The Russian Fighter (Mafia Men #1)

The Godfather

Chapter 6

Edited

In a week's time the entire student body was buzzing with the upcoming game at St. Paul High, a private, coeducational school owned by some Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Los Angeles. They were a good team, but from perception on the stands, our team held a better defense than theirs. It's what got us to the championship last year.

That and Erik was the best quarterback.

The thought of him brings me to the slight hiccup in our pairing recently. After the almost showdown between Erik and Maksimillian gossip was hot all over school, tangling from one rumor to another in a rope of lies.

Coming to school I received dirty looks. Most from the cheer squad and Erik's jockey peers. I tried talking to him, but he rebuked me and said he needed to practice with his "buddies" for the game this Friday.

Like now.

I wanted to start a conversation, and he went out of his own way to continue with texting on his phone. Many times during this week he chose to sit with his cousin for lunch, gawfing with him and Aleksandr like he hadn't wanted to punch Maksimillian in the face a week ago.

Fortunately for me it produced time to arrange the portfolio Boris wanted from a late gathering with his family. Last Friday after Maksimillian left he paid a visit asking of my services for his first daughter's wedding to one of the oldest son's of the Costa Nostra, aka the Sicilian Mafia in Italy.

The downside of being a photographer like my father was Boris's intrigue in my work. Thereafter, I became his personal photographer for all his utmost important social gatherings from the Inner Circle; one reason why I decided to take the Media Art courses at school.

And it was a good way to sell my pictures for money to collect for our debt.

Arina leaned over from Maksimillian's lap, currently discussing something with my disloyal cousins who invited him over, which entailed the co-captain of the cheer squad to follow in his footsteps and observed my work like she was actually interested. "What are you working on?"

I ignored her and continued to catalogue the foliage of photos with Boris and his daughter dancing during the Father Daughter dance of the night. Marya Sokolov was a wild, raven hair beauty with pretty blue eyes like her mother, and the rebellious spirit of her brother.

"Earth to Korina," Arina pressed, waving her hand in front of my face. "I'm talking to you."

"Good luck with that," Erik said after taking a bite of his burger. "She's good at ignoring people."

That was the most he'd spoken around me in the last five days. I didn't understand how we got like this when he was the one who shoved me against the lockers, giving me a minor concussion and undecided blood hemorrhaging. Shouldn't I be mad at him?

"You seem to be better at it than I am lately," I said looking up from my folder to see him feign being hurt.

"Only cause I learned from the best, babe."

I stared icily at him. "Now you're being an asshole."

"That shouldn't be something new," he said negligently. "You do it all the time. Am I not allowed because you own it?"

My hand moved fast and struck him in the face. He lost remote of his burger and a astounded expression climbed in replace of the arrogant character he tried to put on. Whispers followed me as I left the table and started down the hallway.

"Kora!"

Nina and Mikhail and Levin were hot on my heels, catching up as I strode to my locker where several couples were kissing down the hall.