Chapter 1 Kill Or Kiss

Several generations ago, the Mezzanotte clan struck a deal with the Bratva.

The Russians would promise their neutrality to the constant conflict in Italy and in turn, Russian blood wouldn't be spilled on Italian soil. That was the deal-a deal that the head of the Mezzanotte family Santino Adriano had intended to uphold.

Yet, that deal had fallen through mere years after Maxim Morozov's inauguration into the Bratva, overtaking his grandfather's position all in the name of keeping the business in the family.

The Bratva wanted to broaden their horizon, strengthen their bonds and forge bonds all in the name of power.

Blood oaths be damned. Santino Adriano was going to teach Maxim Morozov a fucking lesson about when blood oaths are broken in the name of greed, power and control. "We can't find her."

"Look again."

The man's hesitation brewed Santino's anger enough for his hand to hover over one of his guns as he glared at him.

They had three jobs: locate her, find her and capture her.

Yet, finding an olive-skinned girl in a sea of paper white people was apparently fucking difficult.

Bratva girls turned their heads and stared at the foreign-looking Santino, yet one glare was enough for them to look away again.

He didn't look very welcoming despite how handsome he looked in that black suit and matching dress shirt.

It wasn't a wonder why he gazed at all of them like they were gum stuck beneath his expensive red bottom dress shoes. He hated the Russians.

Once more, the translator returned, looking panicked as he fidgeted beneath Santino's gaze. "We really can't find her."

"Look"-Santino drew out a gun threateningly, glaring coldly at the scrawny man-"again." The translator scrambled away once more in fear.

After all, if they didn't find her, he'd kill them for wasting his time and leading him astray.

Again. He wasn't leaving without the Bratva princess this time.

It was her life or theirs.

They couldn't say he hadn't given them time, that he hadn't been patient.

This was the third time they'd made a promise that they had found her and once again failed to deliver on that very promise.

Only this time, he had gone there personally and stepped foot on Russian soil despite hating everything about the cold land.

The translator suddenly scrambled forward, relief shining in his eyes, causing a smile to tug at his lips.

"We have found her." Humming, Santino stood up, tucking his gun away as he followed the man.

"She's right in here-" The translator stilled, his smile dropping as he grew pale.

Santino didn't understand why until a gun suddenly pressed against the man's head.

Santino's gaze hardened as a swarm of twelve guards suddenly all pointed their guns at the two, Santino's men nowhere close to the private nook where the brat resided. A dirty blonde guard suddenly stepped in front of Santino, taking in his appearance and frowning.

"Kakogo cherta etot inostrannyy ublyudok shpioniit za printsessoy?" Raising an eyebrow at his translator, he quickly scrambled forward, fearing Santino far more than any of the men around him.

"U-um, he asks why a foreign man such as yourself is in Russia of all places-!" His words were cut short as a fist connected to his face, causing him to stumble back in pain. "Ne beyte menya, pozhaluysta.

Ya vsego lish' perevodchik. Pozhaluysta."

The men only scoffed at his words and punched him once more.

"Posmotrite na printsessu."

"Translate."

Santino glared at his translator who almost cried.

"H-he asked them to check on her."

Before Santino could be punched, he grabbed the wrist of the flying fist, dislocating the man's shoulder and shoving him aside so he could intimidate the translator.

"He said printsessu. What does that mean?" "The princess." Santino glared at him as he let them take his wrists and pin them behind his back, a gun pressed against his head.

"Translate directly.

Got it?" Before the translator could nod, a voice that was far too feminine to belong to a man suddenly spoke up despite the loud music of the club.

"Chto proiskhodit?" "What's going on?" The translator did his job, causing him to get another jab to the face, a loud cry leaving his lips at the action.

"Tebe ne o chem bespokoit'sya, printsessa. Prosto prodolzhay prazdnovat' svoy den' rozhdeniya." "You have nothing to worry about, princess.

Just continue celebrating your birthday-!" Another punch landed in his face, almost knocking out his teeth.

Santino dismissed their violence against the translator.

He'd been wanting to do that since the translator first opened his mouth.

