NIKOLAI
⟿❂⟾ Chapter 1 ⟿❂⟾ PRESENT DAY ⟿❂⟾ People always say storms cleanse the soul. That’s a lie. Storms drown out screams, wash away blood, and mask the sound of sins being committed. I should know because I’ve used enough of them to my advantage. Tonight was no different. I stepped into the ruined chapel, shaking rain off my coat, and lit a cigarette. The place was a disaster: shattered stained glass, overturned pews, and enough mold on the walls to give a health inspector a heart attack. My money had kept the building standing this long. Now, it barely looked worth saving. “Don’t move!” The tiny voice snapped through the silence like a whip. I froze mid-drag and turned. At first, I thought I was imagining things. Maybe the storm was messing with my head. But no, there she was: a woman in a plain gray dress, clutching a rosary like it was a weapon. Her hair was tied back too tight, her face scrubbed too clean. She had remarkable grey eyes that blazed like she wanted to set me on fire. A nun. Or something close to it. God has a twisted sense of humor. “You’re trespassing,” she said, her voice sharp and clear, even over the rain pounding on the roof. I blew out a stream of smoke and smiled. “This is private property.” Her grip on the rosary tightened. “You mean your property, don’t you? The same property you neglected until it became this… this…” She gestured at the ruins, clearly searching for a word that wouldn’t make her confession list longer. “This wreck.” I shrugged. “It has character.” “You have no character,” she snapped. Okay. I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting that. Most people who speak to me like that usually aren’t alive long enough to regret it. But instead of feeling insulted, I found myself… entertained. “I take it you’re not here to thank me for the funding?” I asked, flicking ash onto the cracked floor. She stepped closer, her expression turning from angry to furious. I’d seen men point guns at me with less conviction. “You think you can absolve yourself with bricks and mortar? Repentance isn’t bought, it’s earned.” I couldn’t help it, I laughed. Not the polite kind, either. The real thing, loud and unapologetic. “You’re right. How much does forgiveness cost these days? A million? Two?” “Forgiveness isn’t for sale,” she said, her voice cold enough to rival Siberia. “Pity.” I let the cigarette dangle from my lips and looked her over, slowly. “You’re not a nun yet, are you?” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m preparing to take my vows.” “Interesting,” I said, leaning against the altar. “How does someone like you end up in a place like this? Bad breakup? Boring life?” Her eyes narrowed. “How does someone like you destroy a place like this? Too much money? Too little conscience?” Both. “You’re not a man,” she added, her voice dripping with disdain. “You’re a wolf in a suit.” “And you,” I said, smirking, “must be the lamb foolish enough to stand in my way.” She looked ready to swing that rosary at my head, and a small part of me wanted to see if she’d actually do it. “You don’t belong here,” she said finally, stepping back toward the door. “Go back to whatever pit you crawled out of. This is sacred ground.” I glanced around at the destruction. “Sacred? Looks more like a graveyard to me.” Her hand flew to her rosary, as if she was praying for patience—or strength to strangle me. “You can rebuild every wall in this place, but it won’t change who you are. You think money can cleanse your soul? It can’t.” I stepped closer, just enough to see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “I’ll only allow my soul to be cleansed if it’s your pussy juices being used as the holy water, sweetheart.” Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the storm-ravaged chapel. For the first time in years, I felt something other than the usual numbness. Intrigue. I stared at the doorway she disappeared through, rain was still slamming against the chapel roof like a goddamn funeral march. