Her Russian Billionaire Baby - Cher Etan

Her Russian Billionaire's Baby A billion-dollar Russian with a dark past... A complete Mafia romance - pdf za darmo

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Story Transcript


Her Russian Billionaire's Baby A billion-dollar Russian with a dark past... A complete Mafia romance story, brought to you by bestselling author Cher Etan. Adrian is from a very... Russian family. He’s also a billionaire, and can have pretty much whatever he wants.

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Isobel on the other hand runs a quaint pastry shop, has money problems and is pretty much his opposite in every way. But when a chance and rather awkward meeting between the two occurs, both of their lives will be changed forever! What does true love with a handsome Russian feel like? Like your world's complete, like you want his baby, like you want to marry him. But what about when his mafia past starts to show and you get caught in the middle of it all?

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Will they be able to overcome hurdles that involve not only themselves, but also the mob? Find out in this thrilling and steamy pregnancy romance by bestselling author Cher Etan. Suitable for over 18s only due to sex scenes so hot, you'll need your own Russian billionaire to fall in love with.

Get Another Contemporary And BWWM eBook Free! Hi there. As a special thank you for buying this ebook, for a limited time I want to send you another two completely free of charge directly to your email! You can get it by clicking the cover below or going here: Direct link: www.saucyromancebooks.com/ love-contemporary-or-bwwm-romance-books These books are so exclusive you can't even buy them. When you download them I'll also send you updates when new books like this are available.

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Copyright © 2016 to Cher Etan and SaucyRomanceBooks.com. No part of this book can be copied or distributed without written permission from the above copyright holders.

Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

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Chapter 10 Get Another BWWM And Contemporary Ebook Free More Books By Cher Etan

Chapter 1 Adrian first shot a gun at age twelve. The Benedikt family had their own range, and Alexei and Adrian begged Boris to take them for months until he finally broke. (Boris always told his wife, Vera that the worst torture he’d been through was having twins pestering him.) Boris set them up with a small-calibre pistol and let Alexei shoot first. He missed the target completely, and Adrian began teasing him in the garbled half-language that the twins used to communicate. “Oh, yeah?” Alexei seethed. “If you’re so good, why don’t you take a crack at it?” (This, of course, was a vague and Americanized translation because seriously that mess

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the twins spoke was crazy.) So Adrian did take a crack at it. He loaded the gun himselfturning down help from his father-and aimed steadily at the target. Now, it would be a gross exaggeration to say that all five bullets went through the bull’s eye, but he was both precise and accurate. Boris let out a booming laugh-Adrian’s favourite -and slapped the boy on the back. “Ah! The kid’s a natural!” He proclaimed, and Vera, terrifying, gorgeous Vera, smacked him upside the head and began lecturing all three of them on how they were a respectable family and she wouldn’t be having her twelve year old trained in combat. Boris agreed readily, and winked at his boys.

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Adrian was excited at the prospect of having his own gun one day. ***** Evgeni leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his powerful chest and a blank look on his stony face. The boy in front of him reached deep into his pockets and pulled out an ID that Evgeni was sure was a fake. He looked at the piece of plastic, a sneer already budding over his handsome features, and a thin eyebrow raised. He glared at the raven haired kid in front of him a moment, and then looked back at the picture. It was certainly a fake, but a damn good fake. The young man’s baby face was creamy, met with rosy cheeks due to the warmth pouring out of the club, and his blue

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eyes were piercing, but he was definitely under twenty one. He was either an old looking seventeen, or a young looking twenty, but in no way could Evgeni accept the fact that this kid was born the date his license boasted. “It’s fake. No way you’re twenty one.” Evgeni said flipping the ID over to check the back. He wondered if it was one of their fake IDs. They were made for the young prostitutes who were just under the age of consent. If they ever were caught, it could be said they were guilty of prostitution, but not the prostitution of a minor. “It’s not fake,” the kid snapped fussing with his black jacket. “I got it at the DMV after my driver’s test like everybody else. Now give it back and let me in.”