He hadn't even bothered to learn his name.

Yet, something in his translation caught his attention.

Was it her birthday? Before Santino could tell his translator to translate a few words of his own, heels echoed against the floor and shortly after the door was pulled open and the drunken teenager in question grinned at the dirty blonde-haired guard.

"Ty slishkom ser'yezno otnosish'sya k svoyey rabote, Lazar."

"Y-you-!" The translator was punched repeatedly but that did not deter him despite his crooked nose.

"You take your job too seriously, Lazar!" Groaning, Lazar snapped his fingers and the half-passed-out translator was held upright by top guards as he moaned out in pain.

Lazar was too distracted with the translator to notice how Santino's gaze hardened just as his slacks did as he took in the girl's appearance and how her breath hitched when she took in the sight of the foreign man in that black suit.

Santino's gaze moved up her red bottom heels, the patterned black tights that hugged her legs that went on for miles before her black mini skirt finally came to view, hugging what little part of her she wanted to cover.

His dark eyes slipped up her olive-toned belly to the bit he saw of her black lacy bra that was barely covered by the black oversized dress shirt which she'd only fastened by one singular button, her neck thin and devoid of hickeys.

But her body wasn't her best asset despite how gorgeous it was. No, it was her face card. Her hair was as dark as tar framing her little face. Her features were cute, yet her bone structure was lethal, just as those curious hazel-green eyes that stared back at him were. Her smudged glossy naturally pouty lip told him everything he needed to know to figure out just what she'd been doing in there, confirming to him the rumours there swarmed about her. Just as Santino stared at the so-called princess, she stared at him, unable to help herself. His eyes were a pretty shade of chestnut brown, his cheekbones high and his lips plump. He was tall, clad in a black Armani suit that stretched over his broad shoulders. Suddenly, she felt parched. She didn't know shoulders could be so broad. Yet it wasn't his shoulders that interested her but his huge hands and the red bottom dress shoes that matched her own. He had good taste, she had to admit. "Kto on?" "Who is he?" The translator barely managed to draw out, and this time Lazar only rolled his eyes, not bothering to punch him once more. Before Lazar could answer her question, surprise filled her eyes, a beam drawing across her lips. "You speak English then," she beamed, opening the door for him. "Nico sent you, didn't he?" The princess could barely maintain her happiness. Nico? Before Santino could get closer to her, the dirty blonde man let out a groan of disapproval. "Nyet, printsessa. My ne znayem, kto on." "No, princess," the translator rasped dramatically, causing the girl in question to turn her head to him and furrow her eyebrows. "We don't know who he is." Rolling her eyes, she dismissed Lazar, causing him to groan in disapproval once more before stepping aside. His distrust of Santino did not diminish and understandably so. Santino was going to kill her. That was the plan, after all. The princess beamed at Santino, opening the door for him. "Ignore Lazar. He's always like that. He means well." One gesture by the girl and Santino's wrists were suddenly caught behind his back by a pair of flimsy fluffy pink cuffs much to his annoyance. "Get in." She stepped inside herself, not getting very far before she was dragged into a pair of arms, her lips stolen by who he only could assume was either a soldier of the Bratva or the son of a prominent member. Just as she stopped kissing one guy, she was dragged into the lap of another, his hands all over her body as she kissed him, a giggle leaving her lips. Suddenly Santino realised as he looked around that every single one of the eleven boys in the room had that purple-like lipgloss smudged all over their mouths. She was passing herself around like public property. The rumours about Olivia Morozov were true then. She was a party animal with no sense of self-respect. Giggling aloud, she finally stood up, abandoning the boy who only brought one of the huge bottles of vodka on the table to his lips before shoving a hand down his pants. He touched himself as she pulled out a comical-looking hat with a beam on her lips, her curious hazel eyes locked with Santino's chestnut-coloured eyes. "Your name?" Santino ignored her, his gaze hardening as he looked around the room of horny boys who all stared at her expectantly with dreamy hopeful eyes, a pink birthday cake spelling her name as well as the age nineteen on it. What the fuck had Santino stepped into? Her beam dropped and before she even could make a gesture, a gun was pressed to his head and he was forced to take a seat. "Your name." Santino didn't answer, causing her lips to pout at his stoicism. He didn't waste his breath on whores. Huffing, she dramatically started scribbling. "Fine. I'll just write Nico then." Who the fuck was Nico? "He said he'd sent a gift. But I didn't think he'd sent a guy." She couldn't help but stare at him in curiosity. He looked so brooding, almost as if he didn't want to be there but that wouldn't make sense. Why else would he be at the club snooping around her? "I've never been with an older guy," she admitted, giving the hat one more shake, causing the boys around her to start making their prayers and Santino to scowl. His confusion was answered when she stuck her hand in and pulled out a paper. It was then that he understood that they were drawing lots about something. "Chelovekom, kotorogo ya vyberu, budet... Barabannaya drob', pozhaluysta." The person I choose will be... Drumroll, please. What the actual fuck was going on? "Nico!" Santino stilled, his wide eyes locking with her smug ones, despondent groans filling the room as they all glared at him in jealousy. Before he could walk out, all eleven boys forced him to take a seat on the chair in the middle of the room. "You know," Olivia stood up, tearing a flavoured condom with her teeth. "I've always wanted to suck Nico's dick, you know." She couldn't help but pout. "You'll do." Before Santino could snap her fucking head off for those few words, a total of eleven guns pointed Santino's way, causing Olivia's eyebrows to furrow. "Rasslab'sya. On moy podarok." Olivia scoffed, pushing away their guns before dropping down on her knees and touching Santino's belt as the guns pressed closer to him and away from the girl. "Any friend of Nico's is a friend of mine." Relax. He's my gift. Just as his hand slipped to his gun against his back, her hazel eyes locked with his as she beamed. Suddenly, he felt breathless as she stared at him. The Bratva princess was prettier than the rumours said. Much much much prettier than the rumours. She was fucking stunning. For some reason, Santino remained seated on the chair as she unbuckled his belt despite every opportunity he had to pull away, shoot them all and finish his job. He had every opportunity to say no but for some fucked up reason he let the girl who was nearly twenty years his junior unzip his slacks and draw out his huge penis. The mere sight of its girth and length caused her eyes to widen and a groan slipped from his lips as her hand moved along its inches. "Wow," Olivia almost hypnotically drew her hand up his length, her eyes widening as it pulsed against her hand.

