His Smile: A Mafia Romance Read online

  “Never mind,” Roman stood up from his chair blocking in the girl between the desk and his legs, while looking directly at Amin. “I think I got what I needed. Now let us get down to business. Can you give me a digital version of the same files?”

  Fearing he may be losing the deal at Roman’s abrupt change, Amin nodded with a courteous smile. “Of—of course let me get my son, Riaz, to put it on a flash drive.”

  Walking around to the door, the older man didn’t even consider looking down. Once he was gone, Roman stepped back and held out a hand to the huddled young woman. Feeling her soft hand wrap around his, Roman pulled her up until they were face-to-face. Surprise lit her eyes as she tilted her head back to look up at him.

  “Wow, I didn’t realize how tall you are,” she murmured, seemingly forgetting the whole point of this was for her to escape.

  Not saying anything, he tugged her to the window behind the desk and opened the latch. Standing on the other side in the flower bed was Mosca. Moments before, he texted his lieutenant to be ready by the window. Turning to her, Roman grabbed her by the waist, and just like he suspected the dancer in her complied instinctively. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she allowed him to lift her up and through the open window into Mosca’s arms. Roman was pulling the window shut when she stopped him.

  “Hey,” still in Mosca’s arms she leaned towards him through the open window. “Just grab the Mercedes key real fast.”

  Roman all but slammed the window in her face as Dimitri laughed behind him.

  “Here we are,” Amin announced as he stepped back into the office. Handing Dimitri the flash drive, he looked to Roman who was standing in front of the window near his office chair. “As I was saying Mr. Mashir,” Amin began nervously, trying to retake control of this floundering meeting.

  “Let us speak frankly Mr. Chopra” Roman cut the man off before he could start rambling again. Roman had to force himself to turn away from the view of Rahina outside the window, who was currently talking exuberantly to his confused lieutenant. Now that she was gone it felt like he had somehow survived a tornado that blew through the office. He realized what it was about her that bothered him. She was like a bursting firework to his gray, dull life; her very presence felt like a reminder of everything he was missing out on and it pissed him off.

  With cold eyes and an even colder smile, Roman turned from the window and met Amin Chopra’s stare. “You’re not necessarily in the best position to negotiate.” He ignored the man’s astounded look and continued past his attempt to interject. “We know that your oldest son, Amit, went out and bragged to the Italians about your newly found success in the data collection business, and to no one’s surprise other than you, the Italians now want to muscle in on your business.” Grim resignation reflected on the older man’s face at Roman’s hard-hitting truth. “I have been watching you for some time, Mr. Chopra, ever since you started this venture, and I am well aware the last thing you want are the Italians in your life.”

  Sitting heavily in the same leather chair Roman sat in previously, Mr. Chopra gave him a tired look. “What are you offering Mr. Mashir?”

  “Ten percent of your profit,” Roman replied, letting his gaze pass over the family photo on the man’s desk. It was a photo of all the women in Amin’s family, all dressed in traditional Bangladeshi garb. Roman could tell the photo was old, taken maybe four to five years ago. He spotted Rahina’s face immediately out of the similar looking women. The exuberance and dynamic energy practically radiated from the glossy photo. No one should have that much damn energy, he thought.

  “Ten percent?!” Amin choked, the look of disbelief and wariness intertwined on his shocked face. There was an unspoken “is that it” in the man’s voice.

  Roman knew Italians offered to take thirty percent in return for their protection.

  “Ten percent and all the data you collect,” Roman said, watching as the understanding settled over Amin.

  Nodding, Amin accepted the deal with a sigh. Ten percent of his profits will be paid to Roman as well as a twice a week data dump to Roman’s servers. In return, Roman wouldn’t kill him and nor would the Italians.

  As the older man walked them back to the front door Roman paused.

  “Take down these photos,” Roman looked pointedly to the huge family photo near the door. “And control your son or I will, and most importantly,” and for the first time that day Roman let his smile fade away, staring at the older man with obvious anger. “Never send one of your daughters in to serve tea to a pair of criminals.”

