Kingpin Bride (Bride of the Billionaire Book 5) Read online

  Kingpin Bride

  Bride of the Billionaire

  Jenna Rose

  Copyright © 2019 by Jenna Rose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  About the book

  A secret that could destroy everything. Sasha Kane, notorious gangster aka. the Ice Man, has finally met his match. Jenna, ex-cheerleader and fresh out of high school warms his chilled heart and makes him want to offer her the world. But Jenna doesn’t know that the rough, brooding gangster is also responsible for the biggest tragedy of her life, and it’s only a matter of time before she discovers the truth.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  2. Ella

  3. Sasha

  4. Ella

  5. Sasha

  6. Ella

  Epilogue

  More Jenna Rose

  His Only Desire Box set

  1. About the bundle

  Chapter One

  I should be enjoying myself. Courtside at the Lakers game. Most people would kill to have the life I live. But for me, it’s no longer enough. Nothing is.

  Empty. Vacant. Cold.

  That’s me.

  They don’t call me the Ice Man for nothing.

  I wasn’t always like this; I used to be fierce, hungry, always striving for the top. And I reached the top. So what if I left countless bloody footprints on the way there? I came from nothing—the son of a Russian single-mother immigrant who died in childbirth. In and out of foster homes, orphanages, and then living on the streets. But I wasn’t about to let that stop me.

  I carved a wound-shaped hole out of the world for myself and kept everyone out until I got there. But what I realized when I got to the top of my high tower and looked down on the world was that I was alone.

  They say it’s better to be feared than loved, but I’m starting to not believe that.

  My men fear me. The other bosses in the city tiptoe around me as they go about their business. Women want me, sure, but only for what I can get them. I got the nickname the Ice Man for being focused and unshakeable, but now that chill has sunk so deep into my core that I doubt I’ll ever be happy.

  I lost the only real friend I had two years ago. Kevin. We met in an orphanage when we were eleven. We were separated a year later, but the things we went through in that year were enough to forge a friendship that was stronger than steel.

  Once I was in power, I sought him out and brought him in to work for me. Big mistake. He got caught in the crossfire, and I buried him three weeks later. And it was all my fault. I’d made a move on another boss—Big Frank, a trafficker of women, and when he couldn’t get to me, he got to Kevin.

  I watch as LeBron scores an easy layup and the crowd goes wild. I don’t even smile. The Lakers are already up by 25 as the half-time buzzer sounds. It’s an easy win. I don’t even know why I’m here other than the fact that it’s become routine and I have to show the other bosses that I’m still in charge.

  My eyes move across the various celebrities sitting courtside. Again, most people would be thrilled seeing Spiderman and Batman watching some basketball. But it’s all just routine for me.

  My eyes move back to the court as a squad of cheerleaders emerges and takes formation at center-court. The announcer says something about a high school team, and the girls start their routine. High school? Christ, what are they putting in the water these days?

  The girls easily look like they could be in college, and their routine sure isn’t something their dads would approve of. Their skirts fly up with their high kicks and their faces sparkle with false excitement. I dunno, maybe they are excited by this and not jaded like me.

  I’m about to look away when one of them catches my eye.

  Jesus…

  Something moves inside of me that I had almost forgotten was there. A warmth starts in my ears and spreads down to my chest. My eyes block out every other girl but her. My heart pounds like a fist. I have to know who she is.

  It’s like watching an angel.

  Like the other girls, she’s smiling, but there’s something beyond the jovial façade she’s wearing. Something more. Her beauty is just the tip of the iceberg. There’s a mystery to this girl that I’m dying to uncover.

  Didn’t the announcer say these girls were in high school? How could that be possible? She’s built like a woman and has my man parts responding in the only way they should. Each kick of her legs exposes the violet spandex beneath her skirt, sending my mind to the dirtiest of places.

  The things I would do to her…

  It’s almost like the rest of the stadium fades into black and white, leaving only her, moving amidst the sea of other people. There’s something special about this girl. She’s got more than my attention – she has all of me, and she doesn’t even know it yet.

  It’s impossible to pull my eyes away from her, so I raise two fingers and in an instant, my number two is at my side.

  “Sir.”

  “Her,” I say, pointing at my beauty. “Who is she?”

  “I’ll find out, sir.”

  I watch in awe as she finishes her routine, and as she leaves the court with the rest of the girls, I feel a sudden sense of loss I can’t explain. Just before she vanishes into the back of the stadium, our eyes meet, and my body comes alive.

  A swell of desire like I’ve never known hits me like a truck, and I go instantly hard. Christ, I need to have her.

  I’m not waiting either. I’m out of my seat in an instant and following her. The security guards know better than to fuck with me. Everyone in this town knows who I am and what I’m capable of. They don’t give me a second glance as I move, and when I round the corner, I see her.

