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- Herausgeber: BookRix
- Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
- Sprache: Englisch
Tristan, young broke bartender, tries to keep up with obstacles of life but due to a bad decision is thrown into a grim world that will be the start of his new life.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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The Russian Mafia Boss’s Bought Rose
Volume 1
Diana Baker
Copyright ©2022Diana Baker
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Disclaimer
All graphic acts taking place are solely based on fiction. All characters illustrated are over the age of 18. The storyline is strictly fictional and makes use of creativity. It is not intended to offend any group or individual.
Prologue
“Do you know why I outbid everyone else to have you?”
He asked.
His fingers combed through the boy’s golden hair just over the tip of his ear. Tristan wondered if he ever killed someone with that same hand.
“No, master I don’t.”
Petrov smirked with a superior expression.
“Because you were something all of us have never seen at every black-market auction put together. A sweet-looking and sexy American boy. You are…a fantasy for many, are you aware of that?”
Tristan folded his lips tossing his master a meek look. “No master.”
One finger crept rapidly to his mouth. The brown-haired Russian inched even closer so much that he was soon inhaling the fresh expensive smell the man’s designer clothes gave off. He was not accustomed to such a smell only by sniffing a magazine in a fancy department store has he ever gotten the chance.
“I like your lips don’t hide them from me. They remind me of cherries two ripe full round cherries I’m dying to taste.”
Tristan shuddered.
Not knowing what to do or say to his master. But it was clear he didn’t have to either because Petrov was in hot arousal without him doing well…anything.
Tristan had been used to it by ordinary men which this mafia king was not.
He was kidnapped and then sold like a pricy piece of meat now he was forced to do whatever it meant to survive a…His stressful mind was abruptly blocked out by a strong mouth claiming his lips.
The Russian’s hand rested on his leg while the other braced the back of his neck. The man’s mouth was pressed onto his and moved over them as if he wanted to taste every drop off of the boy’s lips. Tristan gasped for breath when he broke the make-out session.
“Have you ever been kissed before?”
He looked up at Petrov, who was now standing straight again, hands in his pockets. His dark eyes once more studied him like a hungry hawk.
Why all the questions the American boy thought to himself. He was helpless and here only to serve his owner. Petrov could throw him on the bed and have his way with him in any manner, shape, or form. The man could quench every sexual need he had from the second Tristan entered his room.
So, why the hell waste time?
What difference would his love life’s history make?
“Yes. But never like that.”
He said honestly.
No point thinking of a nicer response Mr. Mafia might react badly. Tristan couldn’t read him easily either.
“You’ve been kissed before but never by taken any man. I don’t need to guess it. I know just by looking at you. There must have been tons of them vying for you with their hopes in their hands.”
Petrov cupped the boy’s chin though his loins were impatient so was his curiosity about his pretty blonde slave.
“How did I end up here?”
Tristan thought.
In that tense moment, it was all he could ponder.
When he recalled the foolish choices made. He wanted to just go back in time smack the shit out of himself and shout. “Do you know what the fuck you’re getting yourself into!”
Yet, he did it.
Now he’s screwed. Literally going to be screwed,by whom?
He will soon find out.
He watched as the mansion staff went into a frenzy hurrying from the kitchen to the most lavish dining room he’s ever seen.
Mister Winston, like an army general, issued instructions to the chiefs, maids, and even the intimating security guards. It seemed his authority was practically carved within the walls of this pristine mansion. No other employee wielded such power and command as he did.
While everyone was distracted, Tristan took the opportunity to steal a peek out the front window of the main hall. There, he was able to see the large gates slowly opening with about three black SUVs driving along the stony pathway.
The mobster king had arrived.
The crime boss who bought him.
His prisoner.
Henry Petrov.
He had been told was his name.
“Come boy!”
He jolted.
Turning back to Winston’s attention he saw all staff members in a line with their hands clasped in front of them like diligent children.
“Sorry sir,” He muttered to Winston.
The older man ushered him to the end of the staff line.
“Since it’s your first day, you must be cordially introduced to the master. Put your hands together and keep your head bowed, that’s how you will go to him. Understood?”
Tristan nodded.
His heart was racing like a machine.
“You do not talk unless he speaks to you and only lift your head if he tells you to. You’ll remain right there for now.”
After that instruction, the senior man in charge went by the two vintage-modeled wooden doors. He waited for the right moment to fling them apart.
“Welcome back, master Henry.”
Several footsteps came up a step and quickly proceeded to the dining room.
“Winston, how are you today?”
A tall dark-haired man uttered.
“Wonderful, master.”
Tristan couldn’t make out how the man looked since his head had been lowered.
Expensive clothes, probably designer, and muscles that were visible through long sleeves. That was the only image of the master he could see before he handed a coat to Mister Winston and joined the other men.
The senior folded the coat and handed it over to the first maid in line.
“Alright, let’s finish preparing the master’s meal for this evening.”
The minute he said that everyone scattered the way bees did if someone troubled their hive.
Tristan watched them wondering if he should help with anything.
Adjusting his bow tie and then smoothening out the sides of his jacket, the senior approached the young man and tossed him a softer look than usual.
“Are you nervous?”
Tristan looked at the older man surprised.
Without thinking he replied, “of course, I’m nervous, more than that I’m terrified…”
The American boy couldn’t stress enough.
The senior made a grimace one that almost seemed to be sympathetic.
“You need not fret so much. Do what I told you. Continue to be the obedient boy you’ve been so far and you should be fine.”
“So I should let him rape me kindly. Is that what’re saying?”
Tristan wanted badly to retort.
But he had numbed his fighting spirit.
A maid came into the main hall. Mister Winston was soon drawn to the kitchen to approve the dinner courses.
Standing there alone, he sighed.
“How could I?”
Tristan you fucking idiot!
One month ago…
“Shit, where did I put the stupid thing?”
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