Dirty Passions An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance (The Lion and The Mouse #5) - Kenya Wright Page 0,47

my uncle’s throne up. Every day he would sit on it with a crown of thrones propped on his head.

“You’re correct. The stage is gone.” I took everything in. “Usually, people are in here kneeling as my uncle sits on his throne.”

Things will never be the same.

Oddly with the throne gone, the reality of his death hit me harder. No longer would I see him again. Those moments we shared here in Prague would be the only times.

He would have been happy to hear about Emily’s pregnancy.

Emily put Harlem on the ground. As if she heard my thoughts, she hugged me. “I’m here, when you need me.”

“Do I look sad?”

“Yes, but that’s to be expected.”

“I know my uncle is happy and with my aunt, but. . .I will miss him.”

“I’ll be here the whole time.” She kissed me on my cheek and left my hold.

I pulled her back and consumed those lips. She sighed, when I let her go.

Off in the distance, Harlem barked.

“We really should have brought a leash.” I frowned. “He doesn’t get that he should remain with his alphas.”

“Yeah. I wonder how that happened.” She giggled and headed off in Harlem’s direction.

We walked down the dark hallway lit by small torches on the wall.

At least everything isn’t changed.

The place still had the feel of a medieval castle.

Several feet, Harlem continued to yap at someone.

Emily looked at me. “How was it growing up in a castle?”

“My mother already spoiled me. It didn’t help, when we moved here. I pretty much thought of myself as the king of this place.”

“So that’s where that ego came from?”

“Mysh.” I winked at her. “I was born with this ego.”

We continued forward. After a while, we were three feet from Harlem’s yapping.

There you go.

Emily picked Harlem up.

On the right, I checked to see if the entrance to the prison was still there. Uncle Igor imprisoned men he considered deviants—rapists, pedophiles, and others that preyed on what they presumed weak.

We came close and I stopped and stared. Usually guards played chess on a black and ivory table with red chess pieces, while the prisoners hung nude and chained to the wall.

But not today.

“Kazzy bear!” My uncle’s second-in-command Rolan rose from the chess board and headed my way.

No. Don’t say Kazzy Bear in front of Emily.

At sixty-two, Rolan looked pretty damn young and still bad ass. He was the reason why I didn’t fear aging. Rolan’s head was cleanly shaven. His gray goatee shaped up. He looked bigger than I remembered him. Those biceps stretched in the strawberry red dress shirt while his big thighs pushed against his black pants.

He had tattooed roses around his throat as a memorial to his mother Roza. Holy crosses and skulls covered his hands. Rolan yanked me into a massive hug. “How are you, Kazzy bear?”

“I am not Kazzy bear anymore, Uncle.”

“Yes. Yes.” Rolan let me out of the hug and patted my back. “You are the lion now. I never liked that you picked that animal. Why not a bear?”

I pursed my lips. “Because you are the Big Bear.”

“But, it would have nice for you to be the Little Bear.”

I frowned. “No. It would not.”

Many called Rolan the Big Bear for a reason. Not just for his size and height. He killed like one, knocking a person out and snapping their head off in one swift swoop. Not only was Little Bear suggestive of my being smaller than him, but no one could truly stand in his shadow. He had created a worthy name and legacy within the brotherhood. It was too bad that he had never had kids of his own.

“I’m glad you came early, Kazzy Bear.” Rolan gestured to the black woman at the table that he’d been playing chess with. “This is my new girlfriend Jacqueline.”

“Excuse me, but I’m not his new girlfriend.” She rose. “And my name is Mrs. Jones.”

Emily grinned. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Jones.”

The woman held a warm smile. “I’m Ava’s grandmother. Have you met her?”

Emily nodded. “We did. So, are you from New York too?”

“Yes, by way of New Orleans.”

“Oh my.”

“Nice to mee you, Mrs. Jones.” I studied the woman. “That makes more sense that you’re not Uncle Rolan’s girlfriend. You look too classy and intelligent.”

Mrs. Jones beamed. “Thank you.”

Rolan touched his chest and dramatically leaned back like he’d been shot. “That hurt my heart, Kazzy bear.”

Emily extended her hand to Rolan. “Hello.”

“The mouse!” He pulled Emily and the puppy into a hug. “I’m Rolan and I’ve heard a lot.