All Mine: A Mafia Romance

Katya’s POV. I'd just wrapped up my last activities for the day and I was getting ready to finally leave my office building The leather folders and final itineraries were piling up on my desk, and frankly, I was one spreadsheet away from losing my mind. All I could think about was Viktor and I was aching for him badly. "Make sure the St. Petersburg shipment clears customs before Thursday," I said to my assistant, not looking up as I signed off on the last export manifest of the day. "And call the catering director," I added, "If the flowers for the investors' dinner aren't white calla lilies, send them back. I won't have my father's associates thinking we’re cutting corners." My assistant clicked her pen, her eyes darting across her notepad as she scribbled down every detail. "Got it, Katya," Maria responded in her usual manner, "I’ll handle it first thing in the morning." I let out a long, exhausted breath, rubbing the bridge of my nose before reaching for my phone for the hundredth time. Still nothing. I've left Viktor a thousand and one missed calls now and he hasn't responded to any of them. He didn't even reply back to the view-once images I sent him. Surely he saw them. The message ticked blue. "Ma’am?" My assistant’s voice snapped me out of my frustration and I blinked, turning sharply. "What?" "I was just asking about the complaints from the shipping dock in Sector Four," she stammered slightly. "Do you want me to—" "Take care of it," I cut her off, waving a hand dismissively as I finally got up and reached for reached for my bag. I didn't have the patience to dig through old problems right now. "I'm too tired to listen to old news today," I added, "You take care of it." "Yes, ma'am," Maria murmured respectfully, stepping to the side as I grabbed my coat and stormed toward the private elevator. Downstairs, the heavy armored sedan was already idling at the curb. My father’s senior security men stood by the open door, watching the street with sharp, watchful eyes. "Ready to go home, ma'am?" the lead guard asked, holding the door open for me. I checked my watch and then glanced at my phone screen one last time. Still dead silent. A knot of irritation tightened in my chest as I wondered what Viktor could probably be doing to ignore my calls and not respond to my texts. "Not yet," I said, slipping the phone back into my pocket. "Take me to Viktor's office." Without a question, the men simply bowed their heads, secured the doors, and pulled away into the evening traffic. Viktor ran his operations out of one of my father’s public logistics firms—a massive, gleaming corporate building that served as a perfect, spotless shadow for the syndicate's real work. Beneath the polished marble lobby and rows of cubicles sat the sub-basement vaults, where millions in cash were stashed before being funneled through clean bank accounts. It wasn't long after we got to the building and I could see Viktor's silhouette standing by his office window as he argued on the phone. "Good afternoon, ma'am," the lobby staff chorused as I walked in, bowing with a mix of genuine respect and underlying fear as I strutted past the security turnstiles. I offered a polite, dismissive wave, flashing a brief, professional smile to a couple of regional directors before stepping directly into the private executive elevator. When I reached Viktor's floor, I didn't bother knocking. I swiped my pass-key and pushed the heavy mahogany door open. Viktor was standing by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, now looking down at the city streets while holding a phone to his ear. His sleeves were rolled up past his forearms, revealing the lean, corded muscle beneath, and his black button-down shirt was unbuttoned a couple of links too low. He always looked effortlessly dangerous in black, and God help me, it was one of a million things I loved about him. He hadn't even noticed the door open due to how invested he was in his call. A slow, devilish smile touched my lips and I slipped inside, quietly clicking the door shut behind me. The sharp tap of my heels against the hardwood floor finally gave me away. Viktor spun around, his dark eyes flashing with immediate, instinctive surprise—the kind of look he rarely let anyone else see. But before he could even open his mouth to ask what I was doing here unannounced, I closed the distance, grabbed the lapels of his shirt, and pulled him down into a hard, demanding kiss. "Hello Darling," I murmured against his lips right before pulling his lips against mine. "Do you know how long I've been aching for you?" I murmured quietly, a touch of genuine frustration bleeding into my voice as I pulled back just an inch. "I've been calling you all day." Viktor’s hands instantly found my waist, his grip firm and grounding. "Katya, I—my other phone was locked in the safe downstairs, business has been absolute hell—" I pressed a single finger firmly against his lips, cutting off his excuse. "I don't care. Whenever I call you, you answer." A slow, wicked smirk spread across his face as I said that. He loved it when I used a commanding tone with him—the reminder that underneath the quiet demeanor, I was Nikolai Volkov's daughter, and I owned him just as much as he owned me. Without a second of hesitation, he ended the active call with a tap of his thumb, tossed the phone onto his desk, and swept me right off my feet, hoisting me up against his chest and I let out a startled, excited squeal. "I knew you missed me." I said, biting my lips and his hands gripped my bum firmly. "Yes," Viktor murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his eyes burned into mine. "I missed you." Four years. We had been married for four years in an arrangement orchestrated entirely by my father. Yet, not once had I ever regretted a single day of it. Sometimes it seems a little too much to bear but I've enjoyed every breath, every quiet night and every touch we've shared. Everything with Viktor was absolute perfection. He carried me straight to his desk, setting me down on the edge before his hands immediately tangled in my hair, dragging me back down for a searing kiss. "You naughty boy," I murmured seductively before his lips moved from my mouth down to the sensitive curve of my neck, sending a delicious shiver straight through my spine, while his hand slid slowly, possessively down my thigh before pulling my panties to the side and sliding a finger across my p*ssy, teasing me. He always knew where to get me. I let out a soft, breathy moan as he felt how slippery I was and my fingers were automatically reaching down to grip the heavy leather of his belt. "F*ck me," I ordered and right on cue, his phone buzzed on the desk loudly. Viktor didn't even blink. He ignored it completely, pressing closer as I pulled his belt apart and pulled out his c*ck. It was warm and throbbing as ever and without hesitation, I rubbed the tip on my p*ssy before taking him whole. I gasped as Viktor stretched my insides and he f*cked me like a w***e. The phone buzzed a second time and then a third. By the fourth ring, I let out an annoyed huff and snatched the phone up and ended the call before he could reach it. "Nu-uh," I said, flashing him a teasing, breathless grin. "I'm not done with you yet." We were both laughing at our own ridiculousness when the phone buzzed again, vibrating violently against the wood. And without pulling out of me, Viktor finally reached out and snatched it before I could grab it first, glancing down at the screen to silence whoever was ruining our moment. The laughter died instantly in his throat as he looked at his phone. "What is it?" I asked, seeing the expression on his face. The call was from my father’s personal bodyguard. And beneath the caller ID blinked a text message preview that stopped my heart cold: The Boss is Dead.