to be gentle, to remind myself that this is her first time, but there is little thought in my head that doesn’t revolve
around fucking her like an animal. Her pleasured cries are enough to fuel me on.
Fuck! I’m close.
I fucking hate how close I am already, but I have been hard for hours, so it’s a surprise I don’t already have blue balls.
With her taste fresh in my mouth and her sweet peach scent washing over me . . . I can feel my balls ache with the need to spill.
“Mine,” I growl, leaning up and taking her mouth in a hot, hungry kiss. “I’m going to breed this pussy, bury my seed in
your womb, and leave you swollen with my child!”
“Oh . . . oh, God!” Katya sobs as she climaxes, her sex clinching tightly around my cock and taking me by surprise, but I
am too far gone to examine what set her off so fast. Her tight, pulsing sex has already pushed me to the edge, and I am barely
clinging on as is.
“Katya!” I hammer my cock into her, my moves brutal and beyond my control. I turn us around so she’s lying on the slim
bench before driving back into her with the vengeance of a sex-starved animal. My thrusts are hard and fast, forcing her to grab
onto me tightly or fall. “I’m coming, baby, going to fill you up . . .”
I come with a roar, spilling long spurts of my seed into her womb. I am grunting as I pound into her tightness until I have
emptied every last drop of my cum into her, finally marking her as mine.
We’re both breathing unevenly as we slide to the soft carpet, and I can’t resist the urge to kiss her, the weight of what
I’ve just done settling in fully.
I just made her mine and put a target on both our backs, I think as I slide my lips possessively over hers.
Mine!
I don’t care what I have to do to make sure it stays so forever, but I will do it, even if it means facing all the three mob
bosses head-to-head. No woman has made me feel the way Katya does, and I don’t believe anyone else ever will.
I draw back from the kiss and stare down at her flushed cheeks, her pretty, dazed eyes blinking at me so innocently tugs
at my heartstrings like nothing ever has. I am an animal for taking her this way.
Her first time should have been in my soft bed with scented candles setting the mood, not on the bench of a fucking piano
that was no doubt uncomfortable on her back and bottom.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, brushing her hair from her forehead and leaning down to kiss her temple. I reach over for her
robe, helping her sit up and drawing it over her shoulders to warm her. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
“I’ve heard it happens . . . uhm, first time,” she whispers, burrowing into my arms like a touch starved kitten.
“Does it still hurt?”
She blushes to the roots of her hair, hiding her face in my neck. “No, stop asking that.”
“I need to know how much further I can go tonight,” I tell her, palming my hardening cock, and I feel her tense against
me.
“Already?” There is no hiding the shock in her voice or the excitement beneath it.
I wrap my arms around her, the after-sex intimacy unfamiliar to me, but holding her this way feels just right. I know I
should carry her out of here and clean her up, but her soft body against my hard one is a feeling I am not willing to give up just
yet.
Later, I will have all the time to think of what this truly means for both our lives and how to deal with her father, who is
already searching for his daughter.
When I’d gone to my office earlier this evening, I checked in with my men and caught word that Ivanov’s youngest
daughter is missing and the man himself was furious. Someone close to the family let it slip that Viktor isn’t just furious but
terrified of what the Albanians will do when they discover the bride they were promised has gone missing.
Mine!
I draw Katya tighter against me and bury my face in her hair, blocking out thoughts of our uncertain future.
One thing is certain.
I will fight to the death to keep Katya with me forever!
 Chapter Six
Katya

This feels like a fever dream.

If anyone had told me that I would find myself in bed with the same man that’s been the bane of my father’s existence, I
would’ve laughed at the joke and walked away, and yet . . . here I am.
There is just no way in my wildest dreams I would have anticipated this turn of events, but in a twist of fate, I find
myself lying in bed with the one man I was never supposed to meet.
The thought of going back to my life, where no one really cares about me, doesn’t sound appealing at all.
Is this what they call Stockholm syndrome?
Luca did kidnap me and bring me to his apartment. I could’ve put up a little more fight when it happened, not sure it
would have helped matters, but the fact remains that I didn’t, and now I cannot leave, whether or not I like it.
It just happens that I do like it here.
No, it’s Luca that I like. It might have something to do with the feeling of those strong arms circled around me, drawing
me to his massive body, or his warm masculine scent. No, it’s definitely his low growly voice and how it caresses my skin
every time he leans into whisper and call me his.
Everything about this man makes me forget how we got her.
He makes me feel the one thing I have longed to get from my family . . . wanted.
I have gone most of my life feeling like an outsider in my own household just because I am the youngest with much older
siblings who often ignored my existence, not to mention being an outcast at school as a result of my father’s dangerous
reputation. I never really found my place, not at home or at school, but with Luca . . .
He makes me think of things I shouldn’t, like of a life together. When he leans in and calls me his, his warm breath
against my ear, he makes me think I’ve finally found my home . . . my person.
Oh, this is bad!
This is definitely not going to end well for me.
Perhaps I should snap back to my senses and remember that I have a life that I will eventually have to get back to.
Classes I will need to attend and a family that’ll demand my return. I need to put a lid on whatever romantic ideas I am having
for my kidnapper.
“You are thinking awfully hard over there,” Luca rasps deeply into my ear. His voice heavy with sleep and sending
shivers trailing down my back, and just like that I forget that I was trying to talk myself out of the feelings I’m developing for
this man.
“I’m just thinking about breakfast,” I respond, snuggling into his arms and letting out a little satisfied sigh when he draws
me flush against him. His erection pushes hard against my bottom, but neither of us acknowledge it.
“What are you really thinking about?”
“Home,” I whisper, my voice a little wistful. “I wonder if my family is looking for me now. I know I’ve been gone for
just a night, but a part of me wonders if they’re at all worried about me.”
An awkward silence sets in, and when Luca doesn’t respond, I decide to cover it with a chuckle that doesn’t exactly
help with the awkwardness. “I’m overthinking. I’ve only been gone for a night, not long enough to worry them anyway.”
If I don’t show up at home, they’ll probably just think I am at my little studio apartment and won’t look for me. They
won’t come looking until they need me for something, like this awful engagement. Unless I can be of service to them, my family
is happy to forget I exist at all. I could be gone for weeks, months even, and no one would care.
“They’re looking for you,” Luca says, breaking into my thoughts, and I still in his arms.
“W-what? How do you know that?”
“Your father sent out his men last night to find you.” I push back the excitement that threatens to break through. “He has
men asking around and tracing your steps before you went missing.”
My heart races at the thought of my family finally being worried for me. “Do you think they’ll trace me here?”
 “No.”
Luca’s voice is so firm with conviction that I don’t bother arguing with him. I already can’t keep the smile off my face.
“That’s fine. I’ll probably give it a day before heading back home. I think that will be enough time for them to rethink my
marriage to the Albanian.”
“No,” Luca says gruffly, withdrawing his arms from me, and I mourn the loss. “Your father won’t call off the wedding.
The Albanians are helping him look for you. He plans to marry you off to Anton to secure the alliance the moment he finds
you.”
My stomach drops. I’d feared as much, but I hadn’t wanted to admit it. I might not be involved with my father’s criminal
activity, but I know enough about mob politics to know it was a pipe dream.
I turn around to catch Luca climbing out of bed, and I can’t help but stare at his muscular frame. I follow the tattoos
trailing his shoulders to his massive pecs, my throat growing dry when my eyes drop to his jutting erection.
Focus, Katya!
I shake my head as if to rid myself of these new and surprisingly strong lustrous thoughts to focus on the matter on hand.
I sit up and fold my hands over my lap, watching the man disappear into the ensuite without another word. I spend the
time alone trying to gather my composure, but when Luca walks back into the room, freshly showered and with a towel hanging
loosely around his waist, I lose myself all over again.
“Uhm . . .” I clear my throat, climbing off the bed to follow him into his closet. “What if I want to talk to my parents?
Maybe I can convince them to call off the arrangement.”
“No. Your father would never allow himself to be humiliated that way. He can’t know where you are, Katya. Not yet.”
“What am I going to do? I can’t just stay here. I have class and . . .”
He whirls around to look at me, his expression firm when he speaks. “You aren’t going anywhere, princess. Have you
forgotten how you got here? You came to the club on your own. Your father will see that as a betrayal.” The towel drops from
his waist to reveal his massive cock, and I gulp despite having seen him like this last night. Well, not completely naked as he is
now, but . . .
Christ, I need to focus on what it is we are talking about, but I can’t. Luca smells deliciously of expensive aftershave and
soap, and I want to lean in, bury my nose in his neck and drown myself in his scent.
“I haven’t forgotten,” I whisper hoarsely, feeling a little dazed from being close to this man. “B-but I thought something
changed last night.”
Luca steps forward, backing me up to his closet island. I gasp when he grabs my thighs and lifts me up, knocking
something off the surface, but neither of us look down to see what it is. His eyes flare with heat as he slips his hand under my
borrowed shirt and rubs my back.
“Everything changed last night, princess,” he whispers, leaning down and brushing his lips softly against mine. “You
became mine the second you let me touch you.”
“Does that mean I am no longer your captive?”
“It means I intend to keep you safe through all means possible, even if it means locking you up in here until I’ve taken
care of everything.”
“My family would never hurt me, Luca.” At least not physically.
“That’s not a risk I’m willing to take, and it isn’t just your family we have to worry about,” he says firmly, but he doesn’t
offer an explanation, and his lips are on mine before I can question him. I shamelessly melt against him, along with whatever
protest I was about to voice. What was meant to be a soft brush of lips quickly turns needy and demanding.
“Luca!” I cry out when he shoves my thighs apart and steps between them. The heat of his skin warms my body when he
pulls me flush against him. I press my chest against his, enjoying the feeling of him against the hard peaks of my nipples,
separated only by the thin fabric of my shirt.
He deepens the kiss, licking into my mouth like a starved animal, and I match his need. At least, I try to. His hunger is
enough to fuel my own and send any and all thoughts flying out the window. He groans into the kiss as he grasps my knees,
yanks me forward, and lifts my legs around his hips. A hoarse cry slips out when his erection rubs against my sex, but he
doesn’t push it in, leaving me trembling with desperate desire.
“I need you, princess,” Luca rasps, breaking the kiss and trailing his lips down my chin and neck. “I know you’re still
sore from last night, but I need to be inside you. Need to fuck your tight little pussy and breed you, plant a baby in you!”
 “Oh God, yes,” I cry out, my sex flooding with liquid heat from his words. I want that too. I had no idea just how much I
wanted this until he mentioned it last night, and the thought still turns me on as much as it did then. I gasp when he nips my
earlobe, leaning back and propping myself on my elbows as his teasing lips drive me to the point of madness and I realize that I
need him too.
For more reasons than he knows.
A moan slips out when Luca grabs his hardness and guides it to my pulsing sex, his eyes firmly on mine as he slides his
cock into my wet channel. I wince at the discomfort of his massive cock but soon forget about it when he leans down and takes
my lips with his in a kiss so obscene, it makes my toes curl with pleasure.
“How are you still so fucking tight, baby?” he growls, wrapping a hand around my waist as he pulls out before slamming
back into me so hard, he knocks the wind out of me. A tremble shakes my body when he lifts his left hand to my nipple,
pinching it through the material of my shirt as he drives his cock in and out of me in long hard moves, but I need more.
“Luca,” I pant. “Faster!”
His features tighten and eyes spark with something feral as he grabs my thigh and pulls out, then he thrusts his hips
forward and my eyes roll back as pleasure unlike anything I have ever felt shoots up my spine. My lips part in a soundless
scream as he fucks me with an aggression that could rival that of a sex-starved beast.
“You like that? Your captor fucking your tight little pussy?”
“Yes!”
“Look at you, dripping all over my cock, begging for me to breed you.”
“Yes,” I breathe, my sex pulsing with need. “Please!”
“Fuck.” His expression is pained as he drills into me. “You like hearing me say the words, don’t you?”
“Luca!” I whine desperately when he suddenly stops moving, his cock buried deep inside of me. “Don’t stop . . .
Please!”
“Then say it!”
“Luca!”
“I want to hear you say the words.”
A deep flush rises up my throat as I stare into his dark eyes, my sex trembling with the need for him to move and bring us
both the pleasure we crave. “B-breed me,” I whisper. “Please!”
Luca shoves his face into my throat with a deep growl and starts pounding into me with such powerful thrusts they
border on painful, but they’re exactly what I crave. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold on for the ride, his powerful
strokes threatening to sweep me over.
“Mine!” he growls deeply, the sound almost inhuman as he drills into me. The orgasm breaks without warning, so strong
it threatens to knock me out.
“Oh God, Luca . . . Oh!” I sob as I climax, pleasure shooting up my spine and to the roots of my hair. My body trembles
as he fucks me through the orgasm, his movements fevered as he drives into me, his release only a step behind mine.
His fingers dig into my back as he bellows, his hips moving faster and harder as he drives into me, spilling his hot,
endless seed into my womb. He throws his head back, muscles straining as my sex cinches hard around him, milking him to the
last drop. Then he finally goes still before dropping against me.
I tighten my arms around him as he pants into my ear, his warm breath against my skin reminding me that I am no longer
alone in this world.
“You’re mine, Katya,” he whispers, brushing his lips along the side of my neck. “I am never letting you go. I will kill
anyone that dares try to take you from me or comes for you!”
“Yours,” I respond, closing my eyes and breathing in his strong masculine scent. His wildly possessive words should
scare me, and they do.
But they also warm my heart and make me fall hopelessly in love with this man. But does being Luca’s mean everything
has to change? What about school? Am I supposed to just forget about my classes and my showcase performance? I’ve worked
my whole life to get where I am as a pianist. I can’t just give that up.
And what of my family? I can’t see my parents anymore, even just to tell them goodbye?
I know they wouldn’t really miss me, but I don’t want our unresolved issues to be a shadow that follows Luca and me
the rest of our lives. I don’t want us to always have to look over our shoulders for my father’s men.
I’ve found the one person I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I want to stay, but not like this.
Even as I lean into Luca, burrowing into his strength and drowning myself in his strong, addictive scent, I realize that I’ll
have to find a way to close the door on my old life without him knowing. I’ll have to sneak out.
If only to rid myself of the shackles of my old life.
 Chapter Seven
Luca

