Chapter One
Czar’s POV
I looked out of my office window over the skyline of Manhattan, the city I rule in New York City.
“Pakhan, we have the invitation to the annual mafia ball. What do you like me to do?”
I heavily sighed, taking in a puff of my cigar, with my lieutenant walking in with a few of my own men as well.
“We will attend,” I gruffly say, putting my cigar out, thinking about a young woman who took over my mind a few weeks ago when I almost ran into her during one of my meetings.
She was a little beauty wearing green scrubs, and all I could do was stand there watching her rush off towards the Rosewall Care home downtown, a few blocks from the coffee shop.
I followed her, of course, and found out her name was Loretta Cross, a nineteen-year-old nurse in training attending NYU to earn her full nursing license to work in any hospital ER.
I shook my head and smirked, feeling the same ease of possessiveness that came over me the moment I laid eyes on her.
I knew I needed to find out more about her and how to enter her life without frightening my little angel.
“Anton, make sure security and everyone attending are prepared for anything.” I barked out my orders, watching my lieutenant leave my office.
“Soon, my little angel. I will find you and make you my wife.” My last thought before I left my office and headed to get ready for the evening of a lifetime with other mafia families.
I told my assistant to reschedule all my meetings for the next few weeks, since I plan to find my Loretta and earn her trust before earning her heart.
I left through my private elevator, headed to my waiting car, and got in the back seat, telling my driver to take me to my penthouse so I could get ready for tonight.
I stepped out of the car, fastened my cuff links, and scanned the area where my penthouse was located.
I made my way inside, nodding at the doorman and heading toward my private penthouse elevator.
I stepped inside with my men, listening to everything that was going on in my city, when I spotted Veronica, one of the housemaids I would use to get my sexual tension out of, and now I don’t need her anymore.
“Выведите ее из комнаты и избавьтесь от ее тела (Take her out of the room and dispose of her body).” I walked away, ignoring the loud screeching cries, and I smirked once I heard the sound of a gun going off.
I quickly stripped out of mt clothes and hopped into a hot shower, getting ready for the night to come, praying to see my angel once again.
I shut off the shower after finishing washing, drying off, and wrapping the towel around my waist.
I picked out one of my dark suits, a dress shirt, and slacks, along with my dress shoes, which had hidden blades in the tips and heels.
I adorned my rings on my hands, letting a few buttons open to show off my broad, tattooed chest, and slicked back my hair, allowing a few strands to fall into my eyes.
I carefully attached my twin pistols underneath my suit jacket, grabbed my phone and wallet, placed them in my pocket and left the room.
“Антон, Александр, со мной (Anton, Aleksander, with me).” I nodded to both of my men as we all got into the waiting car, taking us towards the central high-end Hilton hotel where the Mafia ball was being held.
“Pakhan, we have arrived.”
I grunted, stepping out with both Aleks and Anton with me. I entered the room, taking a glass of vodka from one of the waiters, when I spotted my angel standing with Harold’s family.
“Anton, did you get the information on Loretta?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
“Da (yes), I did. I have placed it in your home office before we left.” I nodded, watching my sweet Etta silently follow behind Jessa, the Harold’s golden child.
“Aleks, when you see an opening, bring me Loretta to me,” I silently ordered, taking my seat at our assigned table.
I sat in my chair with my legs spread wide, one left hand on the table, with my right hand holding my glass of vodka with ice at the bottom.
I took a sip, waiting patiently for my angel to come to me, and when I spotted Aleks coming back empty-handed with only the blonde airhead Jessa following, I knew something was wrong.
“What is the meaning of this?” I softly say, keeping my cold eyes on the blonde seething in rage that my angel did not come to me.
“Loretta is not allowed to be around everyone here,” Jessa says, giving me a fake seductive look.
I silently raised an eyebrow, wondering what in the hell this whore was on about when it comes to my angel.
“Александр, что случилось (Alexander, what happened)?” I spoke in my native tongue, not wanting this twat to know what is going on.
“Босс, я пошёл к леди Лоретте и сказал ей, что вы её пригласили, и что она пойдёт со мной. Но Аарон Гарольд её остановил, и Джесса пошла со мной (Boss, I went to Lady Loretta and told her you invited her and she nodded she would come with me. But Aaron Harold stopped her, and Jessa went with me instead).”
