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The Life

The Life

Author:BethanyKris

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Introduction
The mafia life is a dangerous one revolving around honor, duty, and greed—a troublesome thing like love isn’t meant to play a part, but no one follows the rules. Surrounded by men waiting for the Russian mob boss to show weakness, Anton Avdonin should have known showering affection so openly on his new bride wasn’t a good idea. Of course, that didn’t stop him. When Anton’s wife begins attracting unwanted attention from an unknown source, he’s determined to find out just who is playing the risky game and put a stop to it by whatever means necessary. From a Cosa Nostra princess to a Bratva queen, Viviana “Vine” Avdonin was made for the life. Pregnant, safe, and loved, she’s more than happy to move on from the history that haunts her to start out fresh. Then again, someone else has other plans. Old rivals from the past and bad blood from the present have mixed in the worst way, threatening to take away the things Viviana loves the very most. No matter what, she can’t let that happen. Both Viviana and Anton know there’s only one way this can all end and it’s up to them to do it. But, who is behind the veiled threats and personal attacks, and how far are they willing to go to get what they want? When the truth finally surfaces, the consequences will be devastating and no one could have seen it coming. In a life where everybody plays for keeps and no one fights fair, one mistake might cost them everything. The Russian Guns, 2
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Contents

“I’ve narrowed it down to three, Mr. Avdonin.”

Anton glanced up from the case displaying watches at the jeweler’s voice. Richard, his usual jeweler, sent him to this particular place of business for the piece he was looking for.

After all, pearls were a speciality for some. For others, they were only a fancy.

“And?” Anton asked.

The jeweler produced three black velvet cases from under the counter. The first held a two stranded, white pearl design. A bit too simplistic for what Anton desired. He waved off the necklace, his gaze traveling to the second. Larger pearls with a pink sheen rested on a white gold strand of thin chain, each globe separated by a good inch of space. It was intended to hang low on the chest of the person wearing it.

“This is a bit long,” Anton said.

“It’s meant to draw attention to the clothes being worn, and not so much the pearls.”

“I want to show off the woman, not her clothes.”

“Ah, point taken.” With a faint smirk, the jeweler waved at the third. “This may be more to your liking, then.”

Anton went back to surveying the final piece with little interest. Much like the first one, it was a simple white design, only instead of two strands, there were four. Even with the simplicity of it, the jewelry still screamed flashy. It wasn’t long enough to be called a necklace, in his opinion, as it looked short enough to be more of a choker.

Anton wasn’t trying to brand his wife with a collar.

“No. None of these.”

The jeweler seemed struck speechless. “None?”

“They’re not to my wife’s tastes or style. She wears the jewelry, not the other way around.” With a sigh, Anton asked, “What about gray pearls?”

“Gray?”

Anton shrugged. “Why not? If you have them, I’d like to see them.”

“I do, but they’re very …”

“Expensive? I don’t care, show me.”

Money was the least of his concerns. People usually assumed the more expensive the jewelry, the flashier it was. That wasn’t always the case. Sometimes the most costly pieces came in modest designs. It was about the quality, not the quantity.

As Anton said, his wife wore the jewelry, the jewelry didn’t wear her. Viviana Avdonin didn’t need accessories to class her up, she did that all on her own.

The jeweler wasn’t gone but five seconds before a feminine form saddled up beside Anton at the counter. Slender fingers reached down to caress the rows of pearls left resting in their precious velvet. Each digit was adorned with rings that glittered off the lighting in the shop.

One of those rings in particular, Anton recognized.

The hackles on the back of his neck raised in his disgust and anger. “Tatiana.”

“Anton.” Tatiana purred his name, leaning on the counter with one arm. The low cut dress she wore showcased her cleavage, opening further as she stretched over the counter to snag the third case of pearls, dragging them towards her. “Funny meeting you here.”

Anton beat back his scowl. “Yes, funny.”

Tatiana Belov was the devil in a pretty package. Slender, tall, and curvaceous in all the places that mattered, she didn’t lack male attention. Her blue eyes stung like steel, her blonde hair perfectly managed in waves, and an attitude that said she’d take all or nothing. Less than two years before, after Anton rejected her, she’d attempted to burn his club to the ground. Less than one year ago, the vile woman cornered his soon-to-be wife and verbally attacked her.