“I assume you’ve heard the news,” Matteo says, scratching his mustache as he stares up at me with a suspicious glit in
his eyes. He is a short, stocky man with a large pot belly and thinning white hair, which gives people the illusion that he is
harmless, but the truth is that Matteo Rossi is as ruthless as they come to anyone outside his own family.
As was his father before him and his grandfather before that.
I can’t say the same thing about the son resting on the couch near his father. Unlike Matteo, Nico is quiet and soft. He has
no interest in his father’s empire, preferring to pursue his passion for cooking instead. Nico is a skilled chef with a kind heart,
something Matteo has only recently come to accept.
Normally, Nico and I would be at odds given his natural position as Matteo’s heir and mine as his father’s second in
command. We are about the same age, and Matteo has always treated me like a son. Fortunately, Nico has never struggled with
jealousy, only too happy to see me take up his father’s mantel. It’s why everyone assumes that I will be Matteo’s heir, though he
hasn’t officially named me as such.
“Luca,” comes a stern voice, and my attention shifts back to my boss.
“Yes, Ivanov’s daughter has been missing for two days now.”
“And you wouldn’t have any idea where she is?”
“No,” I say, my face blank as I lock eyes with my boss’s hard ones. He watches me silently for a long moment, and I
fight the urge to tell him everything. This man has been like a father to me for over a decade. I owe everything I am and all that
I have to him.
But Katya is mine!
I am not handing her over to her father or my boss. I am not about to let these men control her fate.
Isn’t that exactly what you are doing?
I ignore the little voice at the back of my head. I am nothing like these men. Fine, maybe I am just like these men when it
comes to business, and it’s for that very reason that I intend to keep Katya to myself and away from them.
I know how they think.
I know that they would not hesitate to hurt her if it came to that.
No, Katya stays with me until I feel it’s safe. I vowed to protect her even if it cost my life.
“I heard she’s a redhead, a pretty one,” Nico says absently, breaking me from my thoughts, and my eyes shoot to him.
“Hm,” Matteo agrees. “I believe that is why Anton agreed to the alliance so quickly,” he says, his eyes never leaving my
face.
My fists clench at my sides, an action Matteo does not fail to notice. There is something in his expression that I don’t
trust.
“For her sake, I hope Anton isn’t the one who finds her, given his reputation for his treatment of women. Alliance or not,
something tells me his betrothed would not escape his wrath.” Nico plays with his fingers as he speaks, seeming unaware of
the storm his words are causing to burn within me.
Katya is purity and innocence in my world of violence, and I will protect that to the death!
“You know, if we find her first, we could stop the alliance and the war altogether and keep the poor girl safe,” Nico
continues, halting my building rage momentarily.
“What are you talking about?” I demand. “If we find her and don’t return her to Viktor, we’ll have both the Albanians
and the Russians on our asses. Anton won’t let this go any more than Viktor would. They both want this marriage alliance.”
Nico smiles, and I’m suddenly reminded that even though he may not want to take over for his father, he is still every bit
Matteo’s son.
“Ah, but if you found her first and convinced her to marry you instead, the alliance between the Russians and the
Albanians would be dead in the water. And as your wife, no one would dare to touch the girl.”
I suck in a breath as I look from Nico to Matteo. I hadn’t considered this possibility, mostly because I never imagined
Matteo would agree to it. But the smirk playing at his mouth suggests not only did he know what Nico was going to suggest and
agrees with it, but also knows exactly where Katya is.
“What do you think, Luca?” my boss asks.
“You know I’d do anything for the famiglia,” I respond, not yet ready to admit to the truth.
The idea of marrying Katya sends a bolt of want through my chest. Is it really possible that the thing I want most could
also be what stops this war? What Nico says makes sense. If Katya is already married, then Anton cannot use her to form an
alliance with the Russians. And he would never settle for anything less than the pakhan’s daughter as an acceptable bride.
Viktor would have nothing else to offer him, and their arrangement would fall apart. Without the support of the Albanians,
Viktor is no match for the Rossi family.
“Well then,” Matteo says with a clap of his hands, “it’s settled.” He stands and walks to his desk and picks up a piece of
paper, then he walks over toward the door, stopping to whisper in my ear as he passes me. “I’ll give you until this evening to
take care of this.”
He presses the paper into my hand, then reaches up and places a hand on my shoulder, squeezing with a force that makes
me fight back a wince. Matteo may be getting on in years, but he is still as strong as a bull. “And caro mio, this will be the only
time you ever lie to me.” The threat is clear in his voice.
“Si, Don Rossi,” I respond, eyes downcast. He leaves the room without another word.
Nico stands and follows him out, clapping my shoulder good-naturedly and shaking his head with a chuckle as he goes.
“I suppose I better get to the kitchen if we’re to be celebrating a marriage soon,” he calls over his shoulder.
Alone in the room, my shoulders sink as the tension slowly leaves my body. My meeting with Matteo went better than I
could have ever hoped, but I’m not so sure Katya will see it that way. I was a fool to think that I could ever hide something like
this from him, and I know his love for me is the only reason I’m still standing. With a sigh, I turn to leave, glancing at the paper
Matteo gave me as I do.
My lips tip up in a grin, and I chuckle in disbelief when I see it’s a marriage license, already signed by a witness and
notarized. All that’s missing are mine and Katya’s signatures. That old bastard. He really does know everything. It appears I
still have a thing or two to learn from my boss.
Time to get home and convince my princess to trade one marriage alliance for another. I smile to myself as I think of all
the deliciously dirty ways I can convince her.
Twenty minutes later, the elevator doors open to my home and out wafts a delicious smell that has my stomach growling.
There is soft music playing, and I follow the sound and smell to my kitchen to find Katya leaning over something cooking in a
pot, her hips moving in time with the music.
She looks perfect in my house, wearing my clothes as she stirs something in the pot. I don’t imagine I’ve used the kitchen
to cook since I bought this place three years ago.
“Katya,” I call out. She jumps back, her cheeks flushing prettily when her eyes lock on mine.
“Luca, you’re home.” She beams, flashing me a smile that has me falling deeper for this woman. “You’re earlier than I
thought. I’m making chili, but it’s going to take at least half an hour before it’s finally done . . . Wait, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, princess,” I try to assure her.
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
I approach Katya and press her back against the counter, careful not to let her get too close to the hot stove. She melts
against me, and I can’t resist leaning in for a kiss. Then another. With immense effort, I pull back and look into her storm gray
eyes.
“We need to talk. I have an important question to ask you,” I tell her.
 Chapter Eight
Katya