"I've never blown someone this big."

Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared at the condom in her hand. "U nas yest' boleye krupnyye?" Do we have any larger ones? His confusion was answered when she tossed aside the unused condom and tore open another one.

Before he could even blink, the condom was expertly drawn down his length and her lips started pressing kisses along his shaft, causing his breathing to become laboured.

Russian whispers swarmed around him but he didn't care, his eyes locked with the little Russian princess as she continued her torture, kissing his length all while staring at him with those black-lined seductive hazel eyes.

A smirk tugged on her lips as she watched the tendons in his neck strain and suddenly she'd already chosen that he was so much better than all the boys she'd ever been.

"Priderzhite yego." Her words were met with hands pressing him down against his shoulders and before he understood why, she tucked her hair behind her ears, her pretty lips wrapping themselves around his tip and humming greedily.

Olivia didn't let him get used to her lips around his length as she swallowed more of him until she gagged.

Yet she didn't stop, sucking him greedily, her fingers moving against what she couldn't in screwdriver motions.

As she continued sucking him, her throat warmed up and she swallowed more of him, his mouth dropping and his eyes rolling back as she took all of him.

It had been twenty-four years since Santino lost his virginity, yet in all those years, no one had ever managed to swallow all of his length and deep throat him, and somehow this amateur nineteen-year-old made all of them look like amateurs in comparison.

Humming against him, her dainty fingers cupped his balls as she looked at him through her thick lashes, his eyes already on her.

The alcohol in her veins gave her the courage to carry on, sucking his length harshly.

Her aggression elicited another violent groan from his lungs and before he knew it, he snapped the flimsy fluffy pink fluffy cuffs apart, his fingers lacing through her tar-coloured hair and massaging her scalp in praise as she continued taking all of him like a good girl.