I hummed, twirling my glass and looking around to find my angel, when I spotted her with Aaron, tightly gripping her arm and shaking her aggressively.
I narrowed my eyes and stood up after slamming my glass down, leaving to save my angel from this moron who dared to place his hands upon my woman.
“Is there a problem here?” I deeply growled behind my angel and placed my hand on her lower back.
I felt my angel stiffen and peek up at me, and when our eyes met, I saw recognition and hope in hers.
“Pahkan Romanov, this is a family matter.” Aaron Harold’s voice grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. His grip on my Loretta’s arm tightens, and I see her wince.
“Remove your hand from her arm before I remove it from your body,” I say, my voice deadly calm. The temperature around us seems to drop several degrees.
Harold’s face pales, but his arrogance remains. “With all due respect, Pakhan, Loretta is my daughter and—”
“And yet you treat her like she’s nothing.” I step closer, towering over him. “I don’t see you manhandling your other daughter in such a way.”
My hand remains firmly on Loretta’s lower back, a silent claim that everyone in the room can see. I feel her trembling beneath my touch, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she seems to lean into it ever so slightly.
“Loretta, come with me,” I command softly, my eyes never leaving Harold’s reddening face.
“She can’t—” Harold starts, but I cut him off with a raised finger.
“I wasn’t asking permission.” My voice drops to a whisper that carries more threat than any shout could. “I’m telling you what’s going to happen.”
I turn my gaze to Loretta, softening it just enough for her to see I mean her no harm. “Позвольте мне позаботиться о вас, ангел (Let me take care of you, angel).”
She doesn’t understand my words, but something in my tone must reach her because she gives me the slightest nod. It’s enough.
I guide her away from Harold, whose face is now the colour of a ripe tomato. Jessa stands nearby, her mouth hanging open in shock. I smirk at her as we pass.
“Anton,” I call out, and my lieutenant materializes at my side instantly. “Make sure Mr. Harold understands the consequences of putting his hands on what’s mine.”
Loretta looks up at me with wide eyes, but I continue walking her toward a quiet corner of the ballroom. I can feel every eye in the place on us, the feared Pakhan of the Russian Bratva and the small, dark-haired beauty in the simple black dress that doesn’t quite fit her right.
“Are you hurt?” I ask once we’re somewhat private.
She shakes her head, but doesn’t speak. Those green eyes study me intensely, as if trying to solve a puzzle.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me, маленький ангел (little angel).” I reach up slowly, telegraphing my movements, and brush a strand of hair from her face. “I would never harm you.”
She swallows hard, and I watch the delicate movement of her throat with fascination. Then, to my surprise, she speaks. Her voice is soft, barely audible over the music and chatter of the ball.
“Why me?” she asks.
I consider my answer carefully. I could lie and give her a charming response about her beauty or grace. But something tells me this woman would see through such falsehoods.
“Because when I saw you for the first time, something in me recognized something in you,” I tell her honestly. “I don’t believe in fate, Loretta, but I do believe in seizing opportunities when they present themselves.”
Her eyes widen slightly at the use of her name, and I smile.
“Yes, I know who you are. I’ve known since that day at the coffee shop.” I take her hand gently in mine, marvelling at how small and delicate it is compared to my own. “And now I want you to know who I am. Not just what you’ve heard, but who I really am.”
Across the room, I see Anton cornering Harold, who looks like he might be sick. Good. Let him worry. Let him wonder what I plan to do with his so-called daughter.
Because after tonight, Loretta Cross will never return to that house. She doesn’t know it yet.
I guide her to the chair beside mine, ensuring she’s comfortable before taking my own seat. She sits perched on the edge like a bird ready to take flight at the first sign of danger. Her eyes dart around the room, always returning to me with that same mixture of fear and fascination.
“You’re safe now,” I tell her, signalling a waiter. “What would you like to drink?”
She hesitates, as if unsure she’s allowed to answer.
“Cola, please,” she finally whispers, her voice so soft I have to lean closer to hear it.
“A cola for the lady,” I instruct the waiter, “and bring her something to eat. The seafood pasta.” I glance at Loretta. “Is that acceptable?”