Being an old lover of his, Tatiana was due her jealousies. Anton didn’t deny her that, but he had thought he made it clear as to his lack of interest or desire to have her again. Especially now that he and Viviana were married.

“What are you doing here, Tatiana?”

“Visiting a friend,” she said vaguely. “These are beautiful.”

Anton rolled his eyes. She would think they were something, if the jewelry she wore was any indication. Beyond that, Anton knew Tatiana enjoyed the expensive things that came along with living in the mafia lifestyle. Clothes that were on the runway only weeks ago, gems the size of large marbles, and vehicles that were drool-worthy … No, the girl didn’t lack in her tastes.

Unfortunately, her father indulged her far too much. Spoiled, beautiful, and rich, Tatiana was every man’s worst nightmare. She wasn’t wife material, she spread her legs to get what she wanted, and her mean streak couldn’t be contained. Anton didn’t trust her in the least.

Speaking of which … “I have a sit-down with your father later today. Is that why you’re here?”

“Do you?” Tatiana at least had the decency to look surprised. “I didn’t know. Should I call—”

“Cut the shit,” Anton interrupted coldly. “What do you want, Tati?”

“Nothing. I told you, I’m visiting a friend.”

The way she cooed the word twisted something in Anton’s gut. Instincts or nerves, whatever someone wanted to call it, he had it in the gallons. When they acted up, Anton tended to take notice.

“I told you the last time we met up that you were not to come back here, Tati.”

Tatiana tapped her manicured nail to the glass counter. “No, you told me to stay out of your territory. I’ve not been in Brighton Beach since. You don’t own Brooklyn as a whole, Anton.”

Fuck, he hated that was true.

“Why do I doubt this is just a random meeting?”

“Well, it is,” Tatiana said, unbothered. “I noticed your car outside when I was leaving a shop across the street and came to say hello. Surely we can be friends, can’t we?”

No, Anton thought.

Before he could respond, the jeweler was making his way towards them from the back of the shop. Only one case rested in his hands. The man didn’t even acknowledge the girl now standing at his counter, as he seemed wholly focused on the velvet he held so carefully.

“Mr. Avdonin, these may be just what you’re looking for. Three strands, gray pearls ranging from small to large going from the top of the strand to the bottom with a diamond studded clasp at the back. They stay in my vault, as they were purchased for a specific customer who changed his mind last minute. They are much too expensive to be out here with the others. I only bring them out on request. Please do not touch unless wearing gloves.”

Anton liked this man. He was straightforward and blunt. There was something to be said for those qualities.

“The price?” Anton asked.

The pearls were placed to the glass in their case, and Anton knew instantly they were the ones.

“Eight,” the jeweler answered.

“Thousand?” Tatiana asked.

The man across the counter snorted, causing Anton to smirk. “No, my dear. Eight-hundred thousand. Imported, specially designed, and meant for the proper woman.”

With those words, the jeweler tossed Tatiana a baleful look. She was not the kind of woman he would expect to see toting pearls of these caliber. She couldn’t hold the weight of them, so to speak.

“These will fit Viviana just fine, don’t you think, Tatiana?” Anton asked, stating her name for the benefit of the jeweler.

Tatiana didn’t bother to hide her glower. “Perfect, I’m sure.”

Satisfied, Anton turned back to the counter. “My wife will be pleased, thank you. Ready them for me.”

Again, the man seemed thunderstruck. “Just like that?”

“I like them. I think it’s an appropriate gift for my wife for the birth of our child. Why not?”

At the word birth, Tatiana took an entire step back. The expression she sported could only be described as slapped. “Pregnant?”

“Mmhmm,” Anton hummed, turning on his heel to face her. “Very pregnant, actually. We’re having a little boy.”

Tatiana swallowed a gulp of nothing. “Congratulations are in order, then.”

Were they? The last thing this female seemed like she wanted to do was congratulate him or Viviana. Even so, Anton sincerely hoped whatever fancy Tatiana might have previously held for him disappeared with the knowledge that his wife was carrying his child, and he had no interest in her, now.

“I should go,” Tatiana said softy, her brow furrowing. “My friend …”

Anton waved her off. “Sure. I do have a meeting to get to, after all.”

“Tell Viviana I said hello, Anton.”

Absolutely not.