Dirty Passions An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance (The Lion and The Mouse #5) - Kenya Wright Page 0,53

mean?”

“I’m taking your baby too.”

“Hey. I think that’s unnecessary.”

The sky was grey and foggy. The air grew cold and damp.

Among all of the grieving, I thought of X. He’d died in Prague on the same night as Kazimir’s uncle.

I miss you so much, X. Where will I scatter your ashes? Max and I have to get on that soon.

Struggling to hold back the grief, a tear fell down my face. I wiped it away.

At the burial site, the older woman in the purple and silver robe shared some words. She said something that brought an onslaught of tears from the surrounding crowd.

The casket lowered into the grave.

I scanned the crowd.

Zahkar and his wife stood across from us. Zahkar’s attention was on the coffin. However, his wife’s gaze focused on Kazimir, as he held his niece.

What’s her story? I know she better stop staring at my man like that.

I assessed her outfit. She wore a black suit with a very revealing cleavage and dark hair flowing down around her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes met mine. She must have felt me staring at her. She formed her lips into a smile, but I knew she didn’t mean it.

I don’t do fake, sweetie. I’ll have to ask Kaz about her later.

I didn’t smile back and took in the others across from me.

Nikolay held his wife close to him. Although they wore black suits, he brought the evil sorcerer cape back. The one he wore to Kaz’s party. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that his wife had a matching one too.

I looked at the other side. Abram watched me. He stood several feet down from Zahkar’s wife. He had on a dark gray suit with a blood red tie. He held his hands in front of him which caught my eye. For the first time since seeing him, I realized that he only had a thumb and a single finger on his left hand. The middle three fingers were missing.

What happened to you?

I reminded myself to ask Kaz, but I never got the chance.

We turned toward the limo with an awakened Natalya.

Kaz rushed us to the vehicle. “Hurry, mysh.”

“What are you doing?” I glanced over my shoulder, searching for Valentina. “Does your sister know you’re kidnapping her daughter?”

“She’s my niece.”

“Oh my God.”

He opened the door and climbed in before me.

Natalya giggled at Kaz and grabbed the point of his nose.

I got in the limo and scooted next to them.

Natalya gurgled something, trying to speak.

Our driver shut the door.

“I can’t believe we’re leaving without saying anything to your sister.”

“If I said anything, she would take Natalya from me.”

Natalya continued to squeeze Kaz’s nose. He popped his eyes open and made a high pitched noise. The little girl lost her mind with laughter. She let go of his nose. He returned his expression back to normal.

The limo drove away.

Valentina is going to shoot us.

Natalya brought her hand back to his nose and squeezed. Again, Kaz popped his eyes open and screeched. The baby giggled with glee.

“See.” Kaz nodded at her. “She prefers my company this afternoon.”

Natalya gurgled something.

“Do you want to see a puppy today?” Kaz smiled at her. “If you like him, then I will get you as many puppies as you want.”

I grinned at her. “But first, we’ll ask your mommy if it is okay.”

“No. Uncle Kazimir never has to ask. Whatever Natalya wants, she gets.”

“Oh wow. That’s how it is.”

This is my future—a spoiling dad. I guess that’s better than what I had.

Once we arrived at the castle, Kaz and I played with Natalya in our room. Harlem performed for the little one, jumping and trotting around. A pissed off Valentina grabbed her an hour later.

Chapter 12

My Partner-in-Crime

Kazimir

After the funeral, we partied as only the Brotherhood could—expensive booze, loud music, and high end food. While Misha didn’t honor most of Uncle Igor’s wishes on what to do after his death, he made sure to put in plenty of spectacles that would appease his followers by combining two of my uncle’s favorite rituals—The Drowning of Death, and the Carnival of the Dead.

The Czech Republic had an ancient custom called The Drowning of Death. Many Slavic tribes considered it an important religious ritual. Uncle Igor had always celebrated it. The custom heralded the end of winter. Villagers took straw mannequins dressed in rags to the river and threw them in, symbolizing the death of winter and rebirth of spring.

Uncle Igor had told me that the ritual had originally involved human sacrifice. The

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