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, much less a nun who clearly knew exactly who I was. Those ungodly eyes, wild and accusing, weren’t something I’d forget anytime soon. I hadn’t come back to this ruined chapel for a guilt trip, but something about her words about repentance not being bought, but earned, itched under my skin. She didn’t know the half of it. I flicked the cigarette to the ground, grinding it under my heel, and stepped outside into the downpour. The rain drenched me to the bone as I jogged down the cracked cobblestone path. Ahead, her figure moved swiftly, her gray dress now plastered to her body. Although I couldn’t see anything on her face beyond those impossible to miss grey eyes, I could tell this nun would have a pretty face to go with that nice body. She was headed toward a cluster of half-collapsed buildings that looked as broken as this entire place. I found myself wondering what it’d feel like to press this sweet little nun against one of these collapsed building and drill the fuck out of her cute little cunt. Jesus, Nikolai! She is a nun, for God’s sake. “Hey!” She didn’t stop. “Stop running!” I barked, picking up my pace. Her head snapped around, and I saw her face twist into fury before she turned forward again. She didn’t want to talk. Too bad. I reached her within moments, grabbing her arm just as she stumbled on a loose stone. She whirled around, yanking herself free with surprising strength. “Let go of me!” she screamed, her voice cracking. I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Easy, Sister. I just want to talk.” “Talk?” “I'm sorry about the bad words I used earlier,” I said mockingly. “That was just the devil in my dick speaking.” “You’re the devil.” She said accusingly. “Men like you don’t talk. You destroy, you kill, you… you ruin lives.” I frowned. “Is this still about the… incident?” Her eyes blazed. “Incident? Is that what you call it?” She jabbed a finger into my chest, unafraid of the fact that I could snap her in two if I wanted. “You brought your dirty business here, and you left us to pick up the pieces. Do you even know what you did?” I didn’t answer. “You don’t, do you?” Her voice cracked, her anger unraveling into raw pain. “You don’t care about the scared children, the injured, the ones who died. Father Andrew… He was a good man, and you—” Her voice broke. “You turned this place into a war zone. You killed him.” “I didn’t pull the trigger,” I said quietly. “But it was your men!” she screamed, her face contorted with grief. “Your deal. Your orders! Your fault.” Her chest heaved as tears began streaming down her face, mixing with the rain. “Do you know what it’s like to lose everything? To have your world ripped apart because men like you don’t give a damn about human life?” I wanted to remind her that the world wasn’t fair, and that people like me didn’t get where we were by caring about the consequences. But something about the way she looked at me made the words catch in my throat. Suddenly, she collapsed to her knees, and following that were loud sobs. “Shit,” I muttered, raking a hand through my wet hair. I crouched down beside her, unsure of what the hell I was supposed to do. Comforting people wasn’t exactly in my skill set. “Get up,” I said gruffly. She didn’t move. I sighed and reached out hesitantly, patting her on the head like a child. She didn’t push me away. Instead, she leaned into me, her body trembling as she sobbed against my chest. “You done?” She didn’t answer. “Listen,” I said, my tone light. “I get it. You’re upset. But crying about it isn’t going to bring your priest back or fix this dump. My money can.” Her hands dropped, and she glared at me with tear-filled eyes. “You’re a monster.” I chuckled, the sound low and amused. “Yeah, I get that a lot.” She didn’t pull away. Her wet, shivering form pressed against me, and the warmth of her breath against my neck sent a jolt through me. It wasn’t the time or place, but I couldn’t stop the heat pooling in my body. “I hate you,” she whispered. “Join the club,” I replied, grinning. She shoved at my chest, but it was half-hearted, her strength sapped by her tears. She slumped forward instead, her head suddenly resting against my shoulder. “God, you’re exhausting,” I muttered, awkwardly patting her on the back. She tilted her head up, her tear-streaked face so close to mine that I could feel her breath. For a moment, I wondered what it would feel like to kiss her, to ruin her in the way men like me always ruined good things. Fuck, fuck, fuck. As if reading my unholy thoughts, her eyes widened, and she shoved me away suddenly, scrambling to her feet. “No,” she said, shaking her head, her voice trembling. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” She trailed off, hugging her arms around herself as if she could hold herself together. “Shouldn’t have what?” I asked, rising slowly. Her cheeks flushed crimson. “Nothing. I just… I need to go.” She turned away, muttering, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so stupid…” I caught her arm, stopping her. “Wait.” She flinched but didn’t pull away. “Don’t apologize,” I said, surprising even myself with the softness of my voice. