Merciless Union (The Petrov Mafia #1) Read Online Ivy Davis

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: The Petrov Mafia Series by Ivy Davis
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Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
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His duty was to choose me but his desire claimed me…
I am married off to the head of the Bratva, Maxim Petrov.
Taken from my safe home,
I’m thrust into an entirely new world:
One filled without mercy.
My new husband is a cold, ruthless man.
My body is consumed by him,
While my heart knows he could break it.
I want to love him,
But he’s made it so difficult.
I try to break through the ice surrounding his heart.
Can I do it in time to save our marriage?
If I can’t,
Both me and my husband will be bound together forever…
Stuck in a marriage without love.

FULL BOOK START HERE:

CHAPTER 1

Maxim

I watch as my father’s body is lowered into the ground, listening to the cries around me. My hands clench at my sides. Most of those cries are fake. My father wasn’t the most loved man—in fact, more people hated than loved him. But it’s a mafia funeral.

Everything is for show.

I glance around at the guests attending my father’s funeral. Over a hundred people showed, probably to get in my good graces. With my father gone, I’m head of the Bratva now.

The men who used to work for my father now work for me. I see some of them nod at me, offering pitying looks. Others exchange secretive glances as if I can’t see. We all know what’s about to happen.

A bloodbath.

Even though I’m the rightful heir to the Bratva in New York, many of my father’s men will want to contest it. The majority of them will fall in line the minute I’m officially made the boss, but I know—and they know—some of them will try to take over.

A few might even try to kill me.

I have to be on my guard and take ownership of the Bratva as soon as this funeral is over, claiming my rightful place.

I won’t get killed because my father unexpectedly died at fifty-eight. He should have had many more years left. But drinking and sleeping around will take a toll on the body. He died in the arms of one of his many mistresses, much to my mother's shame, Vasilisa.

She’s standing beside me, her head held high, no tears in her eyes. With her cool blonde hair and startling blue eyes, my mother is a fierce-looking woman. She won’t cry for anyone, which I learned growing up. She especially won’t cry for the man who left her with unsteady leadership and fucked another woman in her bedroom.

I’m proud of her, but I know my mother—she’s never needed anyone’s approval. She’ll make it clear how she feels about you, whether you like it or not.

A smaller hand grips my own. I glance down at my baby sister, Kira. She has our mother’s looks while I take after my father with his dark hair and deep blue eyes.

At only fifteen, Kira will feel the death of our father the hardest. She looks up at me, tears leaking from her eyes, and I offer her a small smile. I can’t show any affection to my siblings in public, not in front of the men who expect me to be a ruthless leader. But Kira needs my support as best as I can offer it.

I squeeze her hand, hoping she finds some comfort in it.

Elena, my other sister, sighs as she watches the casket disappear. She’s the spitting image of our mother and a lot like her, too—cold and reserved. The Ice Princess of the Bratva, as she’s nicknamed.

At her side is our brother, Alexei. He wipes at his eyes, trying to look tough. Good. He needs to learn that Bratva men don’t show their emotion in public. If something were to ever happen to me, Alexei would be next in line to take over. I can’t have him breaking down, even though it’s our father’s funeral. There’s no mercy within the mafia.

It’s something I had to learn the hard way growing up.

Quick, hard fists from my father. I had bruises throughout most of my childhood. Eventually, I got used to them, though my father stopped trying to hurt me after I got bigger and stronger. I was no longer weak. Now, at thirty, I haven’t let anyone hit me in over ten years. It’s a good feeling. A strong feeling.

Once the casket is fully lowered into the ground and everyone is dispersing to head to the reception, I take one last look around at everyone who showed up. I recognize many of the men since they’ve attended meetings with my father for years. Though, I don’t recognize their families. Now that I’ll be the leader of the Bratva, I need to start memorizing faces and names. I need to know who’s on my side and who’ll cause trouble.

A flash of red catches my eye.

A younger woman is standing next to an older man, her eyes downcast. Her features are stunning, elegant, and refined. There’s a poise to her I find intriguing. Red hair frames her face so perfectly, and I feel the urge to wrap my hands in it.


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