The Russian Fighter (Mafia Men #1)

His Warning

Chapter 2

Edited

For the next two periods I was paranoid with thoughts of an angry Russian and blazing honeysuckle irises, pent up in the dread knotting my insides that he'd jump out of the shadows, where he was lurking for the moment to rise so he could strangle me. More than once my teachers asked me to pay attention, which before him, was never a problem.

My mind stayed preoccupied until my Photography class. It was the one elective I embraced as a track record on my application for college. Over the years it become a passion since I was a little girl, watching my father as he focused on the colorful, as well as the dark, parts of the world. He'd been a man of Digital Arts, but lost his way.

As his daughter I inherited the same passion, and it was my insurance in helping Papa pay off Boris. For instance, me and my cousins worked night and day to collect money by pickpocket, the natural selection of a thief that targeted and schemed cheating husbands, entrepreneurs, and billionaires.

This all started because my father became a fighter as a young man. He ran away from home and was living on the streets, fighting for money to which he became sponsored by a very powerful man of the four most dangerous families of the Bratva: The Russian Brotherhood.

Every Mafia family has a name.

He became a member in a illegal fighting ring, hidden in a underground club owned by Boris himself. The Vault. My father wanted out, nearly cost him his life in the process. We escaped for years from St. Petersburg, but Boris found us.

"Hey cuz," Nina said as she sat down beside me. We both learned at a young age the cruel secrets of a very dangerous world - me more than anyone.

"Hey. Are we still going to work after school?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "Uncle Pavel wants us home straight after school. Your dad told Levin it was important."

I frowned. That was never good. I learned that when my father, once before, gave us tragic news about my boyfriend, Greg.

Mr. Mandarin walked in before I could reply and asked us to take our seats, politely. Setting down a stack of folders he faced the class. "I would like to address to you all about a few changes in pace this semester. We have two new students..."

Oh no.

"I would like you to give them a warm welcome to the classroom."

I gripped the edge of my seat, tightly. My knuckles gone white, the pressure causing a numbness in my palms.

"This is Aleksandr...." Please, no. "And Maksimillian Nikolaev. Brothers from Siberia, Russia."

As always, Lady Luck abandoned me, bringing my worst nightmare to life. This was the fifth class we had together.

The two stepped into the room, looking mighty confident seeing as every girl in the room was drooling - figuratively speaking. As Maksimillian set his sights around the room, I braced myself as his whiskey brown eyes fell upon me. A slow grin curved his pretty mouth.

"You may have a seat behind those two lovely ladies towards the back. I'll be with you in a moment." Mr. Mandarin had no clue.

Aleksandr and Maksimillian took their seats behind us. The double seated desks were set in rows, spaced within five feet of each other, and yet as I became aware of them - I became aware of a pair of eyes at my back.

Nina leaned toward me discreetly, a palm concealing half her face. "Hottie staring at you, six o'clock," she whispered to me.

I rolled my eyes and mouthed to her, "I don't care."