Novels by altajneva

RomanShe is late.I return to the conversation around the table, doing my best to fake interest. I was never a fan of big gatherings. Fake people with fake smiles, pretending they are oh-so-happy-to-see-you while, secretly, they wish for your demise. I look around the table and wonder which one of them set up the bomb that fucked up my life. It wasn’t the Italians. Of that, I’m sure. This device was planted under my car, and if it were the Italians, they would have rigged the whole warehouse. I was lucky that the bastard got trigger happy and hit the remote a few seconds before I was even inside. Only a handful of people knew my schedule for that day, and some of them are sitting at this table.I reach for the whiskey bottle to refill my glass when my uncle lets out a whistle, like the uncivilized pig he is, and motions with his cigar toward the entrance.“Nice ass,” he comments.I follow his gaze and my eyes land on a woman in a long emerald-green dress. Black embroidered decoration

NinaThe evening is unusually warm, but I still feel cold all over as I step out of the restaurant. My father grabs my arm and hastily ushers me toward the car, asking me questions along the way, but I can’t focus on his words. I open the passenger door and sit down. My legs are trembling. Looks like the adrenaline ran out and I’m feeling the aftereffects.I’ve never been as scared as the moment I entered that restaurant, wondering if they had changed their minds and decided to kill us. Staying composed and cool in front of that shark of a man required tremendous self-control. I almost slipped a few times. But, if he thought, even for a moment, that I couldn’t play his game, my father and I were as good as dead. The wheelchair didn’t fool me, I knew who I was facing the moment our gazes met—a stone-cold killer.Roman Petrov. I assumed he was some elderly guy with a beer belly and receding hairline. Why would he be blackmailing a woman into marriage otherwise? I couldn’t have been more

RomanA girl brings my drink, places it on the table in front of me, and without looking up, turns and runs back toward the kitchen. I look around, noting the drab tablecloths and mismatching chairs. The place is a dump. It closed last month, which is exactly why I picked it for this meeting. A sound of a phone ringing pierces the silence.“They are here,” Maxim says from his spot behind me. “She came with her father.”“Let the girl in. The father is to stay outside.”I take a sip of whiskey and focus my eyes on the glass door on the other side of the room. There is a knock and my man who is standing by the door opens it, letting the girl inside.For some reason, I expected her to be taller. She is a tiny thing, not much over five feet. Her long midnight-black hair is falling in two thick braids on either side of her face, and if you overlook her breasts, she could pass as a teenager. She’s even dressed like one—torn black jeans, a black hoodie, and those black boots I’ve seen emo kid

NinaI put my bag on the recliner and turn around in the living room. It’s been months since I’ve been here, but it looks like nothing has changed. The same white curtains and carpet, white and beige furniture, empty white walls. So much white—it looks sterile. I always despised it. No wonder that the first significant amount of money I earned, I used it to rent an apartment and get away from this bleakness.“I’m home!” I shout.A few seconds later there is a sound of clicking heels coming my way. My mom exits the kitchen and rushes toward me, her hands on her hips. Zara Grey is the complete opposite of me—tall and blonde, with full makeup on, and in a perfectly pressed dress. A white silky one. I want to groan.“You are three hours late, I told you—” she stops in mid-sentence. “Dear God, what have you done with yourself?”“Can you be more specific?”“The metal thing on your nose.”“It is called a piercing, Mom.”“People get diseases through those, Nina. When your father sees you, he’

RomanThree months laterThere are never enough drugs.I put the sheet filled with notes on the pile of papers on my desk and focus on the numbers on the laptop screen.“Call Sergei.” I lean back in my wheelchair and look at Maxim, who is sitting on the other side of my desk. “I need him to arrange two additional shipments this month.”“He already negotiated the quantities with Mendoza for the quarter. I’m not sure the Mexicans can double it on such short notice.”“They will. Now, tell me what the fuck happened because I know that look well, and I know I won’t like the answer.”“Samuel Grey embezzled three million dollars. Our money.”I sigh and shake my head. “Who is Samuel Grey, why did he have access to our money, and how did he manage to do that?”“Our real estate mediator. The money was meant for buying two more lots near the north warehouse. Grey thought he could borrow our money for a week for some investment which ended up being a Ponzi scheme.”How much of an idiot a person w