Beautiful Beast (Perfectly Imperfect: Mafia Legacy #1)

“We’ll be working from my yacht today.”

I come to a sudden stop. “Why?”

“I thought you would enjoy spending a day outside the house.” Rafael places his palm on the small of my back, ushering me forward. “And those workers are getting on my nerves with all the racket they’re making.”

“You mean the guys who’ve been varnishing the bookshelves for the second time this week? Well, I don’t mind them. Maybe we should go back.”

Rafael halts and puts his hand under my chin, tilting my head up. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Vasilisa. What’s wrong?”

I throw a glance at the boat behind him. Yulia and I have been talking about taking a cruise one summer, but I’ve never gathered the courage to actually go.

“What if it sinks?” I blurt out.

“Why would it sink?”

“It’s a boat. They sink all the time.”

“Contrary to what you see in the movies, sinking a water vessel of this size is rather difficult. Unless the yacht hits rocks or collides with another seacraft, there’s no way that’s going to happen.” He bends so our faces are almost level. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.”

“And what about water creatures? Like sharks!”

“Well, we’ll be on board. Several feet above the waterline.” His lips pull into a tiny grin. “And in the event we get into a Sharknado scenario, and deadly fish start raining down from the sky, I have a few large caliber weapons stashed below deck.”

My eyes turn to slits as I glare at him. “That movie was beyond stupid.”

“I don’t agree. The original Sharknado is an all-time classic.” Rafael brushes my chin with his thumb, then steps away.

I trail in his wake to the narrow boarding ramp that’s connected to the smaller yacht, eyeing the thing with suspicion. Rafael steps onto it first, then turns around, extending his hand to me. Slowly, I place my palm into his. His fingers wrap around mine, his huge hand completely swallowing my own. With his sleeves rolled up and the midday sun shining down, I can see that it’s not only his hands that bear a plethora of varied uneven scars. There are many on his forearms as well. A particularly long one starts at the inside of his wrist, splits the realistic-looking image of a toothy green snake coiled around two black crossed daggers, then continues all the way up to his elbow.

“Watch your step.”

I look up and meet his gaze. “Don’t let go.”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes as he tightens his hold on my hand. “Never.”

* * *

The wind blows my hair into my face as I go over the bill of lading for the shipping container Rafael wants me to reroute. It took me almost an hour to get into the freight company system and find the exact cargo ship onto which the container in question was loaded. It shouldn’t have taken me more than twenty minutes, but I kept stealing glances at Rafael as he stood at the yacht’s helm, navigating.

I initially set up my “workstation” on the main deck, inside what looked like a cozy, luxury living room, but I felt queasy after ten minutes and climbed up to the upper deck, planting myself on the curved brown leather sunbed behind the driver’s seat. Or . . . at least, that’s the excuse for settling here that I choose to believe. Seasickness sounds much more acceptable than coming up to this lounge just so I can be closer to the man I can’t seem to ignore.

“Why are we sending this poor container on a trip around the world?” I ask as I continue modifying the records.

Rafael glances at me over his shoulder, then looks back toward the horizon. “Because Calogero’s drug shipment is inside.”

“Well, he won’t be happy when he finds it in Shanghai.”

We’ve come to a stop, and Rafael shuts down the engines. Amid the sound of waves lapping against the yacht’s hull, the telltale clang of the lowering anchor comes from the nose part of the boat.

“I’m counting on it.”

I’m sure he could have gotten one of his tech guys to do this for him, but the fact he asked me instead, makes me giddy with excitement. There aren’t many options for women within Bratva. It’s not like I can go around beating up people who owe us money or provide protection for drug shipments. One of the reasons I chose computer science as a major is that I wanted to help my family in some capacity with my IT know-how.

Grampa Felix is too old to keep up with everything that gets thrown at him and the lightning speed with which the technology is evolving, and I hoped Dad would allow me to take over the cyber tasks. Instead, he almost had a heart attack when I shared my idea with him. After nearly an hour-long tirade about how I would never poke a finger into the Bratva business, Dad promised that he would find me a “nice, safe job” in some financial institution. Someplace where I can meet a “nice, safe accountant” whom I could date.