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Her silver eyes met mine, filled with confusion and something else—something fragile. I released her arm and stepped back, giving her space. “You’re right,” I said after a moment. “About all of it.” She blinked, startled. “But,” I added, my voice hardening, “the world doesn’t care about right and wrong, Sister. And it sure as hell doesn’t care about you or me.” She frowned. “What are you saying?” “Let me make it up to you.” I said very casually. “I’ve got a bunch of other buildings just like this one lying around unused in Albany. I’ll be there for the next three months, setting up a new office. While I’m at it, I could fix this place up for you, your nuns, and the kids. Make it something halfway respectable… or at least not a complete dump.” I watched her carefully, that little spark in her eyes, the one that was equal parts annoyance and interest. It was amusing how she could pretend like I wasn’t offering her something she clearly needed. “What I’m saying is, you could all move to one of those houses.” Her jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought she was going to yell at me again. But instead, she turned and walked away, her figure disappearing into the rain. “I’ll be waiting for a response before 6PM tomorrow!” I called after her, too smug to stop myself. She didn’t dignify that with a response. I stood there, the cold seeping into my bones, and wondered why the hell I felt like I’d just lost a battle I didn’t even know I was fighting. “That, Nikolai, is because you’re going to have to fuck that nun.” And, yeah. I would.Chapter 2⟿❂⟾SYLVIA⟿❂⟾If sneaking into the shelter without being caught were an Olympic sport, I’d take gold. Well, maybe bronze.Okay, lying is a sin. I’d probably trip over my own feet, crash into a nun, and get excommunicated on the spot.“Just a few more steps,” I whispered to myself, my heart pounding louder than the damn church bells on Sunday morning.My left sock betrayed me by sliding on the smooth floor. “Shit!” I hissed, then clamped a hand over my mouth. A nun isn’t supposed to cuss!I was going to hell. Straight to hell. Not even purgatory was going to bother with me at this rate.I shuffled forward, cringing with every creak and groan the ancient staircase made under my weight. I could already imagine Mother Beatrice’s face if she caught me, that withering glare that could peel paint off walls.Halfway up, the sound of footsteps froze me in place. Oh no. Ohhh no.I turned so slowly I could hear my neck creak. And there she was. Mother Beatrice, in all her holy wrath,
𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎, 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 Thank you for choosing Nikolai’s Tainted Nun. This is the third installment of the Region Mafia Men series, but don’t worry—this book is a standalone. You can dive in without having to read Books 1 and 2, as each installment explores a different couple, plot, and setting. However, if you’d like to learn more about some recurring characters, like Russel, Vincenzo, and their wives, feel free to check out the first two installments—they’re standalone books as well. 𝓗𝓞𝓝𝓔𝓢𝓣 𝓡𝓔𝓠𝓤𝓔𝓢𝓣 Love, if you enjoy this book, please drop a comment on each chapter to share your thoughts. Your feedback means the world to me. As a way of supporting me, don’t forget to vote for the book and leave a 5-star rating on the front page. Your support makes all the difference! 𝓦𝓐𝓡𝓝𝓘𝓝𝓖 I must warn you—this is a dark romance. As the name suggests, this book explores intense themes, some of which may challenge your morals or comfort zone. If you’re up for the
Chapter 3 ⟿❂⟾ Nikolai ⟿❂⟾ The rain had slowed by the time I made it home, but the cold clung to my skin like an unwelcome memory. Drenched, I peeled off my coat and tossed it onto the armchair near the window, watching as water pooled around its edges. The housekeeper was going to lose her shit over this. The place was dead quiet, except for the occasional snort from Fur, my dog, or rather, my freeloading furry roommate. He wasn’t a watchdog; he was a sleep-dog. The lazy bastard would only move if food or belly rubs were involved. I’d dragged his ass here because, frankly, I didn’t trust the housekeeper at the main house. That woman would probably ‘accidentally’ feed him antifreeze and claim it was Gatorade. I looked over at him, sprawled on the couch like some sort of aristocrat. “You’re not even a real dog, are you? I bet if someone broke in, you’d hand them the good silver and wag your tail on their way out.” He snorted again. I sighed. This place wasn’t much,
