Dirty Passions An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance (The Lion and The Mouse #5) - Kenya Wright Page 0,46

until a certain amount of months.”

I chuckled, “I’m sorry, but I won’t be able to do that. I texted my sister, when we left the doctor.”

“Wow. You couldn’t keep it a secret for longer than ten minutes?”

“She’ll be here this evening and will probably annoy you the whole time. She’s super excited.”

“I can’t believe you texted her that fast.”

“And then I told the staff, when I arrived at the house.”

“The staff.” She grinned. “Please, tell me. That’s it.”

“My men also know.”

“Just your main security?”

“Yes. Plus, I had a small party with the fellas to celebrate the baby last night.”

She shook her head.

“Maxwell—”

“What? You told Max, before me?”

“It couldn’t be helped.”

“Oh my God. Who else was at the Bros over Hoes bash?”

I smirked. “Zahkar, David, Abram, Nikolay, and Pavel. I treated them to a little male spa day—cigars, barbers, and brandy.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I didn’t tell anyone yet.”

“Then, you better hurry. I plan to tell the world.”

Emily laughed. “I’m sure the world already knows.”

“Hmmm. Is that my cousin waiting for me? Someone must’ve told Misha I was here.” I gestured to the window.

Misha stood tall among everyone else around him. Tanned skin and dark hair. Chiseled features that the Saint Petersburg women loved. And right next to him, a beautiful woman held his hands. Black hair outlined her brown face. She had the ballerina figure—slim frame with a few curves.

That must be Ava. Misha’s little ballerina.

My cousin had sworn I met Ava a few times. Apparently she was my ex-lover Olesya’s best friend. However, I didn’t remember ever seeing Ava, before this moment.

Several men surrounded Misha. The signature brotherhood bunch—scarred faces and blood-hungry expressions. Huge, tall, and built. Tattoos peeking out of designer suits.

“Does Misha know I’m pregnant?” Emily asked.

“Not yet.” I gave her a wicked smile.

The limo parked in front of the new couple.

When the driver opened the door, I left, then held my hand for Emily, and helped her out.

“Cousin.” Misha walked over and greeted me with a huge hug, pecking both of my cheeks. “I’m glad to see that you have your mouse safely back with you.”

“Me too.” I leaned toward his ear. “She’s pregnant.”

Letting go of our hug, Misha widened his eyes and turned to Emily. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, Misha.” She held an uncomfortable expression and whispered to me, “Really, Kaz? It took you three seconds.”

“Actually two.”

Misha gestured to Ava as she stepped up to us. “This is my girlfriend Ava Jones—the first black prima—”

“Misha, that is unnecessary.” Ava held her hand out to Emily. “Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands.

Emily smiled. “I heard you were from New York.”

“Bronx,” Ava said.

“Harlem.”

“Love it.”

At the mention of his name, the puppy barked and jumped out of the limo.

We should have brought the leash.

“Aww.” Ava lowered and petted the furry devil. “So cute. What’s his name?”

“Harlem. That’s why he came out. He must’ve thought I was calling him.” Emily picked him up and let Ava pet him some more. “Not that creative, but being in Russia, I miss New York sometimes. This is a little bit of my city here.”

Ava waved at me. “And. . .we know each other already, Kazimir.”

We don’t, but I’ll be nice to you, since your Misha’s ballerina.

“It is nice to meet you. . .again, Ava.” I shook her hand.

Appearing a bit nervous, she took her hand back.

Misha gestured back at the castle. “My girlfriend and her grandmother put together the festivities, so let’s get you settled.”

He gave the plans to his girlfriend and grandmother? Interesting. How did that happen?

Misha held Ava’s hand and led us up the stairs to the castle. His men moved out of the way.

Misha looked over his shoulder. “You’ll get your usual bedroom. I have to greet the other guests. In an hour, let’s meet in the Bathhouse.”

He has something he wants to discuss away from the women.

“Sounds good, cousin.”

Misha and Ava went down the other hallway.

And I headed for my bedroom.

This is a new sort of welcome.

Usually, Uncle Igor gave me the grand tour. Every visit brought a new strange wonder in his hallways of horror. Always he wanted to show me something that tended to leave me unsettled.

I wonder how much Misha and his girlfriend have changed the place.

Emily and I entered the massive space.

“Hmmm.” I stopped.

Emily stood next to me, holding Harlem. “Wasn’t there a creepy wooden stage with a throne here?”

Creepy was correct. Tiny fanged-faces had been engraved into the woodwork. They were all on the stage’s floor and even cut along the sides, giving the appearance that tiny people held