Arranged Mafia Daddy

Chapter 13Viktor

13

Viktor

I jumped the gun by claiming Sage before the wedding, but perhaps it was for the best because we certainly won’t be having any intimacy tonight. I’m on a mission to find Johnny and ask him what he knows about Mr. Thompson and the leak.

“You’re going to go with Ivan back to the house,” I say to Sage, trying to pry her off my torso.

Her fingers only dig deeper into my ribs, and she makes an unhappy grunt. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whines.

“You’re safer at the house. Something isn’t right, and I need to figure this out before it gets out of control,” I reply, trying not to sound too harsh. She’s definitely in shock after what I did to her father, but I did warn her about it.

“I want to help,” she says, holding me so hard that it hurts.

I wince, trying to pry her off. I didn’t realize she was so strong, but it seems that she’s not going anywhere unless I can convince her to return to the house with Ivan.

“Listen, darling, this is about your safety,” I say softly.

She laughs, and its ice cold. I haven’t heard a laugh like that from her before. “I’ll never be safe in the Bratva. If you really cared about my safety, you would’ve brought me back to my father before the wedding, but you chose to keep this going. You chose me, and now you have to deal with me.”

“And I will deal with you… once I’m home. You need a good spanking,” I reply, switching my tactics. I lay a hand on her ass, tapping it lightly. “I won’t go easy on you.”

She grabs my hand, forcing me to spank her as she looks up at me. “Do whatever you want to me, Viktor. Punish me like the stupid little slut you think I am, but I still want to go with you.”

Her words give me an ungodly rush more powerful than the drugs I used to take as a teenager to cope with my family’s death. It’s scary how intoxicating she can be when she wants to. I’m sure she could get me drunk off her sexual energy and take advantage of me if she really wanted.

Thankfully, she’s only using it to tag along on my little adventure, and I’m thinking it’s not worth the trouble trying to argue with her.

“Fine,” I say, squeezing her ass and pulling her closer. “If you want to go all-in with the Bratva, so be it. Just don’t start begging for a therapist when you get traumatized.”

“I’m already traumatized,” she mutters.

“Oh, darling,” I reply, running my finger under her chin. “You don’t know trauma like I do.”

I don’t leave her any time for a response. We continue moving down the hallway to the exit on the left side of the house, away from the crowd. The party will continue as usual, but we won’t show up. Let our guests think what they want, but we have other matters to attend to.

Ivan is already outside, standing beside the car that’s going to take us to my casino. I know who Johnny is, and where he works. He slinks around the blackjack tables, but occasionally deals poker when someone else is absent.

He’ll be starting his shift this afternoon, but he’s not going to make it to the table. We’ll be ready for him once he arrives.

“Why would Johnny know anything about the wedding?” I ask myself as I slide into the white leather seat in the back of the car.

Sage slides in beside me, and Ivan goes to the front to drive us.

“Maybe he learned it from someone else,” Sage offers.

“And your father came in and singled him out… why?” I ask. “Security should’ve kept him out, anyway. I doubt he even made it into the casino. How would he have even asked Johnny anything?”

“Sounds like a question you should ask Johnny,” she replies. “And don’t call him my father anymore. I don’t like hearing it.”

“What do you want me to call him?” I ask, a little surprised.

“You used to call him Mr. Thompson.”

“Sounds awfully formal,” I reply.

“Thompson is fine,” she says, annoyance building in her voice. “Anything, just not my father. He’s dead now, anyway, right?”

I nod. “You can’t live long with a smashed head.”

“That’s gross,” she says, wrinkling her nose at me as we pull away from the estate. “Are you always so crass about everything?”

“Relative to the other things I’ve seen and done, that’s nowhere near crass,” I say, putting my hand on her thigh. “But you wanted to be involved in the business end of things instead of just enjoying the money and power.”

She purses her lips as she looks at me. Even when she’s annoyed, she’s still unbelievably beautiful. The mascara stains on her face don’t change that at all.

“You might want to clean up the makeup before we get there,” I say, pointing at her face.

“More crassness,” she mutters, flipping down a mirror in the back seat. She gasps when she sees herself. “Shit, you’re right.”

I chuckle. “I can’t remember a time I was wrong.”

“I’m ignoring you right now,” Sage says as she tries to wipe the mascara off her cheeks with her thumb and a little saliva. She’s trying not to smudge the rest of her makeup, but it’s obviously difficult.

“You look beautiful,” I say, which is a genuine compliment. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, but I’m not sure if she believes me yet. I hope I can prove it to her, eventually.

She continues ignoring me, as she said she would, until her makeup smudges are less noticeable. She flips the mirror backup with a groan of annoyance, shaking her head. “Good enough, I guess.”

“Well, it isn’t a fashion show. We might be killing someone else today,” I say.

She rolls her tongue under her lips, narrowing her eyes at me. “Just how many people have you killed so far? I think you get off on it, honestly.”

I shrug. “I’ve lost count.”

“When was your first?”

I’m hit with a wave of memories at her question, many unwanted, but still fresh, like they happened yesterday. I don’t want to remember it, but there are even worse memories that haven’t cropped up in conversation, so this isn’t the worst thing she could be asking about.

I take a sharp breath through my nose before answering her. “It was a long time ago, but it feels like yesterday. You don’t forget your first kill.”

She nods slowly, clasping her hands together as she senses the gravity of what I’m telling her.

“Do you hate me for killing your father… I mean, for killing Thompson?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “How could I hate my husband?”

I laugh through my nose. “Good answer, but I want you to be real with me. Do you hate me?”

She pauses for a moment, her eyes unfocused for a moment before she can answer. “I don’t know,” she finally says. “Does it matter? We’re stuck together.”

“Right,” I reply, a bit disappointed. I liked her first answer a lot better. “Well, I hated the man who killed my father, so maybe it’s not the same feeling. But you might be able to understand, anyway.”

“At least we have something in common,” she says with a smile, but it fades as she realizes she may have misspoken. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make light of your loss.”

I wave a dismissive hand as I pull a cigar from my jacket pocket. “Don’t worry about. I’m not sad anymore. I barely even remember my family. It feels like a whole different lifetime, like it wasn’t my family at all. My mother, my sister, and my father all died at the same time, more or less.”

“That’s awful,” she says, holding a hand to her heart. “I’m really sorry.”

I smile at her as I light my cigar. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

She shakes her head. “Hardly.”

“I think so.”

She shrugs, waiting for me to get my cigar going before speaking again. I can tell she has more questions, probably more than I’m willing to answer. “Why did it happen? Mafia business?”

I shrug. “Bad people with even worse intentions. The leader of the group, a thug by the name of Vlad, decided my father’s little bar was a threat to their chain of shady clubs throughout the city. The told him to pack up and move out, and when he didn’t, they came and… Well, did some terrible things.”

“They killed him,” she says softly.

I grit my teeth. “More than that, but I didn’t feel like talking about it,” I reply, puffing smoke into the car until it becomes hot and sour.

“You don’t have to, but I feel like I should know about my husband,” Sage says, putting her hand on my leg. “You can ask me anything, too, by the way.”

“You’re not ready for the truth. I can promise you that,” I say as the car comes to a stop in front of my casino. “Time to go. We can talk more tonight. I doubt you’re going to be able to sleep after this.”