Chapter 4⟿❂⟾Sylvia⟿❂⟾If there’s one thing I’ve never quite nailed, it’s the art of playing a demure, well-mannered nun in the making. I think a perfect term for Sister Sylvia would be bold disaster, rather than the conventional bashful duchess aura everyone wears around here. That must be why Sister Agnes never liked me, and perhaps why Mother Beatrice watches me like a hawk.Either that, or the fact that I showed up in her shelter like Jane Doe one rainy night, shivering like a hooker in church, wide-eyed and bleeding, with no memory of my own name. Who wouldn’t find that suspicious? Certainly not Agnes.“We need to call the gentleman.”I folded my arms tightly and stared at Mother Beatrice like she had just suggested we start laundering money for the mafia. For someone who had spent years drilling discipline into people, she had an unsettling way of being too trusting.“Respectfully, I think that’s a terrible idea,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible. “I understand
Chapter 5 ⟿❂⟾ Nikolai ⟿❂⟾ It was 38 minutes past 5p.m and she hadn’t called. I was checking my fucking watch like a fool. I leaned against the open door of the black SUV, my gaze flicking from the warehouse to the men inside. This deal should have been wrapped by now, but everything about tonight felt slower than usual, maybe because I wasn’t in the mood for patience. Luigi stood to my left, flicking his lighter open and closed, the metallic snick echoing between us grated so hard on my fucking nerves. Manuel stood a few feet away, cigarette dangling from his lips as he muttered something to another guy beside him. Across from them, our ‘business partners’ for the evening, Bruno Santini and his men were huddled around the crates, whispering like schoolgirls. Santini was short, greasy, and about as trustworthy as a snake in a crib. His boys were restless as a virgin on her wedding night, their fingers twitching toward their weapons every few minutes. I didn’t trust
Chapter 6 ⟿❂⟾ Sylvia ⟿❂⟾ He didn’t leave a card. No address. No way to reach him. For a man who seemed to have all the answers in the palm of his hands, Nikolai had simply disappeared like a ghost, leaving me to stew in my own desperation. And I was desperate. We all were. Mother Beatrice did her best, pleading with the parishioners to keep the shelter open, but for an NGO housing only women and children, generating no revenue—there was only so much the church could do. The shelter was shutting down. There was no denying it anymore. We were quite literally out of options. “Father Andrew would have known what to do,” I’d heard the Sisters whisper this morning, voices low but edged with frustration. For the three days it took me to arrive at this terrible decision, I felt absolutely miserable. Because there was something I could do. And that truth felt like a noose tightening around my throat. Agnes had made sure everyone knew. “A certain man is willing to help us, but can yo
Chapter 7⟿❂⟾Sylvia⟿❂⟾Two hours.That was how long I sat there, curled up on the broken, hard wooden pew, shivering, waiting for a man who was never going to show up.Somewhere between the cold seeping into my bones and the gnawing ache in my chest, I’d started crying without even realizing it. Silent, stupid tears that I wiped away angrily, but they just kept falling, carving hot trails down my cheeks.I didn’t even know why.Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the helplessness clawing at my insides.Or maybe it was the terrifying realization that I might have just raised everyone’s hopes for nothing.Because what if it wasn’t Nikolai?What if the anonymous donor who had promised to help the shelter wasn’t him at all?What if I had made them believe, led them on, promised them, that someone powerful was going to step in and save us, only for it to all be a big fat lie?What if Mother Beatrice had looked at me with those hopeful eyes, had prayed over us, believing that help h
Chapter 8 ⟿❂⟾ Nikolai ⟿❂⟾ A nun that reads erotica. Erotic romance novels, to be precise. Why do I find that so fucking spicy? I let my thumb skim over the pages, my gaze flicking between the words and the trembling woman standing by the door, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in outrage, and her eyes burning with a mix of humiliation and fury. Oh, she was pissed. It should’ve amused me more than it did, but the fire in her eyes barely distracted me from the fact that she was soaked, shivering, and—fuck me—she had been crying. Crying. The knowledge made something in my chest tighten in a way I didn’t like. I had been sitting here for the past two hours, waiting, my patience thinning, my mind wandering to places it had no business going. At first, I was mildly annoyed. She was late. A minor offense. Then an hour passed, and I started to wonder. Another thirty minutes, and irritation settled deep in my ribs. Another thirty, and my thoughts turned dark. Has she been out