Babushka, bless her soul, always told me that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.
She told me the story of how she used to make my grandfather his favorite dessert every time he visited the homeland.
My grandfather had promised marriage to a pretty politician’s daughter, but once he grew addicted to my grandmother’s
desserts, he immediately canceled his engagement with the politician’s daughter and married her instead.
I’m not sure of the validity of her story, but I was willing to trust her word when I made Luca chili. I figured if he was
well-fed, then I would find a way to appeal to him to let me leave, if not to say goodbye to my family, then at least to play in my
showcase performance for school.
I don’t hate it here with him. In fact, with Luca is the happiest I have ever been.
Having him pay attention to every word I say, watch me like the sun and moon hang over my head, and make love to me
like it’s his one goal in life.
What more could I ask for?
The past two days have been nothing, but pure bliss, but . . . I’m restless. I have a life to get back to, one I want Luca to
be a part of. My showcase performance is tomorrow morning, and Luca has forbidden me to attend.
I also want to see my parents, if only for closure on that relationship. I know too much has happened for me to ever
return home. And I know my father will never accept Luca. But I want to know why. I need to know. Why couldn’t he love me
the way he loves my siblings? Why couldn’t he listen to me? Why would he promise me to a cruel man like Anton Berisha?
Sure, I have always made it clear that I want no part in the family business. But I’m still his daughter, and they’re still my
family.
Luca’s return home and his heated touch have me shoving those thoughts aside to focus on the man in front of me. I want
to know how his meeting with the Italian don went. Nervous anticipation skitters under my skin as I reach over and turn off the
stove before following Luca into his master bedroom. His lips are on mine the second we’ve walked through the door. So much
for talking.
He’s much gentler than usual, his kisses long and drawn out, that for a moment, I forget everything but this.
God, he feels tailor-made for me. Everything about him, from the way he touches me to how he responds to my shy
caresses, makes it feel like we’re the only people on earth.
When I strip out of my shirt, leaving my body naked, it’s to see his rugged features tighten with lust. He runs his hungry
eyes over my body as he backs me to the bed. I spy the massive ridge on his pants, and the glint in his dark eyes is a testament
to his desire.
I bite my lip when my legs hit the bed and I fall back. Luca climbs on after me with nostrils flaring like a wild predator
scenting prey. “Don’t ever think of leaving me, Katya.”
His words sound like a threat, but instead of fear, all it does is make a hot shiver race through my body, and when he
drops his lips to my skin, raking his teeth along my sensitive flesh, he sends a pulsating flutter between my legs in ways only he
has ever managed to.
And when he kisses me, all I can think about is spending the rest of my life with this man. I long to feel this deep
connection with him every day for the rest of our lives.
“I won’t leave,” I promise, and his features soften but not completely.
Luca seems set on giving me more solid reasons to stay when he skims his fingertips over my nipples before dipping his
head and closing his hot mouth around the aching buds. My back arches with a sob as he sucks lightly at first before increasing
the pressure.
“Luca.” A whimper slips out as he pleasures me with his mouth, rocking his erection against my hip as he does so. He
kisses a trail up my body, and I cry out when he kisses the sensitive spot under my ear.
“I could cum just from kissing you, Katya,” he rasps, pressing the steel ridge of his clothed shaft against my bare sex.
“You feel how hard you make me, princess?”
I push up against his body, rubbing against his cock and no doubt staining his pants with my juices. “Yes.”
“Only you can do this.” His voice carries hints of frustration in it. “Only you have ever driven me to the point of
madness. With this body, and your perfect smile, and the way you talk, how could I not love you?”
I still. “L-love me?”
His words bring me pause, but he doesn’t take them back. Instead, he pushes up and drops his hand over my head, staring
down at me with enough desire in his eyes to send moisture pooling in my sex.
“Yes, Katya,” he breathes, leaning down and brushing his lips softly against mine. “I love you.” He kisses my cheek
before nipping at my neck even as he works down his zipper. “I love everything about you, from the way you look to your
beautiful, pure heart.”
“Luca!” I sob when I feel the hard press of his cock against my entrance, quickly wrapping my legs around his hips as
he slides in slowly past my drenched folds and into my slick opening.
“You are mine, Katya. There is little I wouldn’t do to make sure it stays that way!” he growls, capturing my mouth with
his in a long passionate kiss, one that sends my toes curling in pleasure.
I whimper against his lips as we make love, this time different from anything we’ve done before. I slide my hands down
his back and claw at his shoulders as he thrusts into me with slow powerful drives, sending a rush of wetness between us. My
thighs tremble, and ecstasy coils in my stomach as every thrust has him sinking deeper into me. “Luca . . . faster, please!”
He gives into my desire, sliding his arm underneath my thigh and draping my leg over his shoulder, bringing him
impossibly deeper into my sex. My eyes roll back in my head as pleasure shoots up my spine and down to the tips of my toes
when he starts fucking me earnestly.
“Mine!” he grunts, driving into me with powerful strokes, each move sending me closer and closer to the edge, and when
he drops his thumb between us, strumming my clit in circles, he sends me flying off the cliff.
My muscles clamp hard around his hardness as my lips part in a scream, my walls constricting around his shaft in
jerking moves that send him falling right after me. Luca comes with a bellow, driving his cock into me with a final violent
thrust as he pumps his warm seed into my womb. He fucks me through the orgasm, my muscles spasming around his length and
milking him of everything before he collapses on top of me.
We lie on the bed in silence, the only sound in the room our harsh breathing, and I can’t help but replay his words.
He said he loves me.
He . . . loves me.
“We should probably go and try your chili,” Luca says, dropping his elbow over my head and pushing up to look down
at me. I read the affection in his face, and it floors me.
That someone like him could love me.
“Okay,” I whisper, too choked up to say another word. But as we make our way back to the kitchen, it occurs to me that
he’d wanted to talk about something.
“How did your meeting with Matteo go? What was it we need to talk about?”
Luca takes his time dishing up two bowls of chili and carrying them to the breakfast counter where I’m waiting. As we
settle in to eat, he says, “Matteo, or rather his son, Nico, came up with a way to prevent both the war and your marriage to the
Albanian.”
Shocked, I look up at Luca sharply. “Matteo agreed to help me? He wasn’t angry that you kept me with you and didn’t
tell him right away?”
He smiles enigmatically and responds, “I forgot how difficult it is to keep anything from the old man. He’s known all
along that you’ve been here.”
“So, what is his magical solution to fixing everything?”
“It’s simple really. You’ll marry me instead.”
My jaw drops and my spoon clatters to the counter. I can’t have heard that right. Marry Luca? My father’s most hated
enemy?
But he’s more than that. He’s the first person to ever make me feel loved and cared for. He protected me even when he
thought it could cost him his life. How could I not want to marry this man? But is it what he really wants, or is he being forced
into this?
Gathering my composure, I attempt to keep my voice neutral when I ask, “Is that what you want, or would you do it just
to thwart my father’s plans?”
 Luca sets down his own spoon and finally turns to me. My breath hitches at the intense look in his eyes and the emotion I
read there. “I would do nearly anything for my family,” he says. “But I would burn down the entire world, including the Rossi
empire, if it meant keeping you forever. There’s nothing I want more than to marry you, princess.”
I have to force my words past the lump in my throat as I throw my arms around Luca’s neck. “Then let’s get married,” I
whisper in his ear. He pulls back and smiles before kissing me softly. Then he reaches for a piece of paper I hadn’t noticed on
the counter. When he shows it to me, I see that it’s a marriage license and he’s already added his signature. The only thing that’s
missing is mine.
“Is this real?” I ask.
Luca shrugs and smiles. “It’s not exactly the correct order of things. But I don’t think anyone in this city will question a
marriage license witnessed by Matteo Rossi.” I smile back at him and take the pen he offers me, signing my name with a
flourish.
“We’re married,” I say, turning to the man who is now my husband, well, we still have to file the license with the
records office, but that’s a minor detail.
“There’s just one thing left to do now to make it official,” Luca says with a wicked grin.
“Oh? What’s that?”
“We have to consummate our union, of course.” And with that, he scoops me up and carries me back to the bedroom,
leaving our dinner forgotten on the counter. We make love in our bed, and the connection we share is unlike anything before.
Afterward, we grab a shower together, making love again under the hot spray. There is no resisting this man, my husband, and
his perfect body.
Once in bed again, my gentle giant draws me into his arms under the covers, pulling me flush against him, and soon, he’s
out like a light.
I stay up for hours, listening to the sound of his breathing and thinking of how much I want to spend every evening for the
rest of my life feeling warm and protected in the arms of the man that I love.
I love Luca more than I have ever loved anyone in my life, and I want to live out the rest of my life with him, but . . . I
need to leave.
At least for a few hours.
I’ll be back before he even notices that I am gone.
“I love you, Luca,” I whisper, leaning down and placing a soft kiss on his lips before climbing out of bed.
My heart hammers in my chest as I quietly slip into my clothes and exit the bedroom. I am half afraid he will stop me, but
I don’t hear anything as I grab the key card he left on the entry room table.
I have a moment of hesitation as I step into the elevator, but I don't turn back. I need to do this.
I can’t let go of everything I’ve worked for, and at the same time, I need to close the door on my past. I’ll show Luca that
we can be together without him having to lock me up in his apartment to protect me.
As the elevator doors slide closed, I can’t help the heavy feeling that settles in my chest.
 Chapter Nine
Luca

I love you, Luca.

