Sinful Addiction

XL

ELENA CASSANO

        I was sixteen when I first ran away from home. I didn't have a single amount of money to my name, I didn't have means of transportation. All I had with me was my last name. And in the city of New York, it meant something to anyone who was buried deep in the money of the Cosa Nostra.

        I managed to run away for a day before one of Papà's soldiers found me at a bus stop and brought me back. I didn't know this but back then, Papà allowed it because he wanted me to realize I couldn't survive in the world without him.

        He wanted to rely on him completely and I always rejected the idea. Always opposed his every move out of spite and to piss him off.

        Even if it meant getting a few extra slaps as child or hit by a foreign object. And sometimes his fist.

        I didn't think I would ever know what being content—even for a small amount of time—felt like until I found myself nestled between a hard, warm body and the pillow.

        The sound of heavy, masculine breathing falling down my skin like raindrops, an arm softly rubbing my stomach. The morning after filled with the smell of roasted coffee beans and morning kisses. Hot Russian groans and words murmured inside my ear and dark swirls of tattoos inscribed in Russian.

        And somehow everything went to shit. I knew nothing would ever be the same again but I still did it.

        I smiled with a gloomy heart and wicked plans, blowing kisses and flushed cheeks till I could no longer hear his footsteps through the hallway.

        He told me to stay. I wanted to. I did but it came with a grace period. He begged me to be with him. With those icy blue eyes boring into mine and soft kisses on my chin, he begged. My Russian mobster.

        And I would stay, I promised myself no more running until everything eventually I had been running away from caught up with me. My Papà's text. The bounty on my head, the price of being with him. He wanted me, I wanted him as well but the consequences... knowing my Papà would come for my sister as a way to punish me.

        I should have told him, but it was easier to hide.

       And that was exactly what I did. I ran like the fucking coward I was but even a coward had to protect their heart, didn't they? Even if their heart was in the shape and form of a Russian assassin.

| - |

     I woke up like all the other times I usually did at this time of the night. Clutched my chest through the sheer fabric of my t-shirt like something would threaten to pick me up and whisk me away into the night.

        The light sheen of sweat dusted my face wet. My eyes snapped wide open as I registered the sound of little squeaks which came from the mouse rattling across the carpet.

        I glanced over at the clock on the wall. 12:30 a.m. A loud sigh escaped my mouth . The third time this week. For some reason I couldn't sleep through the morning. Perhaps it was because I wasn't used to the bed. Or the motel.

   I slipped out of the bed, got dressed in black jeans and a black oversized hoodie. And at the same time, I was consciously missing my dresses. I wasn't one for jeans, but I had to learn to adapt over the past months.

        I watched my reflection in the mirror, gathering the red strands of hair and tied it into a high bun.

        My lips curled in distaste at the sight of my outfit, but I quickly covered my head with a black beanie to prevent examining any further.