Forever Sinners - Anastasija N. (classic literature list .TXT) 📗

need to be a mind reader to know exactly what kind of thoughts were running through the older man’s head.

The next picture showed a tall, thin man with few hair on his head and deep wrinkles on his face. He wore a long coat and was standing near a black jeep with tinted windows, seemingly in conversation with another man who looked only slightly younger. Upon looking at the picture, Apollo felt a wave of rage surge through him. Seeing the man alive and well made him want to destroy everything and everyone, just to lessen slightly the feeling of injustice and revenge inside him.

Ivan Romanov.

A son of the underclass with violent parents, but gifted with an incredible genius, considered a criminal mastermind by many. Not a few people admired that he’d managed to become one of the most powerful men. In the past, he’d been a boy with no name, no reputation, absolutely no money. He’d earned the status of an Oligarch the day he founded his oil company – Romanov. It exploded all over the world, making profits that other companies were envious of. Many people suspected that Ivan Romanov also had his hands in criminal dealings with the Russian mob, but there had never been any real evidence.

Apollo knew better, though. He knew with certainty that Romanov not only had his dealings with the mafia but also was the boss of it. Truth be told, it was a known fact. Ivan Romanov was just too smart for the law.

And he was also the cause of everything bad in Apollo’s life.

Rubbing the heel of his hand against his temple, trying to soothe the ache building in his head, Apollo looked at the previous photo. Liliana Romanov, the daughter, was his free ticket to achieving revenge, and he planned to use her to his heart’s content. Romanov took everything that mattered from him, and now Apollo would repay him by doing the same thing. With every nightmare that plagued his sleep, a greater need burned somewhere in the darkest corners of his mind – one that left him questioning his own humanity. He needed to see the devastation on Ivan Romanov’s face as he took everything from him. Apollo wanted to watch him curl into himself, cursing the heavens, as the pain of watching his entire world slowly drift from his fingertips mercilessly ripped his heart from his chest.

He needed Romanov to feel what he’d felt in those final moments. He’d know Apollo’s pain. His suffering. His desolation. No quick bullet would deliver vengeance to that bastard. Apollo intended to give him the understanding of true hell. The realization that what he loved most, the very reason he lived, was gone forever.

Revenge.

The word simmered in Apollo’s head, a steady boil of seething that had kept him from blowing his own brains out the last two years. Like the word held some kind of sanity. A purpose.

Eye for an eye.

“Well?” Weidenheim spoke up with a glint in his eyes. “What do I get for this?”

Surfacing from the bottom of his thoughts, Apollo put the pictures and tickets back into the envelope which he hid in the inner pocket of his jacket. Aware of Weidenheim’s hungry gaze, he fished out the money he’d carried in his jacket as well.

“Fifty enough for you?” Apollo asked nonchalantly, counting the bills.

“’Scuse me?” The older man snorted. “You know how hard it was to get to the Romanovs? I put my whole life at risk!”

Apollo rolled his eyes in irritation and tossed seventy onto the table, watching with disgust as Weidenheim threw himself at the money, admiring the bills bound into a heavy pack with shiny eyes. Only when Apollo stood from the table and left some money for the waitress, he looked up.

“You already going, boy?” Weidenheim asked, stuffing his money hastily into his jacket. “Come now, stay for a drink, maybe we can strike another deal!”

The fuck we are.

“No, thanks,” Apollo replied harshly. The commentator screamed from the TV. Judging by the way the people went nuts, the game was apparently over. “I’ve got everything I need.”

Weidenheim looked him up and down and appeared completely somber for a brief moment. He frowned at Apollo, mumbling something to himself, and took a huge gulp of his whiskey. When he slammed the glass down, he shook his head in a lack of understanding. “Boy, go to fucking church if this shit bothers you that much.”

But Apollo was already on his way toward the exit, pushing himself through the crowd and the muggy air, curling his lips in distaste.

He didn’t need churches … he bled his sins.

.

 

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romanov manor; saint petersburg, russia – 10:30 pm { august 3rd, 2015 }

Carefully, Liliana pushed the door of the shower cabin aside and stepped out into the cold. Steam filled her entire bathroom, misting up the large mirror and the windows. She grabbed the towel she’d laid down on the edge of the sink and wrapped it around herself before enveloping her wet hair with another one. Stepping in front of the mirror, she wiped one hand across the foggy glass, staring at ocean’s blue eyes that sparkled back at her with tiredness.

God, yes, she was beyond tired.

After the talk with her father, she’d unpacked her suitcases and bags, which was a lot, and then had taken a warm meal prepared for her by Sonja. It felt nice being back at home, the people she loved the most close to her again, unlike in Tokyo where she hadn’t known anyone. Showering had been the last thing to do for today before going to sleep, and Liliana quite honestly couldn’t wait for it – being situated in her nice, comfortable bed, surrounded by pillows and blankets. Well, yes, she had to admit that she loved her sleep and needed a lot of it on a daily basis.