Santino ignored the guns that pressed threateningly against his head, but the girl didn't.

With one simple gesture, the guns were dropped. Olivia took in the sight of the veins that pulsed up his hands and wrists before slipping down the cuffs of his black dress shirt.

She stared at the tendons of his neck as they strained and his face as it contorted in pleasure, heated eyes locked with hers.

She couldn't help but shudder at how intense his eyes were. When was the last time someone had stared at her like that? She didn't know if anyone ever had.

Happiness shooting through her and filling her heart, she sucked him harder until a cry left his lips.

His hips buckled, causing her eyes to widen when he started fucking her mouth, his fingers pressing into her skull, using her mouth all while gently massaging her scalp.

"Cazzo." Fuck.

Olivia shuddered at the sound of the foreign language that glided off his tongue. She only sucked him harshly in response, her eyes widening further when his thrusts grew more aggressive until she almost choked on his length.

Holy fuck, was he trying to kill her? Olivia's wide eyes locked with his heated ones.

Her thighs squeezed as she saw how dark his gaze was, how threateningly they held her gaze with no regard for fear.

No one had ever stared at her with such complete trust in their own control and dominance as the man did right then and there.

Everyone feared Olivia a bit because of her brother.

Even Nico. A singular moan rolling off her tongue and vibrating down his cock was what it took for his hips to still as he spilt into the condom.

A pleasured cry slipped his lips as his fingers massaged patterns into her scalp and his form slackened against the chair.

Santino watched the little princess draw away from him with a satisfied smile on her lips. She drew the condom off him and tied it, pulling him back into his boxers with a grin on her lips.

Before Olivia could ask him how she did, she saw the heavy desire filling his eyes as he stared at her.

Olivia's breath hitched at his intense stare.

She'd never felt as pretty as she did right then and there as he pushed her black locks away from her face all so he could see her.

No one knew how the mixed girl looked, yet here he was enjoying her in ways no living man outside the Bratva lived to tell.

Her grin widened as she grabbed the bottle of vodka by its neck and brought it to her lips.

She swallowed a few gulps before putting it away, the effects of the alcohol slowly catching up to her as her vision turned hazy and the world started swaying.

"Who's next?" Before anyone could answer, his hands slipped away from her hair, sliding behind his back for his guns and shooting all eleven boys before she could even blink.

Guards broke into the room but all dropped dead while Olivia drunkenly giggled as she sat on the floor, Santino expertly shooting them down with the two guns in his hands.

Suddenly she was swooped into Santino's arms and thrown over his shoulder as he trekked over the bodies, looking around in caution before moving forward.

"Lazar," Olivia giggled, unable to lay still, swaying back and forth with each movement. Groaning, Santino spanked her ass.

"Shut it." Olivia was too drunk to register anything other than a joke.

It couldn't possibly be real. "Lazar," she called out once more.

He would explain this as a surprise show they had made for her.

"Where did you go, Lazar?" Despite the four gunshots to his chest, Lazar stood up and dragged his limbs to the girl.

"Don't take the princess," he spoke with a heavy accent, so heavy Santino barely caught his words.

Olivia only giggled.

"Did you plan this interactive shooting, Lazar? I'm so drunk I can't even properly thank you."

"Olivia-" Before he could finish the sentence, a bullet lodged itself in his chest and made his eyes dull as he fell face down against the floor, causing Olivia's giggles to stop and her smile to drop.

Before his death could be properly registered in her mind, she was shoved into a fast-moving vehicle, those chestnut eyes drowning hers until there was only darkness.

"Change of plans." Hatred filled her gaze and flushed out the alcohol in her system with adrenaline.

"You killed Lazar." "Give me a fucking sedative."

Olivia fought against him as he pressed her down against the car seat, a syringe inserting itself in her skin, causing her to let out a pained cry, tears brimming her eyes with grief, regret and fear.

"You killed Lazar-!" Olivia was knocked out before she could ever finish the sentence.

The handsome man wasn't one of Nico's men, after all.