Claiming Nina

By Leslie Johnson

I did it. I left my own engagement party.

I'm free at last, miles from Chicago. I know my father will hunt me down, but for now I'm free.

Free. 

Free of the arranged marriage to amend the age old feud between my father and his biggest rival in the Russian Mafia.

Free of living under protection of bodyguards and ridiculous standards.

But I didn't understand how I cherished my freedom, my new life, until I crossed paths with Adam. Successful single father, he has all the charm I've ever longed for. 

But I've concealed my identity, and I'm too scared to admit the truth now.

If my father finds me, it's over... for both of us. Can I risk never finding true happiness?

This is a FULL LENGTH standalone novel with a HEA.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atrevida Publishing
• Release date: Mar 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386410287

Book preview

One

Nina

Here goes nothing.

My heart pounds as I push my way through the heavy steel door and stumble into the side alley that neighbors the parking lot. With one last glance back over my shoulder, I sprint past a row of dimly lit cars to the dark blue BMW that is idling by the back fence. I open the back door and slide in, a rush of relief washing over me.

Holy shit, I did it. I left my own engagement party. I laugh hysterically, my heart racing as adrenaline pumps through my veins. Who would’ve thought that disobeying my parents could give me such a rush?

Don’t get too excited, we’re not done yet, Michael mutters. He spins the wheel and puts the car in reverse, guiding the car out of the parking lot while I glower at him and his know-it-all smirk.

"Thanks for pointing that out, Michael."

I don’t need him to tell me that we haven’t even got to the hard bit yet. Leaving the party was one thing, actually disappearing was a whole other story. They drove me to this. If they’d just listened to me, then I wouldn’t have needed to do this. I glance at my phone anxiously. They won’t even realize that I was gone for at least another half hour—if I’m lucky—which buys Michael enough time to drop me at the station and get back here before anyone notices either of us are missing. If all goes to plan, I’ll be on a bus out of Chicago when it hits my father that I’m not there.

I reach behind the back of my Marisa Zenti raw silk gown and lower the zipper, sighing as it falls around my waist. The dress hugged my petite frame like a second skin, but it was at the expense of being able to breathe. I rub my bruised ribs and wince as I kick off my six-inch heels.

That’s better, I mutter as I rub my aching feet. The price we pay to look good.

Slumping against the soft leather interior, I shuffle my way out of the rest of the dress and discard it on the floor. I catch Michael’s eye in the rearview mirror and raise my eyebrows. Flustered, he looks away as I chuckle. It’s like he’s never had a half-naked woman on the backseat of his car before.

Maybe you should keep your eyes on the road, I suggest lightly. This will all be for nothing if you crash me into a tree before we even get to the station. Images of me sprawled out unconscious on Michael’s backseat, dressed only in my white lace bra and matching thong, flash through my mind. I can just imagine having that conversation with my parents.

I reach into the overnight bag I have stashed behind the driver’s seat and rummage through it for my hoodie and sweatpants. I awkwardly put them on, and then gather my long hair up in my hands and tie it back in a loose ponytail. Much better. The idea is to be as inconspicuous as possible so that I don’t stand out, and I don’t think a four thousand dollar dress does that.

I could drive this route with my eyes closed, Michael retorts, scowling at me. And for the record, I wasn’t checking you out. That damn dress has more sparkles on it than a disco ball. It nearly blinded me, that’s all.

Uh-huh, I grin. It didn’t matter anyway. After all he’s doing to help me, I’d give him a lap dance if he asked for one. Anything to get out of the situation I found myself in.

Weeks of planning had gone into this night. My parents had assumed my nerves were due to my engagement, but really, it was all about escaping a life I never wanted, nor asked for.

Spending just a few hours with Viktor tonight was enough to wipe away any guilt I’d been feeling over lying to my parents. There was nothing gentlemanly or charming about that boy, and I was going to do whatever I could to make sure I didn’t end up his wife. If uniting our two families meant that much to my father, then he could marry Viktor, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to.

Are you sure everything is set? I ask nervously.

I can’t shake the feeling that something is going to go wrong. Maybe it’s just the good girl in me, but I’m not used to lying, and I’m terrified I’m going to get caught. I guess it’s something I need to get used to though, because everything I do from here on will be a lie. If I can’t handle lying to myself, how am I going to convince everyone else that I’m Amanda Bell, and not Nina Vitrov, daughter of Russian mob boss, Alexei Vitrov?

Amanda Bell, I mutter. Hello, I’m Amanda Bell.

I ignore Michael’s chuckles as I try to get used to saying my new name. God, it feels so surreal. I can’t believe this is really happening. As much as I didn’t want to marry Viktor, I was going to miss my old life. I was going to miss my family.