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Evgeni looked at him a moment and then back at the ID for the fourth time. He shook his head slowly, and could feel the eyes of, Adrian Benedikt according to the ID, but then that could also be fake, throwing daggers at him. “Dima?” He called over his shoulder and a tall man came toward the front. He was bigger than Evgeni, more meaty, but in no way more threatening. They both looked like thugs, and Evgeni had a gleam in his eye that told Adrian he was dangerous. Evgeni handed the big man the ID and heard Adrian huff. “I think it’s fake.” Demyan, known in public as Dima, looked at the picture on the ID and then back at the person in question. He spent more time

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looking at Adrian than the ID itself, and Adrian’s cheeks flushed even redder with outrage. “Definitely. No way are you twenty one,” Dima said and reached into his black trench coat pocket. He pulled out a large pair of scissors and sliced the license in half. The kid, Adrian Benedikt, looked like he was about to explode. He actually brought his hands up to his raven hair and pulled, something Evgeni had only seen on TV. He would laugh at the kid, but Mr. Fyodor had given him very strict orders not to antagonize the patrons, even those he sent away. “Are you crazy? That’s my license!” He yelled and snatched the two pieces of plastic from Dima’s hands. Adrian’s horror and

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anger was real enough, but Evgeni thought it only had to do with him having to go out and find another fake ID. “This is unbelievable.” Adrian’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open slightly. He seemed to be genuinely distressed and looked around a moment at a loss. When he looked back at the two doormen only anger covered his young features. “I’m really twenty one!” Evgeni and Dima looked at each other a moment. He seemed genuine. “I want to talk to the manager.” Despite the firmness in his voice Dima laughed.

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“You can’t just talk to the manager,” he said flatly, like they would let this kid in to see Mr. Fyodor. “You ruined my license. You know how much it costs to replace this? I’m not kidding. Bring me to him now.” He set his jaw and his blue eyes hardened. Evgeni sighed when he realized this kid would no doubt throw a little bitch fit if he did not get what he wanted and he happened to know that Fyodor was not exceptionally busy that night. He glanced at Dima, who let Evgeni make the final call. “Fine. Follow me,” He turned abruptly and Adrian followed, pushing through the crowds of people inside the club. He almost lost the

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asshole bouncer, who seemed completely unconcerned as to whether or not Adrian was actually following him or not. “I expect to be paid back for that,” Adrian called over the pounding music, trying to keep up with Evgeni’s long strides. Evgeni ignored Adrian as he entered the club, the red lighting and loud techno music not doing well for his pounding headache. He avoided the dance floor, walking around to the lounge area where men, mostly twenty seven and down, were into some heavy duty kissing. Adrian looked at the men with a large, surprised eyes and Evgeni rolled his eyes. They approached a large room which was blocked off from the rest of the club with tinted windows. Evgeni knocked on it twice

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with a single knuckle and waited. The door opened and a man in a dark suit stepped out. He whispered something to Evgeni and went back inside. “Come this way,” Evgeni said walked along the back of the club until they came to a door. Adrian would never have known it was there had Evgeni not gone straight to it and placed his hand on the door knob. Inside the second corridor you could barely hear the pounding music and the lighting was normal. No strobe lights to be seen. They walked down the hallway until they came to a door in the very back. Evgeni again knocked and a deep Russian bark came from inside. Adrian felt his heart flutter slightly in fear and he wet his lips. This was certainly not part of the

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plan, but perhaps Iosif would give him a bonus if he told him he had gotten into the Russian’s office and spoke to him personally. Adrian was broken from his thoughts when Evgeni opened the door and stepped inside, grabbing Adrian by the collar and pushing him forward. Adrian looked at the man behind the desk and his mouth went dry. His mind seemed to go dark and he momentarily forgot why he had even come. The Russian was the most intimidating, and most terrifying man he had ever laid his eyes upon. The man had pronounced cheekbones and a strong set jaw. His face was chiseled and masculine, but held an air of elegance Adrian could admire. His hair was auburn, closer

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to brown than red, short and parted at the side neatly. He obviously spent a lot of time each day combing his hair. Adrian remembered seeing pictures of Iosef Petrov on TV and while that man looked handsome and dangerous, he could pass as a legitimate businessman. This Russian could not. Like the bouncer who had brought him in, who Adrian could only assume was related to him, given the amazing similarity between their facial expressions, looked mean as hell. He was leaning back in his chair, a hand resting on his desk, a pen in it as Adrian appraised him, his dark eyes harsh and questioning and staring right at Adrian. “Can I help you?” He asked, his Russian accent sending a shiver of fear dow...

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