  The rest of the girls are already ahead of her; she’s bent over tying her sneaker, giving me a full view of her ass, plump and perky beneath her Lakers skirt. The spandex frames it perfectly, and I groan.

  I would bury my face in there and lick every sweet inch.

  As she stands, she stretches, causing her back to arch and causing me to picture her bent over on my bed beneath me. I know from her routine that she’s flexible as all hell, which is perfect, considering all the various positions I’m going to put her through.

  Her athletic sneakers could go though. All I want her in are heels or nothing—or heels and nothing else. Those athletic legs would look incredible wrapped around my waist while I fuck her silly.

  She leans down and takes a sip from the water fountain as I approach, my eyes devouring her every curve, of which she has many. As I grow closer, it’s almost as though I can feel a physical pull between us—like gravity. Impossible to ignore.

  I wonder if she feels it too.

  I realize that the hallway has all but cleared out. We’re alone. When I’m right up on her, I smell her perfume, gently masking her natural scent. Closing my eyes, I breathe her in and imagine just what it would be like to wake up to that every morning.

  Her hair is a bit of a mess, which I love. She looks like she’s just been fucked. I want to thread my fingers through it and force her pretty little face down on my cock. God, I want her.

  I can’t resist. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way
. I reach out and gently finger a string of her hair.

  “Hello,” I say softly. “That was quite the performance—”

  But I don’t even have time to get my compliment out. She shrieks, whirls around, and sprays a stream of mace at my face.

  2

  Ella

  “Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing!?”

  my would-be assailant shouts and leaps back from my incredible self-defense system I recently purchased when the squad announced we’d be going out on the road one last time. The other girls laughed at me—told me I was paranoid—but who’s laughing now?

  Of course I never thought I’d be using it to defend myself against Sasha Kumarin, the notorious Russian mobster, aka the Ice Man.

  “Help!” I shout to the empty corridor. “Somebody!”

  Instantly, there’s a hand over my mouth and a vise-like arm around me. His strength is incredible; he could crush my ribs if he wanted to. I have no doubt.

  “Quiet,” he growls. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “You’re hurting me right now,” I counter.

  “Don’t lie. I know my own strength, and you’re an athletic girl. You’re fine.” How is he talking to me? Didn’t I just mace him? “I’m going to let you go now. Please don’t scream or run. I don’t want to have to do anything unpleasant.”

  His arm relaxes, he removes his hand, and I take a step back from him.

  I could run, if not for his eyes. Cold and blue, they hold me in place, almost as though the Ice Man has turned me to ice.

  He gives me nothing. I’m pretty good at reading people, but it’s as though he’s hiding behind a mask—a mask of terrifying sexiness. His face is hard, carved by the dangerous life he’s lived. Everyone in Los Angeles knows the stories of the feared Russian crime boss and his exploits.

  “Isn’t doing unpleasant things your m.o.?”

  “To unpleasant people who deserve it,” he replies. “Not innocent little things like you.”

  “I’m hardly innocent,” I counter. “I’m a cheerleader.”

  “No, you are,” he replies without hesitation. He sees right through me. “You’re not like the other girls. You’re different.”

  He must have dodged my mace, because his eyes aren’t red, and he’s not coughing like he’s about to die. I suddenly feel small and stupid standing before him. My self-defense protocol didn’t work. If he’d wanted to, I could be in the back of his car now being taken to who-knows-where.

  I can almost feel his gaze as it moves down my body like a dangerous snake. I’ve never been more self-conscious in my life. His eyes linger on my hips, making me wonder if I spilled something on my skirt, then continue down my legs.

  “Your shoe’s untied,” he remarks flatly.

  “I was trying to tie it when you interrupted me,” I counter. I start to lean down, but he moves first and gets on his knees and takes my laces into his hands.

  Is this really happening? Is Sasha Kumarin tying my shoe for me? I must be dreaming.

  “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m not going to propose to you.”

  “No? Why not?”

  He stands, and I realize just how tall he really is. He towers above me. He has to be well over six-feet tall and somewhere in his 30s. I don’t feel like I have anything close to a daddy fetish or anything like that, but it’s impossible to deny his sexuality. He’s absolutely dripping with dominance.

  “Why…are you not going to propose to me?” The question is so absurd I can’t believe I’m asking it. “Why would you?”

  “No one’s ever proposed to you before….?”

  There’s a pause, and I realize he’s waiting for my name. But I’m not so sure I want to give it to him.

  “Either you tell me, or I find out another way,” he says. “Come on. Make it easy on both of us.”

  “Ella,” I reply.

  “Shit.” He shakes his head and almost smiles. The show of emotion actually surprises me.

  “What?”

  “It’s a cute name,” he replies. “Rolls off my tongue a little too easy.”

