*Mafia boss and his lost love*
Alessa Romanov had endured a difficult childhood. Kidnapped at two years old, she had no memory of her biological family and spent fifteen years in captivity. It wasn't until her stepfather's death that she was finally...
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I walked into the house and found my brothers there. I brushed past them, fighting the urge to say something. They didn't deserve to be called my brothers.
I heard Lorenzo calling me downstairs for dinner. I took a deep breath, reminding myself not to lose control. I mentally gave myself a pep talk and made my way downstairs to join them.
"Don't blow up," I repeated in my head like a mantra as I sat down between Damon and Carter.
Fucking idiots.
I ate my food in silence, trying to maintain my composure. But then Damon decided to interrupt my peace.
"Hey Al, wanna go out tomorrow?" he asked, and I couldn't help but mentally scoff at his audacity.
What? Need more information on my supposed affiliation with the Russians?
"Sorry, I'm going to Zoey's house. We're having a sleepover," I replied to him emotionlessly, making it clear that I had no interest in his invitation.
"I guess maybe next time," he said, clearly taken aback by my lack of enthusiasm. I simply nodded and continued eating my food, refusing to engage further.
They tried to make conversation, but I responded with minimum answers, making it clear that I didn't want to talk. Thankfully, they got the hint and dropped the attempts.
Thank the fucking lord, or else I would've said something I'd regret.
I retreated to my room and cried silently. But then I reminded myself that they didn't deserve my tears. Yes, they hurt me, but I had to stay strong. With that thought in mind, I drifted off to sleep,
He dragged me to the back of the changing rooms, his fingers digging into my arms like vise grips. The pain shot through me, but I clenched my jaw, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing me break.
"You better not disappoint me, you worthless bitch," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. His eyes bore into mine, full of malice and cruelty.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "I won't," I managed to whisper, my voice barely audible.
He chuckled darkly, tightening his grip. "Oh, you better. I'm tired of your pathetic excuses. You're nothing but a worthless piece of trash. If you screw this up, it's straight back to those Russians, and they won't be as forgiving as I am."
The mention of the Russians sent a wave of terror crashing over me. I had witnessed their brutality firsthand, and the thought of being at their mercy again made my stomach churn. I knew I had to push through the fear and prove myself, no matter what.
Swallowing hard, I tried to steady my trembling voice. "I... I'll do my best. I promise."
His grip relaxed slightly, but the fire in his eyes didn't waver. "Your best better be damn good, or I'll make sure you regret it."
