Mafia's Captive |(His Captive)|✓

Chapter 14

I never had a toy to play with as a kid. I have the faintest memory of having a dirty bunny with me. I had seen ads of Barbie dolls that used to make me gag at their pink colours, wide blue eyes, and that shiny blonde hair. It is expected from a boy to not like a Barbie doll. Now that I think of it. I think the origin of my hatred runs deeper than the repulse of watching them on TV for an entire week because the faulty cable line stuck after being broken into two after a fit rage between my uncle and his friends. The stupid movie actually distracted me from feeling colder than I was in the harsh Russian winter.

Those big blue eyes, shiny blonde hair, long legs. Her clothes are not pink anymore, but she doesn't dress like a mafia woman either. She likes colors. I associate Olga Mikhailov as a matryoshka doll she loves so fucking much. Running my fingers through the wooden doll, I stride down the hallways to my father's mansion.

She wouldn't dare slap me now. Ruslantsked upon noticing my petty act of defiance. I flick my finger over the smallest one at the edge of the table. It reeled back then came to its spot, like a cat that always lands on her feet. Like my mother, this Russian doll has a strong base, layers, layers of characters, and a hidden agenda behind each one.

I had made Ruslan have a talk with our mother to gaslight her into inviting us for lunch so I could dig into our history with the Camorra. The woman would give the world to her younger child while watching me starve. She made the traditional Russian lunch, and I felt a little remorse for playing her like this. But we had never been close. I had barely met my mother after coming back to America. Neither did she try or feel any guilt. Her love was only showered over Ruslan, who spent his summer in New York and most of his holidays when he would come back from the boarding school.

For her, I was like her son's best friend who often tagged along. If it weren't for the slight resemblance in our faces, I would have been convinced she was my stepmother.

"Why didn't you bring Gaia with you?" Mom asked me between our meals, having a tiny sip of her champagne, watching me from behind the rims of the glass. What the fuck happened to eating in silence?

Dad gave her a hard look. I know they had planned this to ask me about Gaia. Dad has maintained his distance. But no living human being can deprive themselves of good gossip.

"I didn't know I could bring a plus one." I say casually, between chewing.

"She is going to be our daughter-in-law soon. Of course, she could come." She spoke sweetly, looking at my father for a nod of approval. At that moment, I fucking cringed. She has always been like this and I wanted a woman like her who would obey me and love her children like she does Ruslan. I want Gaia to stand beside me, not follow me like a lost puppy.

"Is she behaving?" My father groans, pinning me with an icy look.

"Yes." I answer in a clipped tone. It was a mistake to show my annoyance. Even my mother could notice that. And that obedient bitch sucked a sharp inhale to ensure my father noticed and did something about it. Ruslan quickly chimed in.