I Am Not A Prostitute: Mafia Romance (18+ Only)

Chapter 5

After an hour of driving, I felt someone leaning over me and taking off the bag that was over my head.

Afanas sat, unsmiling, in the seat in front of me.

Two-9-millimeter pistols were shoved into his jeans as it was the most casual thing in the world.

I tried to look out the tinted window, but all I could see was shapes and outlines of the road as we drove.

I turned my gaze to Afanas.

He could have been incredibly good looking...you know, if he wasn't exactly who he was.

Dark eyes and dark hair, with a tall, indestructible build.

My eyes kept glancing to his tattoo.

"You are a lie, and I am the truth..." I mumbled softly, repeating the Russian words his tattoo read.

His eyes darted towards me, "what did you just say?"

I leaned back in my seat stiffly, "n-nothing."

He leaned forward, "it was fucking something. What did you just say?"

I shook my head, "it's just your t-tattoo." I motioned towards his neck.

His hand went to his neck and he gently touched it.

"It's in Russian. How did you know what it said?"

I shook my head, FUCKFUCKFUCK. Why can't I EVER just keep my goddamn mouth fucking shut?

I opened my mouth, but no explanation came out.

He sat forward and his face came close to mine.

"Have you understood everything that we have been saying? Do you speak Russian?"

There was absolutely no way out of this.

"I..uh.." I couldn't find anything to say.

"ty govorish' na russkom yazyke?" (Do you speak Russian?)

My lip quivered and I nodded.

He cursed under his breath.

"You're not a spy, right?" He asked, his eyes were deadly.

I shook my head, "no no no, I swear."

"If you're a spy I will fucking slit your throat right now. I'd be doing Velkov a favor."

I let out a silent sob and lowered my head.

"Hey, hey." He grabbed my chin, and I felt his nails cut into my skin. "You tell no one, okay? Do you fucking hear me? They will kill you. If they find out, they'll think you're a spy, or someone sent to kill the boss."

"W-why do you care?" I asked, and winced as
I felt his nails dig into me.

"I don't." He muttered as he pushed off of me, and my head hit into the window.

"Y-You won't tell anyone?" I asked quietly.

"Net. I won't."

I swallowed down my tears, and I felt relief flooding through me.

"You don't look like a New Yorker." He muttered, "you don't even fucking talk like one. Work on your accent, when you cry, your Russian accent comes out, and stop crying. It's annoying as hell."

I nodded and set my jaw to keep it from quivering.

"Why are you even in America?" He asked. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, his hand brushing against his pistols.

"A few years back. My parents were killed in a shooting, and I..." I shrugged "I needed to get away."

He said nothing , no condolences, no questions.

"Do you know the answer?" I asked "to the riddle"

"Of course I fucking do. Its permanently tattooed on my goddamn neck" he shook his head, his eyes still closed "do you?"

I think I did, I was thinking about it a lot.

"I think it's life and death. Life is a beautiful lie that everyone lives and chooses to believe, and death is the evil truth that people refuse accept.
Death is the only truth in this world, and people live believing in life to cope with the raw truth of death." I shrugged.

I didn't know if it was right, but it was the only thing that made sense.

I looked back to Afanas to see his eyes open and staring at me. The second I looked at him, they closed, but the tips of his lips pointed ever so slightly up. An action that most people wouldn't notice. But I did, and this half-smile was enough to know I was right.

-------------------------------------------------------

A few hours later the car fell to a stop, and the doors flew open.

Afanas looked at me, an understanding fell between us, a secret.

Men surrounded the car and I felt myself being pulled out.

My heels hit the concrete and I felt myself stumble back.

I hit into something hard, like a fucking wall, and my heels slipped out from under me.

I fell to the ground and stiffened when I looked at the shadow of the wall.

Not a wall. A man.

My hands shook and I slowly turned my head until I was looking into the eyes of Satan himself.