Chapter 73⟿❂⟾Nikolai⟿❂⟾I woke before dawn, as I always did. Years of discipline had trained my body to need only five hours of sleep, and even with Sylvia warm against me, that hadn't changed.What had changed was my reluctance to leave the bed.She was curled against me like a cat, one hand splayed across my chest, her breathing deep and even. My t-shirt had ridden up during the night, exposing the curve of her hip and the length of her legs. In sleep, her face held none of the guarded wariness that sometimes crept into her expression when she thought I wasn't looking. My fingers caressed her back until they reached her neck, where the mark there burned against her skin like a brand. A crescent moon. The only thing I was very sure of right now after filtering the whole jargon of religious bullshit Luigi gathered was the fact that it was certainly not a birthmark, but a scar—deliberately placed. I allowed myself five more minutes of this strange peace before carefully extract
Chapter 72 ⟿❂⟾ Nikolai ⟿❂⟾ There was something surreal about watching her sleep against my shoulder. After the raw, primal sex in the back of my car, the way she'd given herself to me completely, without reservation, she now looked impossibly innocent again. Her face relaxed in slumber, she could have been a painting of a sleeping angel, if not for the purple marks blooming on her throat and the disheveled state of her hair. The contradiction she embodied continued to fascinate me. Virgin and temptress. Innocent and wanton. Sacred and profane. I'd had countless women over the years, but none had captivated me the way she did, none had made me break my own rules. Like tonight, with the condom. I ran a hand over my face, suppressing a groan. What the hell had I been thinking? I prided myself on control, on discipline, on never taking unnecessary risks. Yet one pleading look from those doe eyes, and I'd thrown caution to the wind. She stirred against me, mumbling something inco
Chapter 71 ⟿❂⟾ Sylvia ⟿❂⟾ His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my dress higher until it bunched around my waist. His fingers traced the edges of my panties—new ones he'd insisted I put on before leaving the club. He’d produced them from his jacket pocket and stuffed the one I had before in there, almost like he'd planned for everything. "Here?" he asked, though I could tell from the roughness in his voice that he was already convinced. "Here," I confirmed, reaching between us to fumble with his buttons. "Right now." He reached into his pocket and frowned when he came up empty. "I don't have another condom." I continued working on his buttons, undeterred. "We don't need one." His hands caught mine, stilling them. "Yes, we do." "But you promised," I reminded him. "After our first time, you said we won’t need a condom the next time." "Someday," he emphasized. "Not tonight, not in the back of a car." I pouted, knowing it was childish but unable to help myself. "Why not? I'm not
Chapter 70 ⟿❂⟾ Sylvia ⟿❂⟾ Nikolai's arm was a steady presence around my waist as he guarded me outside the club. The stars above seemed to swim in my vision, not from intoxication but from the lingering high of what I'd just experienced. Behind us, Manuel and another of Nikolai’s men followed at a respectful distance. I couldn't meet their eyes. Did they know where we'd been? What we'd done? Of course they did. The thought sent a rush of embarrassment through me. "Are you alright?" Nikolai enquired. I nodded, then reconsidered. "I don't know." He studied my face, concern etching lines around his eyes. "Regrets?" "No," I answered quickly, surprising myself with my conviction. "Not regrets. Just...thinking." Our ride waited at the curb, Nikolai went round to open the door for me. As we slid into the back seat, the privacy partition was already raised—a small mercy I was grateful for. Once the door closed, sealing us into our private cocoon, I felt the first tremors begin in m
