Kostya: A Dark Mafia Romance (Zinon Bratva) by Nicole Fox (open ebook .TXT) 📗

a moment, and then begin reading again. Half of the page is highlighted. Hell, half of the book is highlighted. There isn’t enough time for me to memorize all of this before the test. I’m going to fail. I’m going to have to drop out of school, and then what?

In the midst of my downward spiral, my phone rings.

I groan and dismiss the call without looking to see who it is. Everyone in my life knows I have this test today. I told my dad I would be coming home tonight and not to bother me until then since I’ll be staying with him for the entire winter break. And Sadie is going to pick me up after the test to take me home, so she knows not to call. Whoever it was—probably a telemarketer—is not worth the energy it would take to read the number.

I sigh and focus on the page again.

When my phone buzzes a second time, I actually let out a scream, which my roommate—a Chinese exchange student who has been in a perpetual state of jet lag since she arrived four months ago—does not appreciate. She glares at me and then rolls over, pulling the blankets over her head. I have no idea if she has any finals, but based on her sleep schedule, I’d have to guess that she has missed them all.

I don’t recognize the number, so I dismiss it with a quick flick of my wrist and go back to studying.

I’m in the middle of highlighting an important sentence I missed the first ten times I read through the chapter when my phone buzzes once more.

“Goddammit,” I mutter, grabbing my phone off the charger and answering it. “What?”

“Courtney?”

I frown and pull back to look at the number on the screen.

My heart drops.

Then, I bring it back to my ear. “Mom?”

“Hey, baby girl,” she croons in the sickly sweet voice she uses when it has been way too long since we’ve spoken. “How are you?”

“Did you get a new phone?”

“Oh yeah,” she says. “A couple months ago. Did I not give you the number?”

“No, but I guess I have it now.”

She laughs. “That’s right. You sure do. Now you have no excuse not to call me.”

“What was your excuse?” I say before I can think better of it.

I don’t have time to fight with my mom right now, and when she sighs on the other end of the phone, I try to backpedal.

“I was just joking.”

“I know I promised I’d see you over fall break, but time got away from me,” she said. “I was traveling and lost my phone and had to get a new one.”

I make a noncommittal noise to let her know I get it. Even though I completely don’t—and I don’t really care to, either.

“Things just got crazy,” she says. “But I wanted to call and make plans for winter break. I thought I could come to town for a few days. Maybe see your dorm room and you could show me the campus and—”

“Actually,” I say, interrupting her. “I’m in the middle of studying for a final.”

“This will only take a second,” she says, her sweet voice disappearing. “Just a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”

“The dorms are closed over winter break. I won’t be in town.”

“Oh,” she says, disappointed. “Where are you staying? You could come stay with me. I’m in a one-bedroom studio and Markus stays over a lot these days, but we have a futon, and I’m sure we could rig up a partition so—”

“I’m staying with Dad,” I say. “We arranged it weeks ago.”

Weeks ago. When my mom was traveling and too busy to talk to me. Like always.

She tries to sound offended, but even if I did come visit her for the break, she’d find a reason why I needed to leave early or why I should maybe get a hotel room instead. Her boyfriend doesn’t like kids and refuses to acknowledge that I’m a grown woman and not a child who’s going to get Pringles crumbs on his leather La-Z-Boy.

“Well, if your father gets time with you, then I should, too.”

“I’m not a brownie you’re splitting in half,” I snap. “I’m a person. I choose where I spend my time. Dad doesn’t get time with me. He’s earned it by being there. Like a parent is supposed to be.”

I really don’t have time for this argument right now, but I can’t help myself when it comes to my mom. She gets under my skin.

She huffs. “That’s not fair, and you know it. When your father and I split up, I couldn’t take you with me, and you resent me for it.”

“I resent you for acting like you can waltz back into my life at any time you want,” I say. “Like I said before, I’m busy studying. I have to go.”

“Call me later. This isn’t over.”

It is over. I won’t be calling her later. I have no intention of seeing her over the break.

“Bye,” I say shortly, disconnecting the call.

My heart is racing the way it does every time I get in a fight with my mom. There’s something instinctually wrong with having this kind of a relationship with your own parent, and my body knows it. I’m always jittery for a while after we argue. I shake my arms to dispel the weird feeling and pull my book towards me.

I’ve only read three words when another phone starts to ring. I don’t recognize the song and then realize it’s Dandan’s alarm, chirping from the other side of the room.

She groans and shoves the phone under her pillow, stifling the noise but not stopping it.

“Dan.” I lean around my desk. “Dan!”

Nothing. No movement or rustle. Just the slightly muted sounds of bells chiming.

Forty-five minutes until my test.

There’s no point in trying to study anymore. It’ll take me fifteen minutes to walk to the exam room anyway.

I sigh and pack up my books. I won’t be able to use them during the test, but maybe their knowledge