  “Too easy?” I ask, but there’s no time. He reaches out and gently strokes my cheek with the back of his hand. I know I should pull away or stop him or say something, but my brain just doesn’t seem to work. It’s like an electrical zap has temporarily fried my circuits or something, and all I can do is stand there and take it.

  “Ella…” he muses. “Yeah, I can hear myself saying that every goddamn morning, beautiful.”

  I swallow as he stares at me. The power of his eyes is undeniable, and I can only imagine what kind of a monster he must be to those men who choose to cross him. It doesn’t feel real, standing before him as he drinks me in with his eyes.

  “You wouldn’t want to marry me,” I tell him. “After all the women you must have had…I’d totally disappoint you.”

  “Disappoint me?” He almost laughs as he eyes me up and down again. “I think you underestimate yourself…”

  His voice trails off, and although his face is stony and unmoving, I see a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

  Shit.

  “You’re a virgin…”

  My cheeks flush. At first, I feel like I’m simply embarrassed for the sake of it, but then I realize that I’m embarrassed because I don’t want to disappoint him. He’s doing nothing to hide his desire for me, and here I am trying to beat mine back. But why? My body is making it very clear; I want him.

  But I don’t even know him. What’s worse, I should be terrified of him. This is a man who forged an empire out of the blood of his enemies, and he’s turning me on? I must be going insane. But I guess it feels pretty good being crazy.

  “I—I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t be stupid,” he growls, moving right in on me. “You think that turns me off, gorgeous? No. That turns me on. I want to be the first and only man to claim that fresh, untouched pussy. Tell me, baby. I heard the announcer say something about high school. You’re not going to break my heart by being underage, are you?”

  My blush grows so hot it’s almost painful. I shake my head. “No! I’m eighteen. I graduated already. That was just my high school team doing that performance.”

  He breathes a visible sigh of relief, then ever so gently reaches out and strokes a wisp of my hair and hooks it behind my ear.

  “Barely legal…” he mutters, as though contemplating his next move. “You’ve got me so turned on, gorgeous. I could take you right here and now. I could pull you into one of these rooms, have that Lakers skirt up around those hips of yours, and show you what you’ve been missing.”

  “I…”

  “And I can see in your eyes that you want it,” he growls, seemingly growing larger as he steps closer. “I bet that teenage pussy of yours is already wet for me.”

  He’s right.

  Jesus, I hadn’t even noticed. As I shift my thighs, I can feel the damp. I’m more than aroused for this man, this dangerous stranger that I only just met. It doesn’t make sense. If I explained this to any of the girls on the team, they’d think I was crazy.

  Or would they?

  How would they feel standing before this man, staring up at his powerful jaw and dangerously sexy face? I doubt they’d be able to resist either. But it’s not just his physical traits that have me going. It’s something more. The way he’s acting like he already owns me…

  “In one of the back rooms?” I reply. “Not exactly rom-com material.”

  His eyes blaze, and he cocks his head to one side. “Rom-com? Gorgeous, there’s nothing comedic about my life. Did you forget who I am?”

  “I guess—I guess what I’m saying,” I stammer, stumbling over my words, “is I doubt that’s how most girls picture their first time. Shouldn’t it be with someone I love?”

  “Is that what your daddy told you?”

  “No,” I say. “My dad’s dead.”

  Finally, there’s a crack in his armor. His expression falters for a microsecond. He
shows sympathy, but it’s wiped away immediately.

  “I’m sorry,” he replies. “I never knew my parents.”

  My heart goes out to him—him. Sasha Kumarin, the Ice Man, feared across Los Angeles. Most people must be terrified by him, but I see something else behind his eyes, and I’m desperate to know more.

  I wait for him to speak, but it’s like he’s processing. There’s an internal debate going on in his mind. I wait and wait and wait until the tension is almost unbearable. His expression shifts and I’m sure he’s going to ask me out—or whatever the kingpin equivalent of that is—but I couldn’t be more wrong.

  “No.” He shakes his head. “I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  “What?” I gasp in disbelief. “What wouldn’t be fair?”

  “Claiming you, Ella. As much as I am dying to feel your soft body underneath mine—as much as I want to give you more pleasure than you could ever dream of experiencing, I can’t…”

  Is he serious? After all this he’s just going to back away? I thought telling the story to my friends about how a notorious kingpin swept me off of my feet and took me back to his home would be unbelievable, but telling them how he hit on me and then left me alone would seem even less believable.

  “Why? Sasha, do you think you don’t deserve me?”

  It’s an honest question. There’s something going on beneath his hard exterior that I can’t quite pinpoint.

  “No,” he admits. “I don’t deserve you, gorgeous. You’re young, pure, and good. I’m a bad, bad old man…”

  “Old? How old are you, Sasha?”

  “I’m twice your age, gorgeous.”

  “Thirty-six?” I ask.