The words slam into me harder than any fist that’s ever landed on my face and undo me just as fast.
This girl knows just how to build me up then destroy me with simple words and soft touches.
I knew she was going to leave, that’s why I left the keycard on the living room table. I read the stubbornness in her eyes
when I forbade her from going to the showcase, and I knew that she’d find one way or another to leave.
Did my naive little flower really think I wouldn’t notice her leave the bed? I am in the mob for Christ’s sake. I haven’t
known a deep sleep for decades, and the slightest disturbance wakes me up. Still, I let her believe she’d gotten her way.
I slide into my joggers and a hoodie then head for my home office where I keep the spare key. I follow right after her and
catch up just as she’s climbing into a taxi. I know where she’s going, so I don’t mind losing sight of the taxi as I head to the
garage for my car.
The drive to the concert hall her school rented for the showcase has me on edge, and while I am not too pleased to be
chasing my princess, I need to get my stubborn woman back. I park my car a few blocks away, and I figure it’ll be easier to slip
in the back entrance used by the students.
And it appears I am not the only one who thought so.
I notice guards—Viktor’s men—huddled together in the alley next to the school as I sneak through the shadows, and not a
single one of them notices me when I slip through the door. Once this is all settled, if Katya insists on finishing her schooling,
I’m going to have to do something about this lax security. She’ll have at least two of my men assigned to guard her at all times.
Viktor has more men inside the venue, and I’m careful to keep my head down and avoid eye contact. Dressed as I am, I
fit in with the college students who are warming up on their instruments and have yet to change out of their street clothes. Still,
I have to be careful. I know without a doubt that any one of Viktor’s men wouldn’t hesitate to shoot me if they spotted me,
witnesses be damned. But I didn’t rise through the ranks of the Rossi family without learning a few things.
And I am willing to risk my life for Katya. To get her back, and this time when I do, I’ll not let her go.
I turn down a corridor lined with doors leading to dressing rooms and soundproofed rehearsal rooms. I peek through
every open doorway, looking for Katya. Knowing my princess, she has sought out a piano to practice her showcase piece and
settle her nerves. Playing always calms her.
I catch loud noises as I come closer to the fourth door on the right side of the hall. It’s only slightly ajar, but enough to
see that it is a rehearsal room and no one is guarding the entrance. I shake my head at Viktor’s incompetence, or perhaps he’s
just confident that no one would dare try something here with so many civilians around.
I press close to the door and reach into my waistband to take out my gun, pushing the slightly open door further until I
can see Katya and her father in the reflection of the mirror on the far wall.
“. . . Papa, I’m telling the truth. I was at a friend’s house. But I’m not coming home with you. I won’t marry the Albanian,
you can’t force me.”
“Do you have any idea the trouble you have caused this family, you spoiled little brat?” Ivanov’s voice booms through
the room, making Katya flinch back from him.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Save your apologies,” Ivanov sneers. “I’ll have you under house arrest until your wedding day. You are coming home
and you are not leaving the house until Anton comes to fetch you himself.”
“No! I won’t marry him!”
“It’s your responsibility as a daughter in this family to play your role. You are marrying the man in three days, and that is
final.”
I’m about to burst through the door but pull back when I realize it’s not just the two of them in the room. There are other
people I recognize as Katya’s siblings seated on a couch, watching their father’s cruelty, and not one of them steps in. I
expected something like this to happen, and as much as I hate for Katya to go through it, I realize it’s the only way she’ll truly
come to understand that she can never return home. Never leave me.
“Papa, please . . .”
 “You two, guard the door. I don’t want anyone in or out of this room until I return for my daughter,” Viktor instructs two
men standing in a corner. To Katya, he says, “I will allow you to perform your piece because your fiancée is in the audience
and wants to hear it. But as soon as you’re finished, I’m taking you home where you will remain until your wedding day. After
that, you’ll cease to be my problem.” With that, he turns and stomps toward the door, motioning for those seated on the couch to
follow him.
I dart into the next room just as he pulls the door open. Peeking around the doorframe, I watch as Katya’s family walks
down the hall. The two men Viktor left behind stand on either side of the closed door. I weigh my options. Being alone like this
and in a public place, the odds are not in my favor. Still, I can’t leave my princess behind. Once Viktor has her back at his
compound, she’ll be beyond my reach.
Once Katya’s family has disappeared and the hallway is empty, I pull the hood of my sweatshirt over my head and come
out of my hiding spot. Affecting an air of nonchalance, I move down the hallway toward the guards. As I pass, I drop my keys
in front of one of the guards and keep walking. As I’d hoped, he calls to me, and when I turn around, he bends to pick up my
keys. I strike while he is in a vulnerable position, thrusting my knee into his face with such force, my knee throbs, and the sound
of breaking bone as the guard’s nose shatters is unmistakable.
I don’t pause my movements long enough to watch the guard fall to the floor as I turn quickly to deal with the second
man. He is stunned for a moment, but quickly recovers. His moment’s hesitation is all I need though, and I punch him square in
the gut. As he doubles over, I wrap an arm around his neck and squeeze. He fights hard, but within a couple of minutes, he’s
subdued. The first guard starts to get up, so I land a punch to the side of his head, knocking him unconscious as well. Moving
quickly, I drag both men into the empty room next door, then search their pockets for their phones, removing the batteries before
slipping them into my own pocket. Then I leave, locking the door from the inside and pulling it closed as I go.
I know I won’t have long before one or both men regain consciousness, but it should be enough time to get my princess
out of here. I slip through the door of the rehearsal room, immediately turning to close it, and my heart clenches in my chest as
the sound of Katya’s sobs reaches me.
I turn around to find Katya lying face down on the couch, but her alarmed, wet eyes lift to mine. “Luca?” she whimpers.
“You left,” I accuse, stalking toward the stubborn woman I intend to spend the rest of my life with.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffs, sitting up and staring up at me with her wide eyes, but I am not exactly feeling very forgiving. She
must read the danger in my gaze as she rises from the couch and runs to meet me halfway. “Luca . . . I only meant to come for a
few hours, just long enough to perform my piece. I never imagined my father . . . I didn’t even realize he knew about the
showcase. You were right, he’ll do anything to force me to marry the Albanian!”
She cries out when I spin her, pulling her side tight against my chest and delivering a sharp slap to her ass, a little
punishment for leaving after promising she wouldn’t. While I understand why she did it, she still disobeyed me and put herself
in danger.
“This is for putting your life at risk,” I growl deeply, delivering another slap, and this time, I don’t miss the way her hip
tilts up to meet my hand, her body communicating just how much she’s enjoying her punishment. My palm connects with her left
cheek and then the right one until she’s bucking against me.
“I’m sorry,” she moans, grabbing the edge of the piano in front of her to hold herself up as I reach around to the front of
her jeans and unzip her pants before yanking them down her thighs. We’re losing precious time that we should be using to make
our escape, but the anger and need coursing through my body demands an immediate outlet. She eagerly steps out of her pants,
moaning deeply when I run my middle finger over her drenched folds.
“What you said to your father is correct, princess. He can’t make you marry the Albanian because you are already mine.
My wife. And the second it opens, I’m taking you to the courthouse and filing the license. Then I’ll have a copy delivered to
your father’s doorstep,” I growl, slipping my middle finger into her pussy, and fuck me, she’s tight and wet. She bucks against
me when I start fingering her hot opening. “You like hearing who you belong to, princess?”
“Yes! Luca . . . my husband . . .”
Fuck!
“Goddamn right I am!” I rasp into her ear, my own cock leaking endlessly behind my pants. I rock my hips against her
ass even as I drive my finger faster and harder into her sex until she’s crying out, and I don’t care to mute her cries. This room
is soundproofed anyway.
“Luca, please . . . I’m going to—” she stills, clamping around my middle finger as she comes, her pussy spasming so
hard around the digit, I almost shoot in my pants, but I am not done with her. I wait for her to relax before withdrawing my
finger. I tug my waistband down and take out my cock, slapping it against her dripping sex.
 “Hang on tight, princess. I’m going to fuck you hard and fast; I’ll take my time with you later when we’re back at home,
but I need you right now!”
“Oh God!” she whimpers, slapping her palm over her mouth to hold back a scream when I drive into her so hard it
rattles the piano. I close my hands over her tits, pinching her nipples through her top as I violently drive into her sex.
Christ, I love the feeling of being inside this woman, her soft body readily taking a hard man like myself, so eagerly,
every thrust into her tight channel has her growing wetter. “I don’t care how many times you leave, I will always find you,” I
grind out, driving my cock roughly into her.
“I . . . I’m s-sorry!”
I slide my hand up to her throat, slightly tightening my grip as I punish her with the hard thrusts of my cock. “You are
mine, Katya. Mine!”
“God, yes!”
“Be a good little wife and listen to me next time!” She whimpers, the sound raw and needy. “Let me take care of you! Let
me protect you!”
“Close,” she whines, and I drop my hold on her throat before lowering my fingers to her pussy and rubbing her clit in
circles, which sends her over the edge. “Luca!”
She jerks against me, her muscles spasming around my cock and clamping hard around me, so hard it almost sends me
off the edge with her. Possessiveness rocks my body as I pin her down to the piano, pumping my cock into her with the frantic
need to remind her to whom she belongs.
“Mine!” I growl, digging my fingers into her shoulder blades as I drive my cock into her, harder and faster until she’s
bucking in my arms, and when she climaxes this time, I follow right behind. I bury my face in her neck with a low grunt as I
pump my cock into her spasming sex. My muscles strain painfully as I release my seed into her womb, love and possessiveness
flooding my system in such an overwhelming way.
“Luca . . .”
“I love you,” I breathe harshly. From the moment I spied her at the club, something inside of me shifted. There is no
going back to a life without Katya in it, and I will not spare anyone that comes between us! No one before her has made my
heart clench with both need and possessiveness the way she does.
No, living without Katya is not an option.
“I love you, Luca.” She sniffs. “I’m sorry I left. I just—”
“Doesn’t matter,” I whisper, dropping a kiss to her neck as I straighten my clothes. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Katya turns around to look at me, and I am surprised to find her face swimming with emotion. There is love, but there is
also . . . gratitude.
I’m the one who needs to be grateful to have her in my life, not the other way around. Why she would be grateful to have
a rogue such as myself in her life beats the hell out of me, but I don’t have time to question it.
We’re running out of time.
There is a smile on her face as I help her straighten her clothes, and when I grab her hand in mine to lead us out of here, I
can tell that we’re on the same page.
“Let’s go home,” I whisper, and she squeezes my hand in agreement as I lead us out of the room and away from her old
life.
 Epilogue
Six years later
Katya

The hall is packed tonight.

I know the tickets to the show sold out, but I never expected there to be so many people around, and now I can’t calm my
shaky fingers. My stomach has been turning all day, and nothing has managed to help me calm the nerves.
Christ, I’ve worked so hard preparing for this show for months only to fall apart now, but my nerves won’t let up.
Someone tugs my dress, and I look down to find two sets of eyes staring up at me. My heart swells with love as I stare
into eyes that look so much like my husband's.
“Hey boys,” I coo, crouching to their level to hug them, warmth spreading through my heart when their little arms circle
my neck. “When did you get here?”
“Just now,” Ace, the youngest of my boys says, and I pull back from the embrace to look at my sons, who are definitely
up past their bedtime, but a bigger part of me is happy to see them here. They’ve watched me play numerous shows, but nothing
as big as this.
I look up to find the love of my life leaning against the door, watching us with an easy smile on his lips. He is dressed in
his signature black, which highlights his muscular frame perfectly, and I can’t help the little tug I feel in my sex from ogling
him.
“You know you didn’t have to come,” I say, my lips parting in a smile at him being here despite my words.
“Yes, I did,” he says, pushing away from the door and walking into the room. “Since when have I missed any one of your
shows?”
He’s right. He’s never missed a single one of my performances, but that’s because they all happened in the daytime, so it
was easy to bring the boys along, but this is my first evening show. One that is meant to go for two hours, and I didn’t think the
boys could last that long, so I was sure he wouldn’t come, let alone bring the boys along.
There is no explaining how much their presence puts me at ease.
From the moment I met Luca, I haven’t felt lonely a single day. I don’t need to take on crazy hobbies to get my husband’s
attention like I did with my family. My husband does everything he promised he would do, starting with taking me to the
courthouse the morning after rescuing me from my father. He bought us rings after filing our marriage license. Then, just as he
said he would, he hired a messenger service to take a copy of the license to my father.
He was furious, of course, but there was nothing he could do. I don’t keep up with the news on what is happening
between the families, but Luca told me that Anton broke the alliance he had with my father as soon as he learned of my
marriage. The Albanians have slowly been chipping away at the Russian territory since then. Luca was able to get something
off the phones that he stole from my father’s guards that night that gave the Rossi family an edge over both the Russians and the
Albanians. I didn’t want to know the details, but whatever he found weakened my father’s organization to the point that he was
forced to flee the city. Another pakhan has since taken his place, but he has so far chosen to leave us alone.
I shudder to think what would have happened if Luca hadn’t found me that night.
“Katya, you're on in fifteen!” I look past my husband’s shoulder to find my assistant peeking in, her lips parting in a
smile when she notices the boys. “Oh, hi, Ace and Louis.”
“Hi,” the boys say uniformly, running to the sweet girl I hired to help me manage my music career.
“Steph, can you please help them get settled for the show?”
“I would love to.” She beams, taking the boys’ hands on each side and walking out with them. “Who wants a pre-show
snack?”
“Me!” the boys yell as they skip out happily, leaving me alone with my husband.
Luca extends his hand, and I grab it to help me up to my feet, drawing me flush against him. “Nervous?”
I nod, running my hands over his massive chest. “I’ve never performed in front of so many people before.”
“You’re the best cellist I’ve ever met.”
“I’m also playing the piano.”
 “That too. You’re the best at both, and I am sure the crowd will love it.”
I can’t help the smile that breaks through as I wrap my arms around his neck. “You think I’m the best at everything.”
“Well, that is because you are,” he whispers, leaning in and brushing his lips against my ear. I moan when his lips trail a
path down my throat.
“Baby, you heard Steph. I need to be on stage in fifteen,” I whisper, tilting my head back to allow him more access
despite my protest.
“I only need five,” he growls, reaching over and slamming the door shut before backing me up to it.
I should stop him, but I am weak to this man’s advances. It’s always been that way with us. One touch is enough to make
me lose my mind and forget everything.
“Luca . . .” I moan when he slides his fingers up my thigh as he kisses the hell out of my neck, nipping gently at the skin
and no doubt leaving marks. “We can’t do this here!”
“You’re nervous,” he whispers, his fingers traveling higher, and I jerk against him when he rubs his knuckle over my
panties, dragging them up and down my slit. “Let me help get rid of the nerves.”
I gasp when he slips his finger into the waistband and tugs them down before crouching to peel them down my legs. He
slides them into his pocket, and I should probably stop him. I’m not about to go to the stage with no panties on and my sex
trembling from the memory of my husband’s touch.
But there is no stopping Luca.
Whatever it is he wants . . . he gets.
And it seems he always wants me. I gasp out loud, slapping a hand on my mouth when he grabs my right leg and lifts it
over his shoulder, bunching up the skirt of my dress around my hips.
“Luca!”
“Shhh,” he says with a smirk. “Let me take care of you, princess. Clean up your pussy, so you don’t go out there all wet
and horny.”
“Oh, God!”
My knees buck when Luca presses his face between my thighs, and the strong stroke of his tongue almost sends me
sliding down the door. I bite back a sob as he drags his eager tongue over my slit, licking me up like I am his favorite dessert.
I drop my hand to his hair and grab a fistful, tugging hard and pulling his face flush against my sex. I cry out as I ride his
tongue like a crazed woman, but I can’t get enough.
I can’t get enough of this man. My husband.
Six years of marriage, and I still want him as much as I did the first day I met him, if not more.
“Close,” I pant as he licks at my arousal, my knees beginning to shake as I grow closer to an orgasm, and when his mouth
closes around my clit, sucking the bud gently, I lose it.
I come with a sob, biting into my arm to curb the sound before it makes its way to the crowd patiently waiting for my
performance. His tongue laps me up through the orgasm until I am practically melting against him.
There is a satisfied grin on his face as he rises to his feet. “Feeling better?” he says, and my eyes follow his tongue when
it peeks out to lick his glistening lips.
“Much.” I smile, eyes dropping to his tented pants. “Don’t you need my help with that?”
“Later,” he says, pecking my lips. “Something to look forward to after the show.
Someone knocks on the door. “Katya, you have ten minutes.”
There is a satisfied look on my husband’s face as he leans in to kiss my lips again. “I told you I only needed five
minutes.”
“We’re going to need more if you don’t back up,” I whisper, reaching up for a deeper kiss, but the tease actually moves
back.
“I’ll go check on the boys. We’ll be watching and cheering you on.”
He pecks my cheeks before leaving the dressing room. My thoughts are on him and the little family we’ve created for
ourselves, and when I walk on stage to start the show, I realize the nerves are gone.
 My fingers are steady as I play the cello, and I can’t help but seek out Luca in the crowd, and when my eyes lock with
my husband’s much darker ones, peace settles in my heart.
That rogue is my happy place.
And always will be.
~The End
 Up Next …

