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

Chapter 50

HAH y'all thought the story was over... :) sorry it's been so long. Keep messaging me, I get bored, I promise I'll try to respond!

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"I still don't get why we're leaving."

Sinisters iced eyes flashed me an irritated glare, "because, Calla, we just threatened to kill the French Mafia bosses family, and refused to negotiate with them."

I crossed my arms in front of me, "who gives a fuck?"

He was throwing our bags together, "I do, this is their territory. I had thought they were back in France, that's the only reason we came here."

"But I don-"

"We're leaving, Calla. That's final."

I pouted, I definitely didn't want to leave, once we went back to the compound, things would go back to complete chaos. I wanted to be on vacation forever.

"You know, this whole dominant fuckery you got going on is kinda turning me on."

He glanced at me, his eyes dimmed, I wasn't actually as horny as usual, but I definitely loved sex with him, and if we fucked, then yay more vacation.

He shook his head, "nyet, calla. We have to leave." (No).

Son of a bitch.

"Hey shithead, the jet just touched down, we gotta go."  The voice of Afanas flooded through my ears and I groaned,  why the fuck does he always show up?

He walked in the room, wearing a white Gucci collard shirt, his dark hair slicked back. He wore a solid gold watch, his face freshly shaven. Sometimes I forget how rich these Mafia fucks really are.

He grins at me when he walks in, "how's your honeymoon going?"

"Zatknis'." (Shut up).

He pulled out a fat joint from his pocket, lighting it up, and blowing a cloud at my face.

"You're kinda feisty, babygirl." He smiled.

Sinister walked back into the room, dressed in a black Louis Vuitton dress shirt, a flashy Rolex watch on his wrist, his shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal his Mafia tattoos that snaked around his arms, the collar of his shirt was pulled down, showing off more tattoos around his neck. Rings lined his fingers, each rimmed with Soviet insignias.

I frowned as I looked at the both of them, "okay I understand Afanas being an extra bitch, but Sinister why are you being all flashy with the Mafia?"

Sinister began pulling clothes out of my bag for me to wear, "because we're in French Mafia territory, we can't have them not knowing who we are."

Why. Are. They. So. Petty.

I glanced at the outfit Sinister laid out for me. Ripped jean short-shorts and a black crop top.

Horny fuckhead.

"Why can't I wear my hoodie?" I pouted.

"Oh, you mean my sweatshirt that you destroyed with black sharpie, writing 'fuck you' on it? Yeah, no. You're not wearing that."

I walked into the bathroom, pulling on the clothes, and running a comb through my hair. I couldn't believe that I had gone from being sold, to becoming apart of the Russian Mafia. I was married to the Russian mob boss, and I loved him. It's funny how things change, but sometimes you just have to accept that certain things will never go back to the way they used to be.