  Chapter 2

  When Rahina asked her brother Riaz that day about the tall, grinning man their father had a meeting with, the look he gave her told her that the man wasn’t just one of her dad’s run-of-the-mill shady connections.

  “Don’t worry about it, why are you here anyway?” Riaz questioned, obviously trying to change the subject.

  Crossing her arms, she simply gave Riaz an awaiting look, ignoring his question. The worried, haggard look on his face as he sat in the living room staring impatiently at their father’s closed office door only served to pique her curiosity even more about the man with the large smile. Still waiting for their father to come out of his office and share the results with him, Riaz gave her a frustrated sigh when he noticed her persistent stare.

  “Look, the man is some sort of Russian mobster, who we really need to agree to work with us or we’re going to be in some deep shit if we can’t get the Italian guys off of our back,” he ground out quickly, before standing up to focus his frustration into pacing.

  This was why she rarely came home. Ever since Rahina could remember her dad had always been into shady deals with her uncles. From receiving shipments of stolen cars at the docks or fencing containers worth of counterfeit goods, her dad and uncles were behind it, enthusiastically turning a profit. Though it was no surprise her eldest brother Amit would follow into his father’s footsteps, Rahina was shocked and very disappointed to see her MIT graduate brother, Riaz, leading their father’s current scheme. Unlike Riaz, she refused to be caught up in her family’s notorious legacy. The moment she turned eighteen, Rahina had accepted an offer at the Boston Ballet Company in their corps-de-ballet position, happily rooming with four other girls in a cramped rundown three-bedroom downtown. After a few years of hard work, she moved to the coveted soloist position and out into her own wonderfully private one-bedroom apartment.

  It wasn’t so much the illegal aspect that she wanted Riaz to steer clear from, it was the mere fact that once he started, it would be next to impossible to get out. Growing up, Rahina, Riaz and her older sister Rubina used to always talk about getting out from underneath their controlling parents’ thumbs. With her parents, there was always pressure; whether it be grades, to career choices, and now the persistent reminder to get married before she was “too old.”

  Riaz was an idiot for staying in that house a minute longer than he needed to. The only reason why she was there was to see about covertly swapping out the Volvo her dad gave her with one of his flashier cars. She was tired of driving a sedan! Rahina wanted something with a bit more statement, and more importantly, she didn’t want to pay for it. Even if she was making more money now as a soloist, she had no desire to squander her earnings on a car payment if she didn’t have to.

  The plan was perfect too; she had waited until she knew her mother was out shopping with her aunt and nobody but her dad should’ve been home. What she did not expect was to be roped into an impromptu servant position by her flustered father to serve tea to his guests. If only her mother could have seen her disheveled post-rehearsal attire as she served who turned out to be two high-level mobsters some of her mother’s two hundred-dollar Darjeeling tea— the woman would have certainly tried to hit her with the nearest item she could lay her hands on.

  And what a sexy mobster he was too, Rahina thought with a grin as she pulled her Volvo to a stop at the tall metal gate. The man’s naturally narrow gray eyes seemed to st
op her heart each time she looked at him while his strong jaw and wide mouth held a promise of severe breathtaking kisses. Large thick shoulders that seemed to span the width of a door, set off his entire broad, muscular figure giving him the appearance of a bouncer rather than a man wearing a six-thousand-dollar custom made suit. She could still feel the muscles of his massive shoulders flexing beneath her hands as he wrapped those tattooed fingers around her waist and lifted her like she was nothing. Rolling down her window, she looked over the rim of her shades to the stone-faced security guard standing next to the metal gate.

  “Do you have an appointment?” The big bruiser of a security guard’s accent was so thick she had to think about what he said before she could respond.

  “Sort of,” she chirped happily. The guard had no outward reaction whatsoever as he waited for an explanation. “Dimitri told me just to give my name at the gate. It’s Rahina Chopra,” she offered.

