Page 35 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation

She sighs. “Fine. I’ll meet you at eight forty tonight, on the east side of the park near Sixty-Ninth.”

Scared isn’t an emotion I allow myself to feel.

I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen, since Mama was killed… murdered. Losing her sent Dad into a tailspin.

I hunted the man who killed her, some lowlife who wanted to use Volkov and Dad said no.

I found him, seduced him, and shot him dead. Badly. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I somehow managed it. I never let myself feel fear. The entire time. Just motivation and purpose.

But I did feel abandoned and alone because of what this bastard took from us, and the fact that I never really got my father back, not even after he met Elena.

Dad might have cared for Elena, but it was a marriage that reeked of convenience, and he’d clocked out emotionally after Mama’s death. His spirit left with her.

And nothing feels lonelier than when you live with people who either aren’t present or just treat you like a stranger passing through.

Elena did that. I don’t blame her, but marrying a man with an eighteen-year-old daughter wasn’t her thing. She was probably nineteen or twenty when they married. And close to Romanov. Tatiana was everything to her, for as brief a time as they had together.

I wasn’t scared when I confronted Mama’s killer. I wasn’t scared when Dad and Elena died. Or when Stan did. I was angry, though.

So fucking angry.

My hatred for Seamus Murphy has fueled me, and it’s going to continue fueling me through this, too, because the Murphys are the perfect family for me to use.

But I won’t lie. I’m fucking scared right now while I loiter outside the sex club, Silk and Leather. It’s a high-end place because the people I’ve seen turn up are dressed to the nines like they’re going to a fancy dinner party. Each time the door opens, warm light casts a glow on the stairs, soft and inviting, and a man in a tuxedo greets all who enter.

But I’m not here for what happens behind closed doors. I take a breath, that feeling of being watched still hovering over me like an ominous cloud I can’t seem to escape. I duck myhead to hide my bruised and bloody lip, courtesy of Maria’s fist. I needed to show up here looking like I was desperate for protection, so she did me a solid right before I was set to show up at the address on the card.

I cross the road and look for a side door.

When I find it, I see the keypad and punch in the number texted to me.

A dark set of stairs leads upward. I grab on to the railing and slowly ascend, my heart thrashing in my chest with each step I take.

One foot in front of the other.

Heat creeps up the sides of my neck and floods my cheeks.

There’s another keypad at the top of the stairs. I punch in the number again and the door opens to an expansive grand room. I walk through it, past the art on the walls, the sofas and chairs and coffee tables, and I look around.

There are a couple more doors, and for a moment, I’m flummoxed.

No keypads. Just old-fashioned locks. I look down, all the gaps between doors and floor are dark. Except for one.

I go to the door with the golden sliver of light streaming out from under it.

A shudder runs through me as I palm the gun and knife in my bag to give me a sliver of confidence. I let out an unsteady breath and look at my phone.

It’s eight fifty-nine.

I knock.

Footsteps cross a softly creaking floor.

My heart leaps into my mouth.

If this is Seamus, then… then I’ll kill him.

But no, I know I won’t. Not if I want my bratva. Not if I want to stay out of the clutches of Iosif.