Chapter 69 ⟿❂⟾ Sylvia ⟿❂⟾ Without a word, he took my hand and pulled me to my feet, his grip firm but not painful. "Fix your dress," he ordered quietly. I did as he commanded, sliding the zipper back up just enough to keep the fabric in place, though it remained looser than before. The warmth of his hand radiated through the small of my back as he guided me away from the main dance floor. We moved past the VIP section, deeper into the club through a corridor I hadn't noticed before. Two of his security men fell in behind us, maintaining a respectful distance. Nikolai nodded to a bouncer stationed before an unmarked black door, who immediately stepped aside. "Are you feeling tipsy?" Nikolai asked, his voice was etched with concern. I turned to look at him, holding his gaze. "I'm not high, I’m horny." Something dangerous flickered in his eyes. "God damn it, Sylvia. You’ve really fallen from grace.” Nikolai nodded once to his security team, probably telling them to
Chapter 68 ⟿❂⟾ Sylvia ⟿❂⟾ "What are you thinking about?" Nikolai asked, noticing my distant gaze as we drove through the country side. "St. Catherine's," I admitted. "You miss it?" "Parts of it," I said honestly. His expression turned serious. "I suspected.” “It’s just funny how everything’s suddenly changed.” “I don’t feel guilty and I want you to never feel bad.” He said. “The sisters at St. Catherine's were given specific instructions about your care. I've been trying to figure out why." "Do you think it has something to do with who I might be?" Nikolai considered his words carefully. "I think it's connected, yes. But I don't want to burden you with theories today. Today is about..." he paused, searching for the right words. "Normal life?" I suggested with a small smile. "As normal as possible," he agreed. "Speaking of which, if you want to talk to Maeve, I can arrange it." My heart leapt. "Really? You would do that?" "Of course. She's been worried about you. I spok
Chapter 67 ⟿❂⟾ Sylvia ⟿❂⟾ "Yes, a complete makeover. Mr. Gianni's instructions." The woman entered, wheeling in a trolley loaded with beauty supplies. "I'm Marcella, by the way. I handle styling for all of Mr. Gianni's special guests." I eyed the intimidating array of products and tools. "I've never had a makeover before." Marcella's eyes lit up. "Never? Then this will be extra special." She gestured to the bathroom. "Let's start with your hair, shall we?" I followed her reluctantly. At the convent, beauty routines were simple affairs; minimal soap, cold water, and Sister Margaret’s occasional trims. In the spacious bathroom, Marcella directed me to sit on a cushioned chair she'd positioned by the sink. "Lean back, let me wash your hair properly." As she worked the shampoo into my scalp with practiced fingers, I closed my eyes, surprised by how soothing it felt. The warm water and gentle massage were nothing like Sister Margaret’s efficient ministrations. "Your hai
Chapter 66 ⟿❂⟾ Sylvia ⟿❂⟾ I must have fallen asleep eventually, because I woke to sunlight streaming through the windows and the sound of activity in the house below. I sat up, disoriented for a moment before the events of the night before came rushing back. Nikolai. The interrupted 'therapy'. The conversation we had. The figure I thought I'd seen in the trees. The conversation at dinner. A knock at the door made me jump. "Miss Sylvia?" a woman's voice called. "Mr. Gianni asked me to bring you breakfast and some fresh clothes." I wrapped myself in the robe I was still wearing from last night and opened the door to find one of the household staff with a tray of food and a garment bag draped over her arm. "Thank you," I said, stepping aside to let her in. "Is Nikolai—Mr. Gianni—around?" "He had to step out early this morning," she explained, setting the tray on a small table by the window. "He asked me to tell you he'll be back by noon and that you're to stay in the
Chapter 65 ⟿❂⟾ Sylvia ⟿❂⟾ Nikolai's hand moved to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangling in my damp hair. "That's why you wanted to take your vows so badly, isn't it? To make the mask permanent." His insight caught me off guard. No one had ever understood that part of me before. "Yes," I admitted softly. "If I belonged to God, to the Church, then it wouldn't matter who I was before. I could just be Sister Sylvia for the rest of my life." "And now?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Do you still want that?" I closed my eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand on my neck, the gentleness of his touch that belied the dangerous man I knew him to be. "I don't know anymore. Everything is different now." "Because of what's happening with the convent?" "Because of you," I corrected, opening my eyes to meet his gaze. "You make me want things I shouldn't. You make me question everything I thought I knew." He leaned closer, his breath warm against my lips. "Is that a