Suppressing a huge yawn, she trotted back to her room where she’d already laid out her pajamas on her bed, comprising of light-blue silk shorts and a compatible chemise. Unlike the adjoining bathroom that was all black and white with premium steel, two sinks along with a shower cabin and a bathtub, her bedroom was light. Her queen-sized bed, made of iron, stood by the opposite wall together with her nightstand. The walls were painted white and a warm brown while her floor was dark-brown parquet. There was also a love-seat in the corner and a bookshelf next to her desk, and everything was held in earthy tones of color. The huge windows covered by light-green curtains allowed a lot of sunshine and natural light to stream in.

After putting on her pajamas and deciding to let her hair dry naturally, Liliana sneaked out of her room and tip-toed down the big stairs, her gaze absently roaming over the pictures hanging on the wall. No light was burning in any of the rooms downstairs except for the kitchen. The small streak of light coming from under the closed door proved that there was someone in the room. Tapping against the door, she opened it and found Miss Sonja sitting by the kitchen island, her nose buried in a cookbook. The oven was dimming with a soft light, making it clear to see the plate of cookies baking inside. Two more plates were placed on the kitchen counter; the cookies on them looked crisp and delicious.

“We’re having a late-night baking session?” Liliana asked with a grin appearing on her face.

Miss Sonja looked up from her book. Her glasses had skidded down her nose, and her light-green eyes were twinkling. The skin on her elderly hands was white with flour. “Oh, I’m just preparing some cookies for tomorrow. What are you still doing here, sweetie? I thought that by now you’d already be in bed.”

“I’ll be in my comfy bed in a few minutes.” Again, Liliana had to suppress another yawn. “I just wanted to see if someone of you guys was still up. But I guess the smell of these delicious cookies drew me in without me noticing it at all.”

When Miss Sonja noticed the wistful look Liliana shot at the plates, she chuckled and closed her books, putting her glasses down on the stainless marble of the kitchen island. “Don’t even think about it, young lady. These are solely for tomorrow.”

“I’m not thinking about anything.” Liliana pouted. “They look mouth-watering, though.”

Laughing, Miss Sonja rose from her seat and, after quickly checking the cookies inside the oven, walked over to the fridge. The kitchen of the Romanov manor was a huge thing with rustic, dark-brown furniture and high-tech kitchen devices. The tessellated door opposite to them led out into the garden. Liliana liked to spend her time here, especially when it was with Miss Sonja, who’d been their housemaid for as long as she could remember. When she was younger, she’d always called Sonja by the name ‘Miss Sonja’ and it kind of stuck with her through the years. The elderly woman had practically raised her as Liliana’s mother had died when giving birth to her. Miss Sonja had always been like a grandmother to her, slipping candy into her jacket when her father hadn’t been looking, always standing up to her defense.

“But I do have something else,” Miss Sonja said as she rummaged through the freezer. When she turned around a few seconds later, she had a chocolate ice cream tub in her hands and a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Okay,” Liliana replied instantly, straightening up, “I’m in!”

Grabbing two spoons from one drawer, she joined Miss Sonja at the kitchen island and scooped some ice cream into her mouth, shivering slightly at the cold sensation on her teeth and tongue. For a moment, they just sat there, enjoying the ice cream and the comfortable silence.

“So,” Miss Sonja spoke up, setting her spoon aside, “Tell me, have you met someone while you were in Tokyo?”

“Who am I supposed to have met?”

“Maybe a handsome young man?”

Liliana sighed softly and scooped more ice cream onto her spoon. “No, I haven’t.”

She lowered her gaze to the table, the coldness melting in her mouth. Miss Sonja’s question had put her back to the bottom of her thoughts where she usually pondered over the things that left her no peace or quiet. Her question was something that Liliana got asked on almost a daily basis by reporters, the press, even her father. They all wanted to know whether she was seeing someone or not; after all, the future of her father’s company – the future of their name – could depend on it.

To speak the truth, Liliana had been in love one time, but it happened a few years ago when she’d been younger, blinder. After that, there’d been no guy able to catch her interest. She’d been involved with someone in London, but it had been clear to her that it would be just a summer fling from the very beginning. The guy had been her age; a pretty, happy-go-lucky boy who had kissed too sloppy and stared too obvious. It’d been nice, but at the end he was too young, too immature, and that had opened Liliana’s eyes to the fact that guys her age just didn’t do it for her. No, it didn’t mean that her future boyfriend had to be fifty years her senior, but he should be old enough to have a sense of maturity and experience. She wouldn’t call herself a high-maintenance girl, but she was a little picky about whom she wanted to get to know better. Most guys around her simply wanted her money or her father’s respect, and most of them reduced her to her looks.

Liliana wanted someone real. She needed a challenge. She wanted to feel that connection to someone she’d never been able to find. The one you read about. The one that made you feel alive.

“How was my dad while I was gone?” Liliana asked to distract herself from