Sinful Hearts: A Dark Mafia Enemies To Lovers Romance
Sinful Hearts: Chapter 26

Holy. Fuck.

I spot Elsa the second I walk into the ballroom of the Plaza. She looks amazing. So amazing that I don’t realize I’ve just stepped on Vanya’s foot in her open-toed shoes until she winces and grabs my arm.

“Ouch!”

“Sorry,” I mutter, still not looking away from Elsa.

She’s talking to some older dude in a tux, along with a younger woman who’d damn well better be his wife, seeing as how Elsa is cracking up at whatever dumb joke he’s just made.

“I’m going to go make the rounds.” Vanya pats my arm before disentangling herself. “If you’re going to the bar, could you get me a red wine? Something expensive and old.”

I chuckle. “Such a trust fund brat.”

“Yup,” she grins before disappearing into the crowd.

I make my way to the bar, ignoring the suits who try and stop me for a chat. I order a whiskey and a glass of something red without getting specific. Please, it’s the Crown and Black gala at the Plaza. All the wine is old and expensive.

A dark figure leans against the bar next to me. I turn, and suddenly find myself eye-to-eye with Gavan Tsarenko.

“Of all the gin joints, hmm?” he muses, a tight smile on his chiseled face.

“Funny, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Casablanca fan.”

“I think it’s fairly safe to assume we don’t know a thing about one another, Hades.”

I give him a flat smile in return. “Well, maybe that’s for the best. If you’ll excuse me—”

“Interesting move, by the way.”

I shouldn’t be talking to this motherfucker, for about a million reasons. The Albanian Acquisition. The bullshit he pulled with buying Jayden Robinson’s warehouse. The fact that Donnie Petrakis’ and Jason Eliades’ sons were both jumped recently, and that Theo Petrakis had Russian vodka fucking poured on him before he was lit on goddamn fire.

Clearly , the appropriate, diplomatic response to Gavan right now is to walk the fuck away before we get into a full-blown shoot-out in the middle of the fucking Plaza.

Unfortunately, diplomacy has always been just about my very weakest suit.

Smiling thinly, I turn back to him. “And what move is that?”

“Bringing Vanya Mirzoyan as your date tonight.”

“I think the really interesting move, Gavan,” I growl, “is lighting kids on fucking fire.”

His brow darkens. “Theo Petrakis. Yes. I heard about that.”

“Oh, I’m sure you fucking did.”

His jaw tightens. “You don’t honestly believe I’m capable of that, do you?”

“Honestly?” I shrug. “I do, actually.”

He snorts, shaking his head as he sips the Belvedere on the rocks the bartender’s just poured him.

“I’m insulted.”

“Well, maybe you could go strong arm another old-timer into selling you a warehouse you don’t need to make yourself feel better.”

His lips curl at the corners. “Who says I have no need for Mr. Robinson’s warehouse?”

“You’re playing games with the wrong family,” I mutter.

“I wasn’t aware any of this was a game at all, Hades. But if you’re just having fun,” he snarls, “perhaps you could stop sniffing around Serj Mirzoyan and save us both a lot of headaches.”

“Gavan, I wouldn’t dodge a speeding train if it would save you a headache.”

He smiles. “Perhaps you were right, before.”

“About?”

“Excusing yourself before we even started this conversation. I’m not sure we have anything to talk about if this is how we’re going to behave.”

“Aww, I’m all broken up.”

He shakes his head, lifting his glass in a toast.

“Enjoy your evening, Hades.”

“Eat a bag of dicks, Gavan.”

I glare at his back as he disappears into the crowd. I’m about to slam back my whiskey and order five more when Vanya shoves herself against the bar next to me.

“What’s the holdup on that wine?”

“Russian embargo.”

She arches a brow. “Huh. I did see Leo Stavrin prowling about. I figured the one holding his leash was probably around here as well.”

“Your father is talking to them, too, isn’t he?” I lock eyes with her. “The Reznikov Bratva, I mean.”

She nods. “He is.”

I turn, stabbing my gaze through the crowd, looking for Gavan.

When I find him, my jaw clenches tight.

What the fuck.

Standing right next to the Russian prick is a familiar dash of white-blonde in a stunning red dress.

