Henson

"F*ck," he breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose -"You're mine, Alice, don't you know that?" He eyed her cautiously, his dark eyes eventually meeting hers.

Frozen in her spot, Alice continued to watch him as he paced from one side of the room to the other like a predator, the agitation radiating from him. Annoyed at her lack of response he took the few steps towards her until they were so close she could smell the whiskey on his breath. "Don't you know that?" He asked again, softer this time, his words thick with a Russian accent.

"Don't you know what personal space is?" She remarked. He was silent for a few seconds after that, and she almost started to believe he hadn't heard her at all. Though whatever confidence she'd been able to muster was short lived when he took a step back and broke out into bitter laughter.

"You and me aren't going to get along, printsessa." He smiled, but his eyes said the opposite.

******

Alice wasn't technically involved in the Mafia, but she damn well wasn't clueless about the whole thing. She always swore she didn't try to attract crazy men, it just happened. But what if your definition of crazy is different to someone else's? What if you fall in love with someone you certainly shouldn't?

Vladimir Henson loved the fight. He loved everything about it. Working his way up in the Russian mob since a child, by twenty-one he was living the dream. That was, of course, until he gets shipped to Chicago to fulfil an alliance between one mafia and another.

Faced with lies, betrayal and even love, this is the story of how it all began, to how it all ended.