  Without looking at his clipboard, the guard hit the button on his belt, and the metal gate began to retract.

  “Thank you,” she called out happily as she zipped through the gate.

  The dealership was a large unmarked building that sat on a huge open lot overlooking the river. Parking her car, she walked up to the heavily tinted glass doors. Rahina had to actually tell herself not to let her jaw drop as she stepped through the doors into the chilly showroom. Directly ahead of her were three luxury cars gleaming under carefully placed show lights. Everything about this place screamed at her to just turn and walk back out to her three-year-old Volvo and drive home. She felt too poor to even breathe in the wonderful new leather smell that seemed to be permanently infused into the walls.

  “Can I help you?” A girl about her age made eye contact from across the room and came over towards her with a pleasant smile.

  Looking at the brunette’s sensible black-flats and Navy-blue pencil skirt, Rahina felt sorely underdressed. Today she wore a faded pink pair of denim overalls that sagged over her sneakers while underneath she had on her black leotards from rehearsal.

  “Umm,” without meaning to, Rahina crinkled the white paper bag of food she was holding in her hand as she glanced around the high-end dealership. “I’m here to see…”

  “Rahina you’re here,” a familiar voice from above exclaimed.

  Looking up, Rahina saw Dimitri standing on the interior balcony that wrapped around the top part of the room.

  Relieved to see the familiar face, she took the nearby stairs as he motioned for her to come up. Last night when she got home from her parents’ house, she had been a little surprised but very excited to see the text from the unknown number. He explained he had to steal her phone number from Roman’s phone when he wasn’t looking. Dimitri had texted her the address and suggested that she should “surprise” Roman with lunch. The prospect of seeing the smiling towering man again made her stomach jump with excitement.

  Yesterday their interaction was explosive. The image of that man and his creepy Joker’s smile stayed with her throughout the rest of the day yesterday. Rahina couldn’t be sure if it was because of how he teased her after she made the very dumb decision to hide under her dad’s desk, or how he purposely destroyed her plans on changing cars. Giving her a look of devilish anticipation, Dimitri directed her to go down a short connecting hallway and to turn into the only door. Stopping in front of the door she gave a short knock before pushing through.

  Bright diffused light filtered through the tinted windows behind his desk, silhouetting the familiar broad shoulders of the man at the desk. Her eyes were adjusting to the light when his striking narrow steel gray eyes cut to hers with the briefest second of startlement before turning to a scowl.

  “What are you doing here?” The combination of his deep voice combined with the flurry of rolling V’s and R’s to his accent had to be the best thing she had ever heard.

  Stepping further into the office, Rahina cast a quick glance around the pristine space before pausing on another man sitting at the couch holding various documents.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” She took a hesitant step backwards towards the door as she looked back and forth between the two men.

  “Yes…” Roman began brusquely.

  “Not at all,” the stranger sat down the documents on the glass coffee table as if happy to dismiss them as he stared at her with growing intrigue. Waving a hand towards Roman, he urged her to continue. “Please go right ahead.”

  Satisfied at the permission granted, she refocused her accusing glare back on Roman, her giant bun at the crown of her head bobbing as she moved. “What do you mean why am I here? For payback of course—and lunch,” she smiled largely as she held up the white paper bag.

  Sitting back in his chair, Roman flicked his eyes from both her and the man to her right, he didn’t look happy with either one of them. The man on the couch seemed to be all too pleased with the exchange and didn’t seem to mind in the least that she was intruding on the meeting.

  Seeing no obstacles in delivering her planned rant, she charged ahead. “You have some nerve pulling that underhanded trick on me with the car keys when I just walked through a showroom with over a million dollars’ worth of cars just collecting dust.”

  “Twenty-million,” the man on the couch interjected.

  Turning back around towards him, she gave him a confused look. “I’m sorry?”

  “Twenty-million, the showroom currently has over twenty million worth of product collecting dust,” he clarified with a slight teasing smirk. Standing up, he extended his hand towards her. “Alexei Petrov, I’m Roman’s accountant.”