Elsa.

I want to tell myself to leave it alone. Gavan is a client of Taylor Crown’s, and it makes perfect sense for he and Elsa to be speaking in passing at a Crown and Black function.

Except I fucking hate it. I hate how close he’s standing to her. And I see fucking red, as red as her gown, when he leans down and murmurs something into her fucking ear.

“Hades?”

My face is dark as I glance back at Vanya.

“Sorry. What would I have to do to throw a stick into the spokes of that situation?”

She smirks. “Of my father talking with Gavan Tsarenko?”

“Yes. And by stick, I mean lit fucking dynamite.”

She nods slowly. “There is something, actually.”

“I’m all ears.”

“The whole thing is coming from Melik. He’s been hanging around with some of the guys in Leo Stavrin’s crew for years, trying to look tough.”

I frown. “He can’t hang around your own family’s crews to look tough?”

“Not when they all hate him and think he’s a joke.”

I snicker.

“Melik’s the one that brought Leo to my father, and then Leo brought in Gavan. My dad’s willing to hear the Russians out, and I’ll be honest, I’m sure he’d be perfectly fine with this thing turning into a bidding war between your family and Gavan. But the thing is, he hates the Russians.”

“Because of the turf war between your family and them about a year ago?”

She nods.

“From what I hear, Gavan’s still got an ax to grind about that,” I continue. “Your father’s men killed his top captain.”

“Yeah,” she mutters. “That was after the Reznikovs shot up a car they thought my father was in. He wasn’t, as it turned out, but the woman he’d been dating for almost six years, after our mom died, was. He was planning on marrying her.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

She nods. “Thanks. Samantha. I really liked her, actually.”

“And yet your dad is still entertaining Gavan’s proposals on this deal?”

Her mouth twists. “Money talks, I guess. But he still fucking hates the Russians.”

“So how’s he feel about Melik hanging out with them?”

“He’s forbidden it, literally threatening to write Melik out of his will if he keeps doing it.”

My brow arches.

Interesting.

“So, if you can prove to my father that Melik is still chummy with Leo’s crew, Dad’ll lose his shit. I don’t know if it’ll torpedo the talks with Gavan. But it might.”

I nod, grinning. “Thank you.”

“You’re most welcome.”

I grin as I clink my glass to hers. “You know what, Vanya? We should have cleared this up between us years ago.”

She laughs.

“Cleared what up?”

I blink, whirling to see Elsa glaring absolute death at Vanya, her hip cocked aggressively and her face very, very flushed. Judging from the lopsided way she’s holding the almost-empty champagne flute in her hand, I’m guessing she’s drunk.

And looking stabby as fuck right now.

Vanya smiles cordially, unfazed.

“Oh, a misunderstanding between from years ago. Hi, I’m—”

“Trying to suck his dick?”

Yikes.

Vanya looks more shocked than offended. But suddenly, I realize I was way off when I thought Elsa was just “drunk.”

She’s shit-faced.

“Um, okay…” Vanya glances at me sideways before smiling at Elsa. “I’m sorry, you might be confusing me with someone else. Hades and I are old friends—”

“No, you’re absolutely right.”

Except it comes out more like “ur absholuely righ” with the way Elsa is slurring.

I clear my throat. “Elsa…”

“Yes, I must be confusing you with the thousands of women orbiting him trying to get a little piece of him.”

“Believe me.” Vanya’s smile is getting less polite. “That is not the case here.”

“No? You’re pawing all over him with your tits half out just because?”

Elsa jolts as I grab her upper arm and drop my mouth to her ear.

“Stop it,” I growl. “You’re way out of line and I don’t think you realize it.”

She shakes my hand off. “What? I’m fine.”

“You’re not—”

“Well…” Elsa drawls at Vanya. “At least I can tell by the way you’re walking that he hasn’t fucked you yet tonight, so there’s that…”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Vanya’s brow knits. “Oh my God, wait, are you two—”

“It’s just screwing,” Elsa says venomously. “That’s it. Nothing more. No big fucking deal.”

Vanya smiles not-at-all-cordially-by-now at Elsa as her eyes dart to mine.

