Chapter 105 Chapter 105 The Mafia Boss' Birthday
I step back inside the ballroom and head straight for the bar without looking at anyone. I order a shot, knock it back immediately, then ask for a Long Island iced tea. I shouldn’t be drinking—I know that—but fuck it. Maybe it will dull the edge, numb whatever is clawing at my chest.
Anton slides up beside me, already talking. His voice is smooth, practiced, the kind that probably works on most women. Not me. I barely acknowledge him, just nodding or humming while I sip my drink. Across the room, Illia Sr. watches us, his gaze heavy.
I roll my eyes as Anton leans closer, lowering his voice. I’m not interested.
The room is packed. Not just with people—but with power. Gangsters, bosses, men who command rooms without saying a word. Security is thicker than usual, bodies stationed everywhere. And the girls—barely dressed, draped over men twice their age, sitting in laps like ornaments. At Illia Sr.’s table, it’s worse. Some of those girls look young enough to be granddaughters.
The dance floor pulses with bodies.
I spot Vladimira grinding against Ivan, her back pressed to him. He looks too comfortable. Too much like me.
A laugh slips out before I can stop it.
Miroslav is dancing nearby with one of the other girls from their group. His eyes find mine through the crowd, and he winks.
I scoff softly.
Jax appears moves between Anton and I, leaning his elbow on the bar. “Annoying, isn’t he?” he says, nodding toward Miroslav. “Can’t stand him.”
“I’m starting to think we agree on more things than I thought,” I mutter, turning slightly as Dimitri walks back into the room.
And oh—yeah. “I have blue balls” is practically stamped across his face.
Jax snickers under his breath. “What did you do to my baby brother?”
“Nothing at all,” I say, pressing my lips together in an exaggerated pout.
Jax watches me for a second, amused, then runs a hand through his strawberry blond hair. The contrast between that and his dark eyes—so similar to Ivan’s—is striking.
“Do you want to dance, Jax?” I ask suddenly.
His smile spreads, dimples cutting deep into his cheeks. He rubs the scar on his eyebrow, leaning closer. “I’m not nice, doll.”
“I didn’t ask for nice, did I?”
I don’t want nice.
I want rough.
I want to be manhandled, pushed, broken apart and put back together.
“Looks like you struck out, nephew!” Jax calls over his shoulder as he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the dance floor.
He wastes no time. He turns me away from him, then yanks me back, slamming me down against him. My ass hits him hard, and he forces my hips into a slow grind, his hands locking onto me like restraints.
It’s rough.
“I saw you dancing with my father,” he murmurs into my ear. “Are you going to be number eleven?” he laughs.
“Would you call me stepmom?” I shoot back, smirking.
His hand slides up my body, fingers wrapping around my throat, pulling me closer. Not enough to hurt—just enough to control.
“If you were my stepmom,” he whispers, voice dark, “I’d bend you over my father’s bed and fuck you.”
My pulse spikes instantly. Heat pools low, sharp and sudden, soaking through me.
“You like that,” he mutters.
I push back against him, grinding deliberately, feeling him react.
“Fuck, you’re filthy,” he growls. “I want to spit on your pussy and fuck you raw out in the garden, right into the dirt until you’re screaming my name.”
“We can all hear you, Jax,” Ivan’s voice cuts in, cold and irritated.
Jax doesn’t even flinch. Instead, he spins me around until I’m facing him, his hands dropping back to my ass.
“Want to know how I got this scar?” he asks, tapping his eyebrow.
“Shut the fuck up,” Ivan snaps.
Jax grins, one dimple deepening. “Fresh scar. Few years back. I was fucking Ivan’s mom, and he caught us. Missed my eye by millimeters.”
I laugh, turning away, rolling my hips as I drop low and rise slowly again.
“I loved watching you play soccer,” Jax continues, leaning in, his breath hot against my ear. “The way they chanted your nickname… fuck, it made me hard.” He spins me again, pulling me back into him. “You going to play for the San Diego Devils?”
How does he know about that?
“No.” I loop my arms around his neck, fingers threading into his hair. He closes his eyes for a brief second. “After my sister’s wedding, I’m traveling. Maybe with my guy—if he lasts that long. Then I’m going home.”
“Where’s home?”
“You’re not even going to ask about the boyfriend?” I tease.
“If it was serious,” he says simply, grabbing my ass again, “you wouldn’t let me touch you like this.”
“That’s enough!” Ivan’s voice drops, sharper now.
He releases Vladimira and cuts between us.
Jax steps back slowly, hands raised in mock surrender. “About time, you pussy. Thought you loved her. Why let me touch her like that? You into sharing?” A dark laugh escapes him.
I stick my tongue out at him, grinning.
He exhales, shaking his head. “If you were older…” he mutters, winking.
Ivan grabs my hand. “Let’s get you something sweet.”
We move toward the dessert table, but I glance back once more. Jax still looks sweet as hell.
I am absolutely playing with fire.
“Wipe that smirk off your face,” Ivan mutters, loading a plate like I can’t do it myself. “Stop flirting with Jax. He’s a jackass.”
I reach over, grab a cream puff, and pop it into my mouth.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I say.
He frowns. “A walk?”
“To my room,” I clarify, giving him a look. “Unless you want me to ask Jax.”
It clicks.
Finally.
Jax lit the fuse, and now I’m burning.
Ivan drops the plate and practically drags me out of the room, already pulling his phone out.
“Who are you texting?” I ask.
“Dimitri,” he says without hesitation. “We’re sharing you.”
“No.”
“Shut up, Elena,” he snaps. “I know you love him. I know you asked him to marry you. You can pretend all you want—we’re going to end up together. Me and you. And maybe Dimitri, whether he gets what he wants or not.”
By the time we reach my room, my heart is racing. Dimitri isn’t there yet.
“Ivan,” I say, stepping closer, “do you remember what I asked you last year? In your closet?”
His expression shifts instantly—cold, distant.
I smile. “Guess who gave it to me in Mexico?”
The door opens behind us.
Dimitri steps in, locking it.
“Did you fuck her with your gun, asshole?” Ivan snaps, anger exploding out of him.
I slide my dress off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. I step into Ivan’s space, slipping his jacket off, my hands brushing over his chest.
He cups my face, pulling me into a deep, consuming kiss, his tongue pushing into my mouth.
Then Dimitri is behind me—close, solid—his hands gripping my hips, his lips trailing along my neck.
They both press against me smashing me into their boner sandwich.