𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐞 || A Mafia Love Story

xi

Viktor slammed his foot down on the gas peddle, accelerating as he sped down the unpaved road. The storm outside was raging on, the rain pelting the windshield was making it a struggle to see the road ahead. Viktor reached behind him, sliding his hand into the back pocket of his slacks. His muscular arm, veiny and strong, bulged with each movement. His fingers closed around the phone, the smooth surface contrasting with the roughness of his hands. He pulled it out and held it for a moment staring at the reflective surface in his hand. His mind raced through thoughts and consequences as he debated whether to make the call. After a brief pause, he let out a short breath, "Fuck it." Flicking his thumb across the screen, he dialed the number.

"Zhenya." Viktor grunted in greeting, his impatience clear.

"Yes sir?" A deep voice sounded on the other line, his Russian accent thick in his words.

"I need information on a girl, Marlee Edwards, where she goes, who she sees, what she does."

"Get it done by tomorrow." Viktor commanded, not letting Zhenya respond.

"Understood Sir." Zhenya barely had time to answer before he was hung up on.

Viktor cringed at his own actions. He wondered why he couldn't bring himself to address her directly instead of resorting to this invasive and inappropriate behavior. He knew this wasn't the way to approach a woman, let alone earn her attention and affections.

He felt disgusted with himself and his behavior, aware that he would come off as nothing more than a perverted stalker. But no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, the man found himself overwhelmed by the powerful emotions he felt for the woman.

These feelings were unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, leaving him both confused and enchanted. Just the thought of the girl made him feel a strange flutter in his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite understand. All the foolish man knew was that he yearned for a mere glimpse of her, a single word from those sweet lips, and the beautiful sound that was her voice. The girl's voice was delicate and heavenly, each syllable coming out as soft as a whisper. Yet, her voice was laced with an uncertainty, each word she uttered containing a slight stutter as she struggled to get them out. Despite her hesitancy, there was an underlying sweetness and purity to her voice, like the sound of harp strings being gently plucked by an inexperienced hand.

Viktor ran a tense muscled arm through his hair attempting to ease whatever tension he could. The man couldn't afford to be distracted. It was no coincidence the Russo's debt had been stumbled upon. Someone pushed those records forward. Someone was trying to meddle in the relationship Viktor was trying so desperately to mend with the Russo's back in Italy.

Viktor wasn't sure who these people were or what their goal was but he could only assume it was to take the Russo's down during their moment of weakness. And their method of doing so would be to hit them where they're weak, the small sect of the Russo family currently residing in California.

~Somewhere in Russia~

The wind howled relentlessly, biting into the man's bronzed skin and whipping against his body as he trudged down the airstrip. The blizzard conditions were brutal, and every step was a struggle against the freezing, swirling gusts that threatened to knock him off balance. His teeth chattered from the cold, and he could barely see through the pelting snow that stung his face. The man stumbled blindly towards the warm car that awaited his arrival, struggling against the harsh wind and snow that so persistently tried to knock him over. Every step was a battle against the biting cold and swirling snow that obscured his vision. He staggered forward, his body hunched against the driving storm, until he finally reached the black Jeep. As he pulled open the door, he was met with a rush of warm air, like a haven from the frozen world outside. He slumped into the seat, exhausted and shivering.