“I’m sorry, I think I’m getting dragged into the middle of something—”

“You know what, I’d say maybe he hasn’t screwed you yet because you’re so fucking boring,” Elsa slurs. “But, maybe that’s actually his type. So, get on up there, sister. Ride that coc—hey!”

“Excuse us,” I hiss to Vanya, who gives me an arched brow and a nod as I grab Elsa and drag her away and out a side door.

“Get your fucking hands off—”

She gasps as I slam her against the wall of the quiet hallway.

“You are way out of fucking line,” I growl.

“Aww, I’m sowwy,” she coos sarcastically. “Did I offend your piece of ass for the night?”

“No, you insulted the daughter of a somewhat dangerous crime lord, but yeah, no problem.”

She scowls. “It’s fine.”

“You’re wasted.”

“Hades… Why are you wasting your time with me?”

Her voice suddenly goes soft and quiet, with a broken edge to it. Her throat bobs as she drags her big, hazel eyes up to mine, her face falling.

“Why are you even bothering with a mere mortal like me?”

She’s always so full of piss and vinegar, and so full of this all-business confidence, that seeing her so vulnerable like this is almost heartbreaking.

“You could have any woman in this city, Hades.”

“Elsa—”

“So why are you wasting your time with me?”

I shrug my jacket off, draping it around her shoulders.

“Come on. I’m taking you home.”

We’re barely a block from the Plaza when movement in the passenger seat next to me catches my eye. I turn, and my jaw clenches.

Shit.

“Guess I got your attention.”

Elsa’s still beyond drunk. But besides “angry” and “sad”, drunk Elsa is also apparently horny Elsa. Because right now, she’s turned herself sideways in the passenger seat with the slit of her dress open, giving me a really good view of her white lace panties.

“Elsa, you’re drunk.”

“So?”

Her hand slides up her soft, creamy thigh. My eyes return to the road, but then dart right back to her. I watch as her fingers tease over the waistband of her panties, and then suddenly slide right into them.

Fuck.

I’m not going to mess around with a wasted woman, especially when I’m stone cold sober myself. But, I’m only human. And watching Elsa’s face melt, her eyes rolling back as her finger strokes her pussy under her panties has me hard in seconds.

Very, very hard.

“Does this make you want me?”

“You know it does,” I growl. “Elsa, that would make a dead man want you.”

She blushes.

“But you don’t have to do a thing to make me want you.” My eyes lock with hers. “I always fucking want you.”

She shivers, chewing on her lip and then moaning softly as her fingers tease at her pussy.

“Do you want me right now?”

“Yes.”

Of course I do. I always do. Day and night. No matter what the fuck else I have going on or should be thinking about or concentrating on.

I’m watching the road, because traffic is getting dicey, when I suddenly feel a hand sliding over my thigh.

“Elsa—”

I groan as her soft fingers wrap around my bulging cock under my tux pants.

“You’re so hard…”

“Elsa, stop it.”

“Whyyy?”

“Because you’re drunk.”

She giggles. “I know.”

I hear the click of her seatbelt undoing. Frowning, I glance at her.

“What the hell are you—”

She spins, on her knees in the passenger seat now as she leans over and starts trying to open my pants.

“Elsa, stop,” I growl, braking sharply and switching lanes.

“You just watch the road,” she purrs.

My jaw clenches as she somehow manages to get my zipper down, snaking her small hand inside to wrap around my hard, throbbing dick.

“And just let me—”

“Elsa, that’s enough.”

She stops. Her hand suddenly slips back out of my pants, her eyes, big and wounded, looking up at me as I glance sidelong at her.

“Am I not as hot as your other girls?”

Fucking hell.

“Elsa—”

“Or is it the virgin thing? Am I not doing it right? Because I can do it however you—”

“Maybe it’s because, despite your best fucking efforts, I kind of like you! A lot!,” I snap. “And I don’t want to fuck around with you when I’m sober and you’re supremely wasted!”

The car goes silent, me staring at the road with a white-knuckle grip on the wheel, Elsa still on her knees leaning over the middle console.

“You…” she flashes me a sloppy, drunken smile. “You like me?”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your—”

She pukes.

Directly onto my crotch.

“…Head.”