Stolen by the Mob Boss : A Russian Mafia Romance (Bratva Hitman) by Nicole Fox (classic fiction TXT) 📗

“Why?”

“Maybe it’s the writer in me, but whenever I think about the future, it makes me feel hopeful. It gives me a goal to achieve. It gives me something to look forward to every morning.”

I lean in for another quick kiss, which she allows. “Right now, you’re that for me.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Not at all,” I reply. “You surprised me, Lucy. I like that you’re always full of surprises.”

When her grin becomes too much for her to bear, she climbs on top of me and places her hands on my pecs. She runs her finger over the gash on my side that’s all but healed up now. She then slides her hands back up, teasing my nipples.

“I have another surprise for you,” she says.

Playing along, I ask, “What is it?”

That signature devilish Lucy look appears again, and she inches down my body. “They say good authors always show rather than tell.”

“Then show me,” I say.

With a wicked smile, Lucy kisses down my stomach before disappearing under the covers. A moment later, her surprise arrives, and we spend the rest of the night enjoying it to the fullest.

Chapter Thirteen

Lucy

“Mommy, wait!”

No matter how many times I call out to her, she won’t stop running. I pump my arms to keep up with her, but somehow, as fast as I run, she always stays just out of reach. From the corner of my eyes, I see Dad appear, and he speeds up so that he matches her pace. At eight years old, I don’t have long enough legs to ever reach them.

“Daddy!”

My cries fall on ears that must be too far away to hear me. That has to be it. Why else would they ignore me?

We run for what feels like forever. I stop to catch my breath, tears stinging my eyes. None of this makes sense. Why can’t they listen to me? Why won’t they just stop? When I look up, I see that they have. Only, they stand perfectly still, their backs turned to me. I straighten up, a chill running through me.

It’s like they’re waiting for me. It’s like they know that I’ve stopped running too.

“Please,” I shout. “I’ll stop him, I promise!”

I can hear the sound of him somewhere in the distance. That deep, mature laugh that only a man of a certain personality can have. Like the world bows at his feet. Like there’s nothing and no one that could ever hold him accountable for what he’s done.

Mom is the first to move. She turns around, her eyes far away. Her mouth is moving, but I can’t hear her. Dad does the same thing, with more anguish on his face. They reach for me, and for a moment, I’m certain I hear them call my name.

“Lucy!”

I start to run for them, and that’s when the flames engulf them. The scream that tears through me hurts my throat, and I fall to the floor on my knees, sobbing. It’s like my heart has been ripped out and ice has filled the cavity in my chest, sending frigid shivers through my body. I bury my face in my hands, trying to collect myself. Trying to get it together.

Nothing helps.

When I look up again, I’m on my front lawn. The fire is still burning, raging worse than anything I’ve ever seen. The windows have all blown out from the heat. The grass around the house is singed black. Firefighters do their best, but it’s almost too much to put out.

When they do, they wheel out two bodies in bags.

Mom and Dad.

Knowing exactly who’s in those bags makes me want to die. At eight, I want to die. I don’t want to be in a world without them. I don’t want to exist knowing that the people that made it possible are no longer around.

I wish I could take everything back.

I wish I could rewind time and not leave the house to spend time with my best friend. We planned this day for weeks, but with our parents’ crazy schedules, we had to put it off again and again. Finally, everything lined up. This was the only time I could make it to her house.

Nana picked me up after we were done hanging out, and on the ride home, she told me how much Mom and Dad missed me. Mom had called her, saying that she was worried. This was the first playdate where I was at someone else’s house. She felt like I was growing up too fast, like she was losing me.

If only she knew what would come a few hours after that phone call.

If only I’d been home. I wouldn’t hurt like this. I wouldn’t be sobbing in the front lawn, orphaned by a fire nobody could’ve ever seen coming.

A shadow looms over me, and it takes everything I have to turn around and face whatever it is that’s making it. I expect a fireman to tell me that I have to get off the property. That Nana is waiting for me, begging me to come back.

But it’s not a fireman.

It’s him. Abram Konstantin.

With his slicked-back dark hair and that ever-present, self-aggrandizing smirk dancing on his paper-thin lips. He scratches at his short beard, looking down at me like a petulant child throwing a temper tantrum over a toy I want.

I know that I hate him as sure as I know the sky is blue and the grass around me is green. I hate him with every possible atom that I’m made of. I hate him so passionately that I feel nothing at all. Just empty hollowness. A dark corridor where my heart once was.

He leans in close and I can smell the cigar on his breath. “Poor thing,” he murmurs, looking me over. “Don’t cry.”

I wipe my eyes and push myself off the ground.

“That’s a good girl.” His words are kind, but I know they lack any warmth. He’s mocking me. He’s toying with me, because he knows that this “accident” won’t affect him. He’ll get off