The Runaway

Chapter 1.

Dianna Chekhov

I've been laying in bed for more than 20 minutes enjoying the warmth of my husband and the new morning sun beaming from the window. I'm too comfortable to move and yet I know I should start the day.

I sigh and kiss my sleeping husband on the cheek, prepared to get up. But when I'm halfway off the bed he snatches my waist and pulls me back.

"Where are you going?" He asks. His accent is thick, especially this early in the morning. I on the other hand, am solely American.

"I'm going to wake up the kids." I laugh and swat his caressing hands away.

He pecks me on the lips, "They are old, they can get up by themselves." He groans flopping back down on his back. His bare chest and tattoos littered everywhere make me pause.

But I shake out of it and get out of the bed before he notices. "Dianna my love, get back here."

I laugh knowing how un-serious this man is and grab some pants and a long sleeve shirt to cover myself up a bit. He watches my every move along the way. "Now you're just teasing." He sighs.

"Come on." I command, "let's go wake them up." He grins because I know he can't help himself and he gets up to put on sweatpants and a shirt.

We head to my first son, Lucas bedroom first, he's already up and on the phone when we knock and enter. "I don't care if he says he'll get the money by next month, it's been a year."

I grab a hold of the tie he hasn't yet put on. "Just get me the fucking money." He yells one last time and hangs up the phone.

I reach forward and flick up his collar to settle the tie beneath it. "Trouble in the big chair?" I ask referring to his Fathers old position as the Boss. Now that he's over 30, he's taken on the role.

He scoffs, "they're all fucking morons." He rolls his neck but I grab his cheeks and squeeze them so his lips squish together.

"You're frustrated, but swearing and getting angry at others is not the answer, hm?" I kiss his cheek, "especially at your mother, good morning my darling." I let go of him and fix up the rest of his tie quickly.

His Father stands at the door, leaning against it without a care in the world, "Pops, a little help with the business would still be greatly helpful."

My husband laughs, "I am retired son."

Luca scoffs, "there's no such thing as "retired" in the mafia." He clears his throat, kisses my cheek and proceeds, "morning mama, sleep well?"

I grin cheekily, "just fine darling, go ask the chef to start preparing breakfast."

He nods and glares at his father as he walks by, Volkov just smirks at him as he passes.  "Be nice." I order them both.

They both straighten, "yes mama.", "yes my love." and they scramble out of the door. 

While Luca continues on downstairs, Volkov and I head to my second son, Gillian's room.  We knock and when we don't get an answer Volkov looks at me with a raised eyebrow. 

I slowly open the door and when it's fully opened I manage to actual take in the scene in front of me.  My messy son pulls on some pants and a young girl pulls on her dress.  Volkov immediately turns and looks away, what a loyal husband. 

Gill smiles shamefully, "Good morning Mama." I look at the girl who stands beside him, "this is Kristen."

"Hello." She says in a thick British accent.

"Hello." I say curiously, I jab my elbow into Volkovs hip, "she's decent and dressed."

He sighs and turns around to glare at his son and he puts his hands on his hips.  The tension is astronomical in this room right now.  "Okay." I clap my hands together. "Anyway, you're welcome to join us for breakfast Kristen.  Gill, put a sock on your door or something next time."

"Yes mama." He nods and kisses my cheek. Kristen follows him right by us and smiles shakily. He grabs her hand and kisses it tenderly as they head to the stairs.  I suspect that's not just a one night stand, my son is in love.

I laugh at Volkovs expression. "That fucking kid I swear." He grumbles and walks by me towards my third son, Lindens room.

We knock and head in when there is no answer, although it's easy to see the outline of his shape.  He's just a huge lump under the sheets.  I run over and jump on his bed, and I stroke his messy hair off of his head and ruffle my hand through the strands.

Eventually he groans and tiredly looks up at me.  "Let me sleep."

"No." I whisper, "why are you so tired? you're usually excited in the morning."

"Luca had me up almost the whole night keeping an eye on shipment.  "Kill on the spot." He says in a low voice mimicking his older brother.  "Guy thinks just cause I'm a sniper I'm made of steal."

Volkov comes over and places his hand on Lindens forehead.  "Your about to catch a cold."

"Fuck...." He groans tossing his head back.  Whenever his Father tells him or any of our children they should expect a cold, they know he's not joking, ever since they were little Volkov has always been able to tell.

Linden stands up off his bed and walks to his bathroom muttering about his stupid brother. 

I laugh and turn towards the door,  and when we're out in the hall Volkov saunters by me towards our daughters door.  Giddy as can fucking be.

"What happened to your groaning and whining, hm?" I ask.

He scoffs, "we all know I only came on this rendition for my baby girl." A smile lights up on his face as he knocks.  When she doesn't answer he opens the door very slowly. 

"малыш." He calls happily. But as soon as the door is wide open his smile drops, along with my heart. (Baby)