Mila
Life after my father’s tragic death has been one disappointment after another. Things only get worse when my mother abandons me, leaving me at the mercy of my
abusive stepfather. When I overhear him on the phone one night offering my virginity as payment for an outstanding debt, I know I have to get out. With nothing but the
clothes on my back, I flee and run straight into the arms of a man I never thought I’d see again. Gunner promises to protect me, says it’s his duty to my late father, who’d
trained him to be one of the best pro boxers our city has ever seen. But I want more than his protection. I want Gunner to claim me, love me, and never let me go.

Gunner
When a slip of girl crashes into me as I’m leaving the gym one night, the last person I expect to see is my late trainer’s daughter. It’s been seven years since I’ve seen her,
and now, despite the fear in her eyes and dirt on her skin, it’s clear she is all grown up and breathtaking. I might be a former pro boxer, but even I can’t fight the temptation
to claim Mila for myself. I owe it to her father to keep her safe, but I quickly realize that the best way to protect Mila is to make her mine. Anyone who wants to get to her
will have to go through me, and I’ll die before I let anyone touch what’s mine.

Other Books by Cassi

Suddenly His Series:
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Plated for the Chef

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My Secret Santa My Stalker

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Fake Athlete

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His Runaway Valentine

Dirty Puck: F*** On the Ice Rink

Zorion: Demonic Disciples

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Courting Curves:

Defending Her Heart

Sweetheart Campus:

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Boxsets:

Sweet Obsessions Boxset: Suddenly His Series Collection

His Obsession: A Stalker Collection

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Extra Credit Collection: Sweetheart Campus

Glamorous Brides Collection

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Big Alpha’s:

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Cuffing His Bride

The Hitman’s Bride

Farmer Finds a Bride

Doctor’s Surprise Bride

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His Weakness

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His Apprentice

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Dearly Devoted:

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Hacking my Stalker

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Saved by my Stalker

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Big Burly Forman (FREE book)

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The Kingpin’s Obsession

Alice
I saw something I shouldn’t have, and my life is in danger.

The police won’t listen, and I have no choice but to seek help at Benedetti’s, a bar known for its criminal clientele. But I’m
barely inside the door before a dark eyed devil drags me back out and demands to know why I’m there. I shouldn’t trust him,
but I don’t have a choice when he’s the only one willing to help me.

Too late, I learn who he really is, and now I’m left to wonder… when this is all over, will he save my life only to
break my heart?

About the Author

Cassi lives to write brazen OTT, insta-love, short stories, about possessive alphas and the women they love. Stories that will
leave you satisfied, and maybe blushing a little. Cassi loves pedicures, being pampered in any way possible, her darling
golden Princess, amazing coffee, and traveling too anywhere warm.
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onnistui hän painamaan suukkosen tyttönsä valkoiselle kaulalle.

»Rezsö, tiedäthän, että olen kieltänyt sinua suutelemasta minua»,

sanoi tyttö nyrpeästi.

»Senvuoksi juuri haluankin suudella sinua, kultaseni.

Suuteleminen ei olisi ollenkaan hauskaa, jos tytöt suostuisivat
siihen».

»En tanssi csárdásta kanssasi, jos vain vielä suutelet minua».

»En suutelekaan sinua äitisi nähden», kuiskasi poika, »mutta ehkä

sitten jälkeenpäin».

»Hsh!» sanoi tyttö punastuen. »Tuolta tulevat kreivin vaunut.

Minun on kiiruhdettava sisään, sillä muuten en saa hyvää paikkaa».

»Ja tuoltahan tuo Keményn Andráskin vihdoin tulee»! kuultiin

muutamien miesten iloisesti sanovan.

Profeetta oli ennustanut oikein. András oli luottanut Csillagiin, että

se kuljettaa hänet rapaisia teitä kirkkoon, ja Etelkakin saapui
ratsastaen poikansa tallista otetulla varmajalkaisella hevosella.

Nuorta talonpoikaa tervehdittiin monilla »Isten hozta»-huudoilla ja

parikymmentä palvelusintoista käsivartta ojentautui auttamaan
Etelkaa satulasta. Andráksen sitoessa Csillagia ja sen toveria
puuhun kiinni saapuivat Bideskuty’n neljän mustan hevosen vetämät
vaunut kirkon portille. Hevosilla oli messinkiheloin koristetut
tulipunaiset valjaat. Talonpojat siirtyivät kunnioittavasti syrjään, kun
kreivitär astui vaunuista kahisevassa silkkipuvussaan, kauniiseen
musliinipukuun pukeutuneen llonkan seurassa.
 Kreivitär Irma oli hyvin kalpea ja riutuneen näköinen. Noissa
vieläkin kauniissa kasvoissa oli uusia syviä ryppyjä ja tuon ylpeän
ylenkatseellisen suunkin ympärille oli niitä vuoden kuluessa
keräytynyt yhä useampia. Hän käveli talonpoikien ohi vastaten
heidän kunnioittaviin tervehdyksiinsä kuin kuningatar alamaistensa
kumarruksiin. Ilonka, joka oli yhtä reipas ja iloinen kuin ennenkin,
hymyili kaikille kuin iloinen lapsi. Hänellä ei nähtävästi ollut vielä
mitään huolia, sillä mitä hänen vanhempansa olivat kärsineetkään
tuon kahdeksan kuukautta sitten tapahtuneen onnettomuuden
vuoksi, eivät he olleet antaneet tyttärensä sitä huomata, ja niin ollen
oli tämän elämä vielä paljasta auringonpaistetta.

András seisoi kirkon oven vieressä pitäen äitiään kädestä kiinni.

Kun kreivitär nousi portaille, astuivat he syrjään, ja Etelka tunsi
nopeasti, että hänen kädessään lepäävä Andráksen käsi vapisi kuin
haavan lehti. Hän katsoi poikaansa ja huomasi tämän silmissä, jotka
olivat kiintyneet vieressä oleviin ylhäisiin naisiin, niin toivovan hellän
ilmeen, mutta kumminkin niin kaipaavan, että hänen äidin
sydämensä tunsi tuskaa tämän poikansa puolesta, jonka huolia hän
tuskin ymmärsi.

Kreivitär Irma oli myöskin huomannut Andráksen ja vastannut

tämän tervehdykseen, mutta kun hän saapui aivan Andráksen
kohdalle, pysähtyi hän hetkiseksi. Näytti siltä kuin hän sisimmässään
olisi taistellut jotakin kovaa taistelua pääsemättä oikein voitolle.
Sitten näytti hän tekevän nopean päätöksen ja käännyttyään nuoren
talonpojan puoleen sanoi hän:

»Bideskuty’n kreivi pyysi minua sanomaan teille, että hän haluaa

keskustella kanssanne, jos haluatte kunnioittaa häntä tulemalla
päivälliselle luoksemme tänään jumalanpalveluksen jälkeen».
 Ilonka oli pysähtynyt äitinsä rinnalle, ja hänen suuret siniset
silmänsä olivat kiintyneet uteliaasti kauniiseen nuoreen talonpoikaan,
joka näytti niin mahtavalta runsaasti koruompeluksin koristellussa
viitassaan, hopeasolkisessa vyössään, takissaan ja pitkässä
riippuvassa haikaran sulassaan, joka koristi hänen lakkiaan, jonka
hän otti kunnioittavasti päästään vastatessaan kreivittären kutsuun.

»Tulen tervehtimään kreiviä», sanoi hän kumartaen.

Seuraavassa silmänräpäyksessä katosivat kreivitär ja Ilonka

kirkon porstuaan.

Nyt näkyi isä Ambrosiuskin tulevan. Hän oli kohottanut

kauhtanansa hyvin korkealle laihojen nilkkojensa yläpuolelle
suojellakseen sitä ravalta. Kaikki menivät nyt kirkkoon, naiset
oikealle ja miehet vasemmalle puolelle. Kun ensin oli katsahdettu
uteliaasti jalosukuisiin naisiin, painettiin päät kunnioittavasti penkkien
laitoihin ja odotettiin, että isä Ambrosius aloittaisi
jumalanpalveluksen. Vaatimattomaan iän kuluttamaan messupukuun
pukeutunut vanha pappi oli tullut kirkkoon kantaen pyhiä astioita, ja
jokainen polvistui messun alussa kuunnellakseen uskontunnustusta.
Nuoremmat seurasivat latinankielisistä rukouskirjoistaan lukemista,
mutta useimmat vanhukset, joille kaikki painettu oli vielä hyvin
salaperäistä, lausuivat tyynesti rukouksiaan mumisevin äänin, joka
muodosti omituisen säestyksen isä Ambrosiuksen hiljaa lausutuille
sanoille.