Michael pulls into the parking lot at the station with only a few minutes to spare. He hands me my ticket and pushes an envelope into my hands. I shove both in my pocket and then lean through the gap between the seats. Throwing my arms around him, I fight back tears. I’m shaking, I’m so nervous.

Thanks for everything, I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. I owe you more than you’ll ever know.

Just stay safe and keep out of trouble. I’ll see you in a few weeks, okay? He kisses me on the cheek, and a pang of sadness hits me that I’m going to be without my best friend for a few weeks. Remember, no contact at all. I wouldn’t put it past your father to have tapped my phone. And yours. Buy yourself a new cell when you get there and email me the number. You’ll find a new email address for me in the envelope, along with some other documents that might be useful for you.

You’re a regular little mobster, aren’t you? I tease.

He rolls his eyes as his cheeks redden. No, I’ve just been in this world long enough to know that no price is too much if it gets you what you want. Like selling off your daughter to the highest bidder.

Don’t start, I warn him, waving my finger in front of his face. You know it wasn’t like that, Michael. He was just looking out for his family in his own weird way. We’ve had this argument a thousand times before, and nothing would convince me that my father would still force this if he didn’t think it was best for me too.

And we’re going to have to agree to disagree or you’ll miss your bus.

I glance out the window and see that he’s right. Reaching over, I squeeze his hand and give him one last peck on the cheek before climbing out of the car and slamming the door shut.

See you soon, Micky, I say, flashing him a cheeky grin.

Never call me that again, he growls. But his eyes twinkle as he watches me back away from his car. "Love you, Amanda."

From my spot in the back of the bus, I watch anxiously as Michael speeds out of the parking lot. So much hinges on him getting back to the party before my father notices I’m missing. Turning around, I settle into my seat. I’m trying to relax, but it’s hard. My father has a lot of connections and a lot of people who owe him favors. He has eyes everywhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone on this bus had a connection to my father.

I glance around, scoping everybody out. The young guy sitting near the front looks particularly suspicious. The way his eyes keep darting around the bus makes me nervous. He’s either connected to my father, carrying drugs, or planning to hijack the bus. I burrow down a little further in my seat and pull my hood over my head, not sure which of the three is the worst scenario. I know I’m being paranoid, but I can’t help it. My father made me that way.

I feel a pang of guilt for the shit Michael is going to cop. My father will be convinced he knows something, and if he realizes we were both gone at the same time, then his suspicions will be confirmed. I’ve seen my father go to any length to get the information he needs, so I don’t doubt that if he suspects Michael holding back on him, he’ll do whatever is necessary to make him talk. Finding me will be his priority, not only to ensure the marriage goes ahead, but also because nobody disobeys my father. Not even me.

Please get back in time.

I squirm in my seat, the doubts beginning to creep in. Maybe this whole thing is a bad idea. Bad idea or not, I know I don’t have a choice. What is a bad idea, is second guessing everything I do. That is what’s going to make this all fall apart. I need to own this and make it work. I need the power of positive thinking.

Spinning around in my seat, I watch the lights from the Chicago skyline fade until I can barely make them out through the thick layer of fog. My heart pounds. I’m finally doing this. A rush of excitement surges through me, but right alongside that excitement is pure fear. I’m more scared about this than I have been about anything else before. For the first time in my life, I will be completely alone. There will be nobody to bail me out if I get into trouble. No Michael five minutes away when I need him. I know it’s only three weeks until he’s here with me, but what if I can’t handle this?

Look forward not back. I take comfort in the words my mother used to say. I was too young to remember her, but my father always made sure I never forgot her.

Turning around, I take out the envelope that Michael handed me and carefully tear it open. Inside is a decent amount of cash, enough to set me up for at least a few weeks, some documents proving my new identity, and a photo. I pick up the photo and smile, tracing my finger over the faded surface. I remember exactly when this was taken.

We were thirteen and on vacation, waiting for my father to get out of an unscheduled meeting that felt like it was taking all day. Just when I thought he was done, he told me he had to get back home. I was annoyed that he was giving up time with me for work, because he’d promised me that the trip was just going to be about us.

Michael saw how upset I was and insisted on taking me down to the beach to play with his new camera before we left. What followed was a day full of fun, laughter, and memories I’d never forget. I gaze down at the two of us in the photo, making faces at the camera and smile.

It feels like a lifetime ago. That was before I realized what a bad world I lived in, a world where people would do anything to get what they wanted and revenge meant everything. That was how this whole mess with me having to marry into another family began. Revenge. But this was not my war to fight. Why should I be the one who suffers the consequences? Why should I give up my dreams to satisfy some long running feud that is probably never going to be truly resolved?