She nods, those green eyes still wide with uncertainty.
“And another vodka for me,” I add before dismissing the waiter with a flick of my hand.
Across the ballroom, I can see the Harold family in disarray. Aaron is gesturing wildly while speaking to Anton, whose stone-faced expression reveals nothing. Jessa stands nearby, her face a mask of fury as she watches us. Let them stew in their anger. They are nothing to me.
“They won’t hurt you anymore,” I say, turning my attention back to Loretta. “I won’t allow it.”
She studies me, her delicate fingers fidgeting with the hem of her simple dress. It’s black and plain—clearly chosen to make her fade into the background rather than stand out. Yet on her, even this drab garment cannot hide her natural beauty.
“Why would you help me?” she asks, her voice gaining a touch more strength. “You don’t know me.”
I lean back in my chair, considering my answer carefully. “I know enough. I know they treat you poorly. I know you work hard at the care home, showing kindness to strangers while receiving none at home.” I pause, watching her reaction. “And I know that when our eyes met that day at the coffee shop, you felt something too.”
A blush colours her cheeks, confirming my suspicion. The waiter returns with our drinks, and I watch as she takes a small sip of her cola, her lips pressing against the glass delicately.
“They’ll be angry,” she murmurs, glancing toward the Harolds.
“Let them be,” I reply dismissively. “You are under my protection now. Do you understand what that means in our world, Loretta?”
She shakes her head slightly, a strand of dark hair falling across her face. I resist the urge to brush it away.
“It means no one—not the Harolds, not anyone—can touch you without answering to me.” I take a sip of my vodka, enjoying the burn. “And no one wants to answer to me.”
The pasta arrives, and I gesture for her to eat. She picks up her fork hesitantly.
“You’re not what I expected,” she admits, twirling pasta onto her fork.
“And what did you expect, маленький ангел (little angel?” I ask, curious about her perception of me.
She takes a small bite, chewing thoughtfully before answering. “Someone... colder. More frightening.” A pause. “You are frightening, but not to me. Not right now.”
I smile, pleased by her honesty. “Good. I have no desire to frighten you, Loretta. Others, yes. You, never.”
Music fills the ballroom as the orchestra begins a new piece. I watch her eat, noticing how she savours each bite as if good food is a rarity. My jaw tightens at the thought of how the Harolds must have treated her.
“Would you like to dance?” I ask when she’s finished eating.
Surprise flashes across her face. “I don’t know how,” she confesses, looking down at her hands.
“Then I will teach you.” I stand and offer my hand. “It’s simple. You follow my lead.”
She hesitates only briefly before placing her small hand in mine. Her skin is soft despite the callouses I can feel—evidence of hard work. I lead her to the dance floor, aware of the stares following us.
“Everyone is watching,” she whispers nervously.
“Let them,” I reply, placing my hand on her waist and drawing her closer. “They’re watching because they’ve never seen me dance before.” I guide her through the first steps. “And because they’ve never seen me look at anyone the way I look at you.”
She stumbles slightly but catches herself, her hand tightening on my shoulder. “And how is that?” she asks, her voice barely audible over the music.
I lean down, my lips close to her ear. “Like you’re mine.”
I feel her shiver against me, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she relaxes into my hold, allowing me to guide her across the floor in slow, measured steps.
“What happens after tonight?” she asks as we turn.
“That depends on you,” I tell her honestly. “I want you to come with me, away from them. But I won’t force you.”
Her eyes search mine, looking for deception. She won’t find any—not about this.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” she admits.
“You do now.” I pull her slightly closer. “Say the word, and you’ll never have to see the Harolds again.”
The music begins to wind down, and I slow our movement. Her decision hangs between us, heavy with possibility.
“Yes,” she finally whispers, and in that single word, I hear both fear and determination.
I smile, satisfaction coursing through me. “Then it’s done.”
The music stops, but I don’t release her immediately. Instead, I bend down and place a gentle kiss on her forehead—a promise and a claim all at once.
“Czar!” Aaron Harold’s voice cuts through the moment. He approaches, his face mottled with rage despite Anton following closely behind him. “You can’t just take my daughter!”
I turn to face him, keeping Loretta partially behind me. “She’s not your daughter. She’s your prisoner. And now, she’s free.”