  Taking his hand, Rahina felt like she was just now actually looking at the man. He was beautiful, too beautiful actually. She could tell by the strength in his fingers that held hers and a cursory glance at his lean figure, the man was just as in shape as she suspected Roman was. His face, however, was too beautiful, all perfect lines and angles nothing like the masculine hard edge of Roman’s face and certainly not the promise of exhilarating danger that Roman’s smile offered.

  “Rahina Chopra,” she replied. Tilting her head in thought she asked, “is everyone here Russian?” Thinking of the guard at the gate and what her brother said yesterday.

  Alexei just gave her a ghost of a smile.

  “How did you get in here?” Roman demanded, pulling her attention away from Alexei.

  Stepping boldly forward, she crossed the sitting area of the room and headed towards his desk. Two dark gray couches sat facing each other on either wall with a large glass coffee table in the middle. Directly ahead of the sitting area, were two modern leather and steel chairs. The silver steel gleamed as her eyes fell on the large Onyx desk. Stopping near the side of the desk, she dramatically lowered the paper bag onto a clear spot on his desk and gave him a big grin.

  “Dimitri let me in.”

  Alexei said something in Russian as he smirked and neatly stacked his papers into his thin briefcase. Gruffly, Roman replied back with an even faster string of unrecognizable words as Alexei silently left. Alone now, Roman began to smile. Rahina could easily see the evil gears working behind his fog gray eyes.

  Not giving him a chance to say anything she started talking while brazenly halfway sitting on the edge of his desk. “You know, I had to dance with this popular Russian dancer, Yuri Gosev, and he would occasionally speak Russian,” seeing that he wasn’t opening his lunch, she carefully reached over and unpacked the sandwich and chips as she spoke. “And before I always thought Russian kind of sounded terrible to be honest, but I have to say,” she paused, midsentence as she flattened the paper bag neatly and used it as a makeshift plate for his still wrapped sandwich and chips. Scooting the now presented lunch closer to him, she gave him a beguiling smile and continued. “You make the language sound damn good.”

  The menacing smile he was preparing to give her froze as he blinked a few times in recognition. “Is this your attempt at flirting with me?”

  Lifting one e
yebrow suggestively, she didn’t back down from his stare and bit back a laugh. “What says seduction more than a deli combo and a sultry smile?”

  Laughter sparkled in her eyes as she spotted the hint of surprised amusement in his eyes before it was immediately crushed behind an iron wall of self-control and a deadpan stare.

  “Get out,” he pointed to the door.

  “Aw, come on,” she pouted. “I never got to introduce myself properly to you and thank you for getting me out of my dad’s office undetected.”

  Leaning back in his seat, her eyes couldn’t help but follow the movement. Noticing the way his ivory button-down shirt stayed close to the flat planes of his abs, and bulged around his swollen biceps. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone and completely free of a tie, giving her the barest hint of a tattoo peeking out from underneath. Instead of a tie, he wore a brown leather chest holster for his gun with the straps going over each arm and the powerful piece of gun-power dangling under his left arm.

  “You have no idea who or what I am, Rahina Chopra, third soloist of the Boston Ballet Company,” she knew he only added that in means to scare her or at the very least warn her, but all it sufficiently did was make her feel a little special knowing that he researched her. Roman continued, giving her a silent, menacing stare. “But I can assure you that you are in over your head.”

  The warning was plain and simple, and if she was smart, she would take it. This wasn’t like her, Rahina didn’t pester guys to pay attention to her. Sure, she was goofy and terribly flirty with guys, but never this, she never went after a guy like she was doing now. The problem was, he made her whole world turn around on first sight. Roman Mashir was everything she wanted from the moment they met. Somehow, he was taller than her, insanely good-looking, and had a killer smile. He was the ultimate bad boy package that thankfully came in a deluxe size just for her. So no, she was not going to heed his warning, she at least wanted to see where this could go first.