Tuo hurskas, yksinkertainen kansa kuunteli kunnioittavasti

vaitiollen kirkon määräämiä sanoja ymmärtämättä niiden merkitystä,
mutta uskoen kumminkin varmasti niiden ilahduttavan Jumalaa,
koska isä Ambrosius ne luki, joka oli niin hyvä ja niin oppinut, ja
koska heidän isänsä ja iso-isänsä ja monet sukupolvet ennen heitä
olivat kunnioittaneet Jumalaa tässä samassa kirkossa tähän samaan
tapaan. Silloin tällöin äänekkäästi laulettu »Per omnia saecula
saeculorum», katkaisi toimituksen rauhallisen hiljaisuuden. Opettajan
pieni rämisevä harmooni vastasi siihen ja sen soittajan värisevin
kimein äänin laulettu »Amen» lopetti sen aina. Muuten oli kaikki
kunnioittavan hiljaista. Auringon kalpeat säteet tunkeutuivat joskus
pienistä ikkunoista valaisemaan vaatimattomia sanankuulijoita, ja
etäisyydestä kuului virran surullinen kohina lakkaamatta ja synkästi
kuin kaukainen tukahdutettu jyrinä.

Silloin ilmoitti suntion soittama pieni kello Jumalan ruumiillisen

tulon kylän pieneen kirkkoon. Kaikki polvistuivat kunnioittavasti ja
taivuttivat nöyrästi päänsä palvellakseen Vapahtajaa, joka isä
Ambrosiuksen sanojen mukaan oli poistunut ihanasta taivaastaan
yhtyäkseen tuohon valkoiseen öylättiin, jota hän piti hyppysissään.
Hetkisen vallitsi kirkossa täynnä uskonnollista pelkoa oleva
hiljaisuus, ja kun tuo pieni kello lakkasi soimasta, uskalsivat vain
muutamat katsoa alttariin, jolla olevalla valtaistuimella Jumala nyt
todellakin istui.

Jumalanpalveluksen kuluessa katsoi Etelka usein poikaansa, joka

oli polvistunut erään vasemmalla puolella olevan kivipilarin viereen,
ja huomasi, että tämä huolimatta jumalallisesta toimituksesta oli
kiinnittänyt tummat silmänsä uneksivasti aivan muualle kuin alttariin.
Hän oli ristinyt käsivartensa lujaan rinnalleen, ja kerran, kun kalpea
auringonsäde tunkeutui pienestä ikkunasta ja valaisi erään
kultakiharaisen pään, joka oli kumartunut kunnioittavasti rukouskirjan
yli, ilmestyi kyynel hänen silmäänsä ja valui hitaasti hänen ruskealle
poskelleen. Etelka näki, ettei hän rukoillut, vaan ainoastaan katsoi
tuohon yhteen suuntaan niin kaihoisasti ja ikävöiden, että Etelkakin
tunsi silmänsä täyttyvän kyynelillä. Isä Ambrosius oli alkanut laulaa
»Ite! Missa est!» Pieni seurakunta alkoi vähitellen poistua,
kokoutuakseen kirkon edustalle, johon suuren akasiapuun juurelle oli
asetettu lumivalkoisella liinalla peitetty pöytä. Sille oli ladottu vasta
teurastettujen lampaiden reisiä, munia, voita, juustoja ja savustettuja
liikkiöitä odottamaan isän siunausta.

Osa tuosta tämän hedelmällisen maan tuottamasta runsaudesta

oli aiottu hyvälle isä Ambrosiukselle ja osa taasen köyhille ja
vaivaisille, jotka eivät enää kyenneet tekemään työtä. Ylpeästi
vertasi jokainen toimelias talonemäntä omia pääsiäismuniaan
naapurien tuomiin ja totesi juustonsa valkoisuuden ja voinsa
kermarikkauden.

Pöydän keskellä olevassa suuressa hopeamaljassa oli kokonainen

paistettu karitsa, jonka kreivi oli lähettänyt siunattavaksi.
Vaatimattomampien talojen värjätyt munat ja muut pienemmät
tuotteet oli asetettu yksinkertaisille savilautasille tahi kaislakoreihin.

Seurakuntalaiset kokoutuivat pieneen kirkkotarhaan ja välittämättä

liasta ja tomusta polvistuivat he kuuntelemaan noita liikuttavia
rukouksia Jumalan siunauksen hankkimiseksi maan ensimmäisille
hedelmille. Tarhan keskelle oli levitetty matto kreivittärelle ja
llonkalle, ja heidän ympärilleen polvistuivat maalauksellisiin ryhmiin
kaikki kauniit talonpoikaistytöt ja päivettyneet nuorukaiset.

Isä Ambrosius seisoi pöydän takana levitetyin käsivarsin ja

kunnioittavasti taivaaseen päin luoduin katsein rukoillen siunausta.
Aivan hänen vieressään heilutteli pieni suntio suitsutusastiaa, josta
levisi suloista ja läpitunkevaa myrhan tuoksua ilmaan. Aurinko oli nyt
saavuttanut täydellisen valovoimansa ja sen keskipäivän säteet
panivat märän maan kovasti höyryämään ja muuttivat jokaisen
ruohokossa piilevän sadepisaran kirkkaaksi timantiksi. Kaukaa
kuuluva joen kumea kohina säesti surullisesti isä Ambrosiuksen
kuiskaten lausuttuja rukouksia.

Levitettyään kätensä kaikkien edessään olevien tavaroiden yli

pyysi kunnioitettava isä Jumalaa siunaamaan nämä maan
ensimmäiset hedelmät, ja kun hän oli lopettanut, pirskoitti hän pyhää
vettä jokaiseen munakoriin ja jokaiseen karitsanpaistiin heiluttaen
samalla suitsutusastiaa niiden yläpuolella. Hänen vanhat ystävälliset
kasvonsa loistivat kunnioituksesta ja syvästi kiitollisena ylisti hän
Luojaa tämän onnellisen maan runsaista hedelmistä. Kun viimeinen
rukous oli lausuttu ja kaikki olivat toistaneet »Amen», sanoi pappi
lopuksi seurakuntalaisilleen:

»Lapseni, nyt kun olemme kiittäneet Jumalaa kaikista hänen

antamistaan hyvistä lahjoista, ja rukoilleet hänen siunaustaan
kevään ensimmäisille hedelmille, pyydän teitä yhtymään kanssani
lämpimään rukoukseen, että taivaallinen isämme armossaan
tukahduttaisi vihansa rakastamaamme Heven maakuntaa kohtaan ja
pakottaisi Tarnan veden palaamaan uomaansa takaisin jälleen.
Meidän on rukoiltava Jumalaa, että hän hyvittäisi onnettomuuden,
joka aiheuttaa niin paljon huolta Bideskuty’n, Kisfalun ja Zárdan
herralle, jolla oli jo niin paljon vaikeuksia viime vuonna, jolloin tuo
kauhea tulipalo hävitti hänen satonsa. Sanokaamme kaikki
sydämestämme 'Isämme' ja sitten kolmasti 'Kuule meitä Maria', niin
silloin pyhä neitsyt rupeaa jumalallisille poikineen toimimaan jalon
kreivin hyväksi».

Nämä yksinkertaiset rukoukset toistettiin kunnioittavasti, kuten isä

Ambrosius oli tahtonutkin, sillä kaikki olivat todellakin suruissaan
nähdessään tulvan hävittävän tätä kaunista maata; ja nuo molemmat
jalosukuiset naiset olivat näyttäneet niin surullisilta
jumalanpalveluksen kestäessä, että heidän kärsimisensä
tyhmyyksien tähden, joille he eivät voineet mitään, tuntui kovalta.

Kuultuaan isä Ambrosiuksen kehoituksen oli kreivitär synkistynyt.

Hänen ylpeytensä kapinoi tällaista heidän vuokseen lausuttua
nöyrää rukousta vastaan, semminkin, kun sen teki kansa, jota hän
suuresti halveksi. Hän ei halunnut tunnustaa Jumalallekaan, että
onnettomuus oli uskaltanut lähestyä Bideskuty’n ylimyksellistäkin
huonetta.

András yhtyi sydämestään näihin vaatimattomiin rukouksiin, sillä

hän yksinään kaikista näistä läsnäolevista ymmärsi melkein
täydellisesti sen onnettomuuden suuruuden, jonka peloittava tulva oli
aiheuttanut Bideskuty’n kreiville. Hän rukoili lujasti uskoen, ettei tämä
onnettomuus tuota minkäänlaisia vaikeuksia tuolle suloiselle
olennolle, joka oli luotu vain iloa varten.

Viimeinen »Amen» lausuttiin ja isä Ambrosius meni kirkkoon

riisumaan yltään messukaapunsa. Kaikki nousivat seisoalleen
jutellen kuiskaillen keskenään kunnioituksesta noita molempia
ylhäisiä naisia kohtaan, jotka odottivat vaunujaan. Etelka tuli
poikansa luo, sillä hän tunsi epämääräisesti olevansa hieman
levoton hänen vuokseen. Tuon salaisen kärsimyksen ilme näkyi nyt
selvemmin Andráksen kasvoissa, ja pari kertaa oli Etelka
kuulevinaan jonkunlaisen tahdottoman huokauksen, kuin hänen
sydämensä taakka olisi ollut liian raskas hänen voimilleen.

Kreivitär ei alentunut puhumaan hänelle enää. Hän nousi

vaunuihin Ilonkan kanssa ja ajoi tiehensä jättäen Andráksen omaksi
huoleksi tulla jäljessä niin hyvin kuin hän vain voi. Hänen miehensä
oli halunnut puhutella talonpoikaa, ja se oli jo tarpeeksi suuri kunnia
tälle, jalon kreivittären tarvitsematta sitä enää puheillaan lisätä.
 »Et suinkaan aio jäädä sinne päivälliselle, András?» kysyi Etelka
levottomasti.

»Älä pelkää sellaista, äiti», vastasi András. »Haluan vain saada

selville, mitä hän haluaa, ja tulen kotiin, ennenkuin Sári ja Kati
saavat päivällisen valmiiksikaan. Sinun on annettava Dandárin
kävellä kotiin. Koska en tule kanssasi, on sinun siten turvallisempi
matkustaa».

Hän siveli kädellään silmiään kuin karkoittaakseen pois jonkun

itsepäisen unelman. Sitten hän suuteli äitiään ja nosti hänet
satulaan. Sári ja Kati kävelivät hevosen rinnalla kantaen punaisia
kenkiään, ja Keményn András katsoi noita kolmea naista niin kauan
kuin he hävisivät näkyvistä.

Kaikki muutkin olivat jo poistuneet kirkkotarhasta. Muutamat

kauniit tytöt katsoivat ikävöiden rikkaaseen talonpoikaan, joka oli niin
alakuloinen tänään. Vähitellen muuttuivat kirkon portaat ja sitten
kylän valtakatu autioiksi, sillä kaikki olivat menneet kotiinsa syömään
noita munia ja lihaa, jotka Jumala oli erityisesti siunannut. Isä
Ambrosiuskin kiiruhti jo tuolla kaukana pappilaan kantaen
kauhtanansa liepeitä. Jokaisesta raollaan olevasta ovesta kuului
iloista naurua, ja viipyessään kirkkotarhassa huomasi András
muutamia suutelevia parejakin. Taivaalta kuului juuri lämpimistä
maista kotiinsa palaavien haikaroiden surullisia huutoja, kun ne
hakivat viimevuotisia hylättyjä pesiään. Kaikki puhui ilosta,
kotionnesta, nuoruudesta ja rakkaudesta, ja András kääntyi huoaten
Csillagin puoleen ja suuteli tuota kaunista eläintä suurien
ystävällisten silmien väliin.
XVII

KÖYHTYNYT KREIVI.