If my mother was still alive, she wouldn’t have let this happen. She would’ve fought for me, just like she fought for me twenty years ago. I touch my neck, running my finger along the delicate chains of the fine gold necklace until I find the ring. It’s the only thing I have left of my mother.

I take a deep breath and swallow past the lump in my throat. Tears sting my eyes, but I’m not going to cry. I refuse to. Focus on something good, something positive. The first thing that enters my mind is Michael and how none of this would’ve been possible if it wasn’t for him. I owe him more than he’ll ever know. I smile, knowing how lucky I am to have a friend like him. He’s like a brother to me, someone I love with all my heart.

I rest my head against the window and gaze out into the darkness. I should try to get some sleep. It’s going to be a long trip, and I know if I stay awake I’m just going to overthink things. Stressing over everything isn’t going to help. What’s done is done. If I get to my destination without the bus being intercepted by my father, then I have a real chance at making this work.

I close my eyes and listen to the sound of my thumping heart. My arms curl around my waist as I hug my bag tightly against me, because it’s all I have left.

Two

Adam

Mason, for God’s sake, if I have to tell you one more time to get your feet off my desk…

I stop and stare at my son, wishing for just one second he’d listen to me instead of inflicting me with his pre-teen angst. And God help me, he’s only ten. Without even looking up, he dons his trademark scowl and mutters something incomprehensible under his breath.

Why don’t you repeat that? I growl. I stalk over to him and shove his feet off my desk, then crouch down so my face is inches from his.

He barely even flinches as he stares back at me. "I said, Mom never had a problem with me having my feet on the furniture."

Yeah? Well, I’m not your mother, and unless you want me to take your Xbox and iPad from you permanently, you’ll do as I tell you.

I smirk as he hesitates, as if weighing how serious I am. When he crosses his feet under him and glares at the floor, I resist the urge to pump my fist. It’s a small victory, but it’s the first time in a long time he’s even come close to listening to me.

Whatever, he mutters.

I’m at my wits end with him. It’s been nearly six months since we moved here, and his behavior, if anything, has gotten worse. I’ve tried everything, from being his friend, to being his parent, but I just can’t seem to get through to him. I know he blames me for uprooting him from his life and taking him away from his mother, and while I get that, I can’t put up with his attitude for much longer.

His mother, of course, can’t do a thing wrong in Mason’s eyes. God knows what lies she fed him prior to the divorce, but moving here wasn’t my choice, neither was having the kids fulltime. I thought they’d be better off with their mother, considering how much I’d failed them over the years, but Darla had other ideas.

She claimed she married too young and never got to experience freedom. She’s been traveling around the world ever since leaving me to deal with Mason and Sadie, alone. Moving back here was the only option I had, because at least here, I had help with the kids. Now that we were here, I wouldn’t change it for anything.

I glance out into the reception area where Sadie stands by the reception desk, fascinated with everything my secretary is doing. She peeks over the edge of Karen’s desk, staring in wonder as she moves from one task to the next, stopping every few moments to explain to Sadie what she’s doing.

At least Sadie seems to have adjusted to everything okay. The move didn’t faze her at all, nor did starting a new school. She has lots of friends, loves to dance and sing. All around, she’s just a happy six-year-old. I watch her fondly as she fires question after question at Karen, before turning my attention back to Mason. Now, if only I could make some headway with him.

"Look, I know how much you miss your mother, but it’s been six months, Mace. You need to at least try. I take a breath and study his sullen face. You never know, you might actually like it here if you give it a chance."

It’s your own fault he hates you. If I’d spent less time representing criminals and doing whatever it took to win and spent more time with my family, then I might’ve actually had a chance at a relationship with my son. I knew exactly what a shit father I’d been over the last few years.

The late nights, the missed milestones, and the drinking to cope with all the stress had created a major rift between me and my son that I wasn’t sure I could repair. All I’d wanted was keep my family intact. I worked harder to keep up with our skyrocketing debts, and then Darla would spend more money to cope with me not being there.

It was a cycle I couldn’t break. At first, it was just extra hours and longer days, but before long I was doing whatever it took to win. I’ve done plenty of things I wasn’t proud of in recent months, and I could blame Darla all I wanted, but at some point, I had to take responsibility for my own actions.

I should’ve ended things with Darla long time ago. I knew we weren’t working, and I think she knew it too. We never worked. We fueled the bad in each other. This whole divorce and move would’ve been easier if Mason were three or four years younger.

But I don’t like it, he argues. His bottom lip quivers as he glares at me. "I hate it here. I hate school, the kids are mean. I just want my old friends back. I just don’t understand why we had