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

Chapter 35

Callas POV:

"Stop."

I grinned and gave him a thumbs up.

You see, apparently I'm not "trustworthy" because I'm a "sneaky little suka" that enjoys "being a pain in my ass."

Sinister had round the clock bodyguards posted outside my door.

I like this one though, he seems to be my night watch, he switches out with another guard every night at 8, and gets replaced at 10am.

He's lean, not exactly muscular in the way you'd think a body guard would be, he has Carmel hair and speckled grey eyes. I wanna poke his eyes.

I enjoy bothering him. I don't know his name yet, but I'm currently trying to find out.

"Poke."

"Stop."

I raise my finger, "poke"

His eyes flicker down to me, "stop. Go back in your room."

"I will if you tell me your name." I flashed him a flirty smile, but to no avail, the lil fucker kept his gaze forward.

"I'm just gonna make up a name for you, and trust me it's not gonna be a good one, I'm alone 98% of the day and I have plenty of time to come up with nick names."

I watched his strong jaw clench, yay go me I was bothering him.

"Miss Levkin, please go back in your room." His voice was tense, I glanced at the gun strapped across his chest.

Ooh.

I raised my hand to poke the gun when he suddenly grabbed my wrist, his cold hands wrapped around mine.

"Do not touch my gun, Miss Levkin."

"Mom."

His eyebrows flew up, this time he looked directly at me, his grey eyes creasing as he frowned at my new nick name.

"What did you just call me?"

"Mama, mom, mommy, mother, birth giver..." I grinned at him "creator."

His face was stone, expressionless, he looked confused out of his mind, and honestly in my defense I was just bored as fuck.

I haven't seen Sinister in four days, I've literally been locked in my room, I hadn't spoken to Brie, I didn't even know if she was alive. The only people I had to talk to were these body guards.

He released my wrists, pulling out a walkie talkie, speaking rapid Russian into the receiver.

Basically he said; "Sinister, I'm going crazy man. Please, let me switch out with someone, anyone. I'm literally going to kill myself."

There was no response.

I frowned, clearing my throat "excuse me? Mom? Yeah, I speak Russian."

He slowly lowered the walkie, his face covered with annoyance.

I pouted, pulling the hood over my oversized sweatshirt that said "Fuck You"

It was actually one of Sinisters plain white sweatshirts, but I was feeling creative and wrote "fuck you" in sharpie