Sykkivin sydämin astui András vielä kerran tuon talon kynnyksen

yli, jossa hänen ylpeyttään oli niin syvästi loukattu. Hän ei ollut
käynyt siellä sen jälkeen kuin nuo tytön kasvot olivat lamauttaneet
hänen kostavan kätensä, joka oli ollut valmis antamaan lyönnin
lyönnistä. Nyt hän arvaili, mitä tuolla ylpeällä kreivillä oli hänelle
sanottavaa. Oli tietysti selvää, että se oli jotakin hyvin tärkeätä, sillä
muuten ei kreivitär olisi pysähtynyt puhuttelemaan häntä. András
luuli, että kreivillä oli esitettävänä hänelle joku pyyntö, jonka hän
ylpeydessään oli lykännyt päivästä päivään, kunnes sitä ei enää
voitu siirtää.

Jánko oli odottanut Andrásta portilla, toinen palvelija oli ottanut

huostaansa Csillagin ja sitten oli tuo vanha palvelija opastanut
Andráksen tuohon samaan huoneeseen, jossa tuo viimeinen
myrskyisä keskustelu oli tapahtunut.

Kun Jánko avasi oven päästääkseen Andráksen sisään, istui

Bideskuty’n kreivi siellä tupakoiden. Talonpoika totesi kumminkin
tullessaan huoneeseen, että kreivi otti nyt kuitenkin piipun suustaan
ja sanoi: »Isten hozta»! ja viittasi samalla tuoliin.

András huomasi heti, miten suuresti Bideskuty oli muuttunut

vuodessa. Hän näytti jo kokonaan vanhentuneelta, vaikka hänen
hiuksensa eivät olleet sen harmaammat eikä hänen vartalonsa
vähemmän suora. Hänen iloisuutensa näytti kokonaan kadonneen.
Hänen silmiensä ympärillä oli huolten uurtamia ryppyjä ja pari syvää
sellaista oli ilmestynyt otsaankin. András tunsi olevansa hyvin
pahoillaan tuon miehen vuoksi, joka näytti saaneen kärsiä
äärettömästi tyhmyyksiensä tähden.

»Olitte ystävällinen, kun tulitte», aloitti Bideskuty hieman

hermostuneesti.

»Tulin tänne teidän korkeutenne käskystä. Miten voin teitä

palvella»?

»Ettekö ole jo arvannut sitä kuullessanne Tarnan kohisevan

pelloillani»?

»Tiedän teidän korkeutenne olevan menettämäisillään paljon,

kuten viime vuonnakin. En muista nähneeni näin suurta tulvaa sen
jälkeen kuin olin poika».

»Häviöni on suurempi kuin ehkä luulettekaan».

»Olen maanviljelijä, teidän korkeutenne», sanoi András

vaatimattomasti.
»Tiedän jokaisen hehtaarin arvon tasangolla».

Bideskuty luuli, että András tarkoituksellisesti kiersi seikkaa, josta

Hän olisi halunnut puhua. Hän ei ollut milloinkaan ollut näin suuressa
pulassa, miten aloittaa, sillä eihän hänen ennen milloinkaan ollut
tarvinnut pyytää keneltäkään mitään. Mutta nyt oli hänen kumminkin
pakko turvautua mieheen, joka oli hänen mielestään niin paljon
alhaissyntyisempi, mutta jota hän ei kuitenkaan jostakin syystä
voinut kohdella niinkuin juutalaista Rosensteinia.

András odotti tyynesti, kun Bideskuty kuivasi otsansa ja tupruutteli

suuria savuja piipustaan.

»Ovatko Kisfalussa kärsimänne vahingot hyvinkin suuret»? kysyi

hän vihdoin.

»Kuten teidän korkeutenne tietää, on Kisfalulle kuuluvia peltoja

sillä suunnalla hyvin vähän. Muutamat maissivainioni ovat kyllä
joutuneet tulvan valtaan, mutta mitään vakavampaa häviötä ei niistä
koidu».

»Teitä aina onnistaa», sanoi Bideskuty kateellisesti.

»Maailmassa on muitakin suruja kuin viljan menettäminen»,

vastasi
András tyynesti.

»Tuo johtuu kokonaan siitä, kuinka paljon kukin menettää», sanoi

Bideskuty jo hieman kiivaammasti. »Jos te, kuten minä, olisitte
menettänyt pari runsasta satoa omatta syyttänne niin, ettei teille olisi
jäänyt senkään vertaa, että voisitte kylvää seuraavana vuonna, niin
mitä silloin sanoisitte? Jos jokainen maakappaleenne olisi kiinnitetty
sen arvoa suuremmasta rahamäärästä, josta on maksettava paljon
suurempi korko kuin maa tuottaakaan, niin millaisiin toimenpiteihin
silloin ryhtyisitte? Jos koko talonne, jossa seitsemän vuosisadan
aikana kaikki esi-isänne ovat syntyneet ja kuolleet, alkaisi vähitellen
siirtyä vieraan käsiin, niin mitä silloin tekisitte? Silloin, Keményn
András, olisi teillä suruja, jotka olisivat kovempia kuin ihminen jaksaa
kantaa».

»Niin olisikin, teidän korkeutenne», sanoi András ystävällisesti,

»mutta eiväthän asianne, Jumalalle kiitos, ole vielä noin peloittavan
huonolla kannalla. Kukaan ei tiedä, paremmin kuin minä, miten
suurista rahamääristä maanne on kiinnitetty, mutta mieleeni ei ole
juolahtunutkaan ahdistaa teitä, niin mielelläni kuin nimittäisinkin tuota
kappaletta omakseni, jossa olen syntynyt ja kasvanut. Puhuitte
korosta», lisäsi hän vielä hyvin ystävällisesti, »mutta kuinka paljon
tahansa lienettekään kärsinyt näissä molemmissa
onnettomuuksissa, tuottaa maanne kumminkin, Jumalalle kiitos, niin
paljon, että voitte ruokkia perheenne ja kaikki palvelijanne, ja
maksaa koron saamistanne rahoista. Ja puhuaksemme näistä
rakennuksista, niin kuka niitä uhkaa? En ainakaan minä. En omista
niihin mitään kiinnitystä enkä ole suostunut ottamaan niitä
varmuudeksi lainatessani rahoja Bideskuty’n maita vastaan».

»Käytätte hyvin kauniita sanoja», sanoi Bideskuty kärsimättömästi,

»ja kumminkin sanoitte äsken tietävänne jokaisen hehtaarin arvon
tasangolla. Aiotteko valehdella saneessanne minun noista
muutamista pelloista, jotka eivät ole tulvan alla, saavan niin paljon
vehnää, että voin maksaa teille nuo vaatimanne sadat ja tuhannet
mitalliset, ja kumminkin ruokkia itseni, perheeni ja kaikki palvelijani»?

»Pelkään teidän korkeutenne laskevan huonosti, sillä teidän

vuosittain minulle maksamanne vehnämitalliset tuosta
kahdeksansadanviidenkymmenentuhannen floriinin lainasta, jonka
kaikkiaan olen teille antanut, eivät tee yhteensä kuin
parikymmentätuhatta mitallista, ja…»
 »Näytätte itse olevan huono laskija, enkä minä», vastasi
Bideskuty, »sillä maksan teille enemmän kuin kymmenen kertaa tuon
määrän, lukuunottamatta noita tuhansia nautoja…»

»Teidän korkeutenne», sanoi András tyynesti, »älkäämme antako

mielikuvituksemme viedä meitä enää harhaan. Saan teidän
korkeudeltanne vuodessa rahoilleni niin paljon korkoa luonnossa,
ettei se vaihdettuna rahaksi tee muuta kuin kolme tahi neljä floriinia
sadalle. Olette itse allekirjoittanut taskussani olevat paperit, eikä
pyytämäni korko ole ollut ollenkaan suuri, vaan päinvastoin hyvin
kohtuullinen. Jos olisin kiskonut tuollaisen äärettömän koron, josta
puhuitte, olisin voinut jo aikoja sitten pakottaa teidät luopumaan
Kisfalusta, jonka omistaminen on elämäni unelma. En ymmärrä
koronkiskomista, ja senvuoksi olenkin vielä vuokraaja enkä maan
omistaja».

»Ettekö tunne koronkiskomista, mies»? sanoi Bideskuty

raivoissaan. »Oletteko juovuksissa, vai hulluko olette? Uneksinko,
vai valehteletteko te? Eikö tuo verenimijä, tuo välittäjänne
Rosenstein, vie minulta joka vuosi koroiksi melkein parisataatuhatta
mitallista vehnää, neljäsataa parhainta nautaani, tuhat lammasta ja
karitsaa, ja lihavimmat hanheni ja kanani? Sanoen toimivansa teidän
puolestanne ei hän suonut minulle lepoa eikä lykkäystä, vaan saapui
luokseni noin viikon kuluttua tuosta kauheasta tulipalosta ja vaati
minulta nuo muutamat eläimet, jotka olivat pelastuneet liekeistä, ja
uhkasi sanoa lainan irti, ellen luovuta hänelle noita muutamia vilja-
aumoja, jotka säästyivät noilta kirotuilta murhapolttajilta ja joista
olisin saanut ainoat siemeneni seuraavan vuoden kylvöön.
Luovutettuani ne pakosta, tarjosi hän ne minulle takaisin
hävyttömästä hinnasta luvaten lainata minulle rahat, joilla voin ostaa
ne vielä suunnattomampaa korkoa vastaan kuin ennen».
 Tuo onneton mies vaipui hengästyneenä tuoliinsa kätkien
kasvonsa käsiinsä. Kun hän huomasi oman tyhmyytensä ja
uhkaavan vararikon, unohti hän kokonaan ylpeytensä ja
paremmuutensa. Kaikki näytti niin toivottomalta kuin hän olisi ollut
verkkoon sotkeutunut lintu, joka taistelee turhaan sitä kaikilta
suunnilta ahdistavia verkonsilmiä vastaan. András oli kalvennut
hirveästi ja kuunnellut alussa Bideskuty’n raivonpurkauksia kuin
hullun huutoja. Mutta sitten huomasi hän vähitellen miehen
katkonaisesta puheesta ja vihan, nyyhkytysten ja jonkunlaisen
vetoamisen värisyttämästä äänestä, että Bideskuty puhui vain
katkeraa totuutta. András tunsi epämääräisesti, että oli tehty joku
ennenkuulumaton vääryys, jonka uhriksi tuo herkkäuskoinen mies oli
joutunut, vääryys, joka oli suoritettu hänen — Keményn Andráksen
— nimessä, hänen, joka oli aina kunnioittanut omaa
oikeamielisyyttään kuin Jumalan puhtautta.

Vapisevin käsin haki hän taskustaan Bideskuty’n allekirjoittamat

paperit ja tutki niitä niin levottomasti kuin hän olisi toivonut niiden
voivan selittää tämän kauhean salaperäisyyden.

»Teidän korkeutenne», sanoi hän niin tyynesti kuin suinkin pitkän

väliajan jälkeen, »luullakseni emme ymmärrä vieläkään toisiamme.
Tässä kaikessa tuntuu olevan joku kauhea salaperäisyys, jonka
Rosenstein luultavasti voi selittää. Koetammeko selvittää nämä asiat
keskenämme ensin, ennenkuin käskemme häntä kertomaan,
millainen osa hänellä on tähän arvoitukseen».

Bideskuty oli onnistunut vielä kerran hillitsemään itsensä. Kun hän

katsoi velkojansa kasvoihin, jotka näyttivät niin ystävällisiltä ja
rehellisiltä, kuiskasi hänen sydämensä kerrankin hänen elämänsä
aikana, että hän luopuisi ylpeydestään ja luottaisi tuohon mieheen,
jota hän koetti halveksia; ja tehden vilpittömän liikkeen ojensi hän
kätensä hänelle.

András puristi sitä ja sanoi:

»Teidän korkeutenne on nyt ilmoitettava minulle niin selvästi kuin

suinkin, kuinka paljon luulette olevanne velkaa minulle».

»En voi sanoa teille, montako mitallista vehnää olen maksava,

mutta tiedän teidän lainanneen minulle
yhdeksänsataaviisikymmentätuhatta floriinia».

»Ei, teidän korkeutenne, vaan ainoastaan

kahdeksansataaviisikymmentätuhatta».

»Mutta niitähän on neljä lainaa».

»Vain kolme, herra kreivi».

»Kolmesataatuhatta Kisfalua, kolmesataatuhatta Bideskuty’a,

kaksisataaviisikymmentätuhatta Zárdaa ja satatuhatta tätä
rakennusta, puutarhaa, ulkohuoneita ja muita läheisyydessä olevia
rakennuksia vastaan».

»Tuossa viime lainassa en ole osallinen. Ne eivät ole minun

rahojani.
Milloin teidän korkeutenne sen otti»?

»Pari päivää tulipalon jälkeen viime syyskuussa».

»Ilmoittiko Rosenstein rahojen tulevan minulta»?

»Kun juutalaiset lainaavat rahoja, puhuvat he aina omasta

köyhyydestään ja ilmoittavat jonkun varakkaan ystävän, joka on
todellinen lainaaja. En uskonut tuota juttua ensimmäisiä lainoja
ottaessani, mutta sitten myöhemmin kuin ilmoititte rahojen tulevan
teiltä, en sitä milloinkaan enää kysellytkään».

»Ymmärrän. Teidän korkeutenne, olkaa hyvä ja jatkakaa.»

»En tiedä tarkasti, paljonko korkoa olen suostunut maksamaan.

Tuo saastainen juutalainen pakotti minut aina allekirjoittamaan
jonkun paperin, niinkuin ei unkarilaisen aatelismiehen sana olisi
tuollaisen paperin arvoinen».

»Minulla on nuo paperit täällä», sanoi András. »Onko tämä teidän

korkeutenne nimikirjoitus»?

Bideskuty katsahti papereihin, jotka Kemény ojensi hänelle.

»Kyllä tuo on kirjoitustani».

»Muistaako teidän korkeutenne varmasti koron, jonka olette

suostunut maksamaan»?

»En varmasti, mutta…»

»Oliko määrä jotensakin tällainen?» sanoi András alkaen lukea

paperista: »Olen teille velkaa kolmesataatuhatta floriinia kullassa.
Maksan siitä, kunnes suoritan sen kokonaan, korkoa joka vuosi sata
nautaa, joiden joukossa pitää olla kymmenen sonnia ja
yhdeksänkymmentä lehmää, viisituhatta mitallista vehnää ja…»

Bideskuty pudisti päätään.

»Tuosta ensimmäisestä lainasta olen maksanut nyt joka vuosi

viiden vuoden kuluessa korkoa viisikymmentätuhatta mitallista
vehnää, parisataa nautaa ja lammasta tietämättä ollenkaan, miten
paljon siipikarjaa vielä lisäksi».

»Mutta miksi, teidän korkeutenne, kun olette suostunut

maksamaan ainoastaan viisituhatta mitallista vehnää ja sata
nautaa»?

»Ilmoitan teille, että kun Rosenstein vaati tuon suunnattoman

koron ystävänsä puolesta, ystävän, jota epäilin teiksi, ei hän
luovuttanut minulle noita rahoja, ennenkuin allekirjoitin hänen kirotut
paperinsa ja lupasin maksaa tuon hävyttömän koron».

»Paperit! Oliko niitä sitten useampikin»?

»Oli. Lainatessani rahoja allekirjoitin aina kaksi paperia, En muista

oikein tarkasti…» sanoi Bideskuty toivottomasti ja epävarmasti.

»Mutta teidän armonne kai näki, mihin kirjoititte? Kai te luitte

paperit läpi ennen allekirjoittamistanne»?

»Vieköön piru kaikki sellaiset vehkeet! En katsahtanutkaan niihin,

sanon sen teille»!

»Ette katsahtanutkaan niihin»!

András oli suuresti järkytetty. Hänen huolellisesta ja toimeliaasta

talonpoikaismielestään tuntui tuollainen laiminlyönti jo rikokselliselta.
Selvästi oli juutalaisen ollut helppo saada tuo huoleton tuhlari
suostumaan mihin tahansa, joka näytti olevan niin kokonaan
tietämätön kaiken tuon arvosta, jonka hän satunnaisesti oli
luovuttanut toiselle muutamin kynän vedoin välittämättä
katsahtaakaan siihen, johon hän oli kirjoittanut nimensä.
Andráksesta tuntui se ensin niin luonnottomalta, että hän hetkisen
epäili, pelasiko Bideskuty jotakin niin ovelaa peliä, etteivät hänen
talonpoikaisaivonsa sitä kyenneet käsittämään. Mutta Bideskuty
näytti niin hämmästyneeltä itsekin, niin kiusatulta ja toivottomalta,
että András tunsi todellakin olevansa pahoillaan hänen puolestaan.

»Miksi halusi teidän korkeutenne puhutella minua tänään»?

»Pyytääkseni, teitä alentamaan hieman noita korkoja», sanoi

Bideskuty hermostuneesti. »Luulin teidän helposti voivan sen tehdä
menettämättä paljonkaan.»

»En ole milloinkaan, herra kreivi, menetellyt niin kunniattomasti,

että olisin harjoittanut tuollaista koronkiskomista teitä kohtaan»,
sanoi András hymyillen. »Silloin olisin täydellisesti ansainnut tuon
iskun päähäni kahdeksan kuukautta sitten, jonka arpi vieläkin näkyy.
Huomaan nyt selvästi, että tuo kirottu juutalainen on käyttänyt
rahojani ja nimeäni mitä rikollisinpaan koronkiskomiseen, enkä voi
olla sanomatta — teidän korkeutenne suokoon minulle sanani
anteeksi — että olette antanut ryövätä omaisuuttanne
anteeksiantamattoman välinpitämättömästi».

»Mitä voinkaan tehdä, sillä tarvitsin rahaa».

»Teidän korkeutenne tietää parhaiten, mihin sitä tarvitsitte. Noista

rahoista ei ole minkäänlaista hyötyä, ja teidän korkeutenne saa nyt
kärsiä suuresti onnettomien päähänpistojensa vuoksi».

»Teillä ei ole mitään oikeutta puhua minulle tuolla tavoin, sillä

tekojani ei tarvitse kenenkään arvostella, ei ainakaan sellaisten kuin
te…»
 »Älkäämme riitautuko jälleen, jalo kreivi», sanoi András, joka tällä
kertaa oli päättänyt olla menettämättä malttiaan. »Koettakaamme
mieluummin tuumia, miten parhaiten voin auttaa teidän
korkeuttanne. Tietysti voin riistää tuolta kirotulta juutalaiselta nuo
toiset paperit, jotka olette antanut lainoista, joita ette todellisuudessa
ole saanutkaan minulta».

»Mitä aiotte tehdä niille»? kysyi Bideskuty hieman epäilevästi

vieläkin.

»Aion hävittää ne», vastasi András vaatimattomasti.

»Onnettomuudeksi en voi pakottaa Rosensteiniä luovuttamaan teille
takaisin kaikkia teiltä vaatimiaan korkoja. Voin peloittaa hänet kyllä
melkein kuoliaaksi», lisäsi hän, »mutta luullakseni ei siitä olisi mitään
hyötyä».

»Tuo ei ole kaikista pahinta», sanoi Bideskuty huoaten, »sillä

mennyt on aina mennyttä. En voi maksaa tuon viimeisen lainan
korkoja enkä lyhentääkään sitä, ja teidän ja Rosensteinin suoma
lykkäysaika loppuu tämän viikon kuluessa. Minulla ei ole enää
äyriäkään, kaikki paras maani on tulvan alla, karjani ei ole tointunut
tuon kauhean syyskuun yön jälkeen ja kaunis Bideskuty’n
päärakennus, jossa olen syntynyt ja jossa olen toivonut saavani
kuolla, joutuu vieraiden käsiin — joko teidän tahi Rosensteinin —»
lisäsi tuo mies-raukka ollen valmis jälleen menettämään toivonsa.
»Minusta on se melkein sama, karkoittaako minut kotoani juutalainen
vaiko talonpoika».

»Teidän korkeutenne ei siis muista, mitä tuossa paperissa oli,

jonka annoitte vastineeksi näistä rakennuksista».
 »Sanoinhan teille jo, etten lukenut noita allekirjoittamanhan!
papereita».

»Niin, kuulin sen», sanoi András kärsimättömästi huoahtaen,

»mutta kai teillä kuitenkin on selvillä, kuinka paljon nyt olette velkaa
tuosta viime lainasta ja sen koroista»?

»Tiedän saaneeni satatuhatta floriinia, josta minun on maksettava

suunnaton korko. En ole kumminkaan maksanut siitä mitallistakaan
vehnää enkä nautaakaan, ja nyt kun koko satoni on tulvan alla, en
voi maksaa sitä milloinkaan enkä muitakaan velkojani teille».

»Velastanne minulle puhumme sitten myöhemmin kuin olemme

tyydyttäneet Rosensteinin ja vapauttaneet teidät varmasti hänen
kynsistään. Minulla ei ole rahoja mukanani tänään, mutta menen
puhuttelemaan häntä huomenna ja tarkastan samalla nuo paperit.
Voimme ainoastaan rukoilla, herra kreivi, että saan ne haltuuni
kohtuullisesta korvauksesta. En ole tehty rahasta», lisäsi András
hymyillen, »kuten teidän korkeutenne on usein sanonut, mutta
Jumalalle kiitos kumminkin, minulla on vielä sen verran, että voin
pitää teidät velallisenani ottamatta huomioon näitä rakennuksia, sen
sijaan, että olisitte velkaa juutalaiselle. Voin luvata teidän
korkeudellenne varmasti, etten milloinkaan tule kovistamaan teitä
koroista».

Bideskuty näytti tuskin uskovan korviaan kuullessaan millaisen

äärettömän palveluksen tuo nuori talonpoika näin tyynesti tarjoutui
tekemään hänelle. Viimeisten kuukausien kuluessa oli hänen tilansa
tuntunut niin toivottomalta ja hän oli ollut niin kovasti pahoillaan
välttämättömältä näyttävän vararikkonsa vuoksi, että tämä
toivonsäde, jonka tuo mies niin vaatimattomasti hänelle näytti, tuntui
liian heikolta läpäistäkseen hänen alakuloisuutensa raskaan vaipan.