CamilaI’m a pile of needles. Each time I move, I feel my thoughts prickling me—not hard enough to draw blood, but still enough to remind me of my discomfort. I can’t believe Mom is coming here. Settling on the cushion of my vanity, I run my brush through my hair. There are no tangles; I’m brushing it just to stay busy.Will she like it here? What should I say to her?What can I even say to her?Hi, Mom, you remember Asher? Turns out he’s a Bratva pakhan who killed a man the night before he showed up to buy our studio.Oh, and he’s my husband now. But don’t worry, it’s just a temporary thing.God, she’ll never forgive me if she hears any of that.My phone on the vanity begins to buzz, and I snatch it up, answering without looking. “Hello?”“Camila!” Adriana shouts in my ear, and I have to hold the phone away while wincing in pain. “Oh my God! You’re okay!”“Yeah, of course, I’m okay.” I guess she must have worried because we haven’t spoken to each other in a while. “What’s up?”“What’
Her eyes darken. “Is it Simon?”“No! No.” I shake my head quickly. “I mean, he might be, sure, but this is someone else. How much do you know about …” I hesitate to say the word, but I can’t keep this from her forever. “About the Bratvas?”“Camila Marakov, no!” She jumps off the bed, cursing something under her breath. “Do not tell me that you’ve gotten involved with the Bratvas!”Her reaction surprises me. I stand slowly, holding my hands up to indicate she should sit, but she doesn’t. “Mom, calm down.”“Answer me! Have you?”Wincing at my inability to lie to her face, I go silent. Then, slowly, I dip my head ever so slightly in a nod.She gasps and her hand twitches. Wincing, I close my eyes in anticipation of a slap that never comes. When I open them, Mom is glaring at the bedroom door. I wait for it to combust from her fury. But it doesn’t.“So,” she starts, and I can detect the faintest tremble in her voice, “Asher is Bratva. Now I understand where all his money comes from.”“Don
CamilaWith the utmost patience, I pull my dress upward. The hem is at my knees, and it’s a thrill to have his gaze drink in my every movement. Shimmying my leggings down with my other hand, I expose my creamy thighs. I don’t have any panties on, and he inhales lustily at the sight.“Do you like seeing me stand before you like this?” I whisper slyly.“Knowing that you’ve been strutting around with your delicious pussy easily accessible to me? What do you think?”Spreading his legs, he rubs his palm over his massive erection. He grinds his zipper down in an agonizingly slow motion, revealing the bulge of his cock throbbing against the thin fabric of his boxers.Not to be outdone, I step out of my leggings, and then I inch my dress up and over my hips, my navel, until he can see the underside of my breasts. I remain there, my hard nipples acting like nails that hold the fabric in place.Asher lifts his eyebrows at my show. Shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs sends his thick coc
CamilaI’ve chewed my thumbnail down to the quick. The skin splits, blossoming red. Hissing in pain, I shake my hand out, clenching my fingers. I have to quit this bad habit one of these days. I always do it when I’m stressed. And right now, I am very stressed.After a fitful sleep in Asher’s bed, I woke with a nagging feeling in my head. Though walls and floors separate us, I keep picturing my mother in the house. Did she sleep okay last night? Did Layla meet her, get food for her? How is she getting along compared to my first night?And on more than one occasion, I wonder if she heard us last night.Her arrival left me flushed with joy. But after enough hours, the happiness faded to something bleaker. There’s something she said yesterday that I can’t shed.Sleep didn’t erase it. If anything, the time passing has made my curiosity sharper.Why did Mom react like that on hearing Yannick’s name?I replay the scene over in my head. My mother was hanging on my every word when we spoke, s
CamilaDAYS LATERWithout Mila’s phone number, my only way of contacting her is to wait for her to show up at the mansion. It would be faster and more reliable to ask someone for her info, or ask them to reach out to her for me. But it’s risky. Everyone here works for Asher, and I can’t risk him finding out what I’m up to.He’d never approve.In the meantime, I’m forced to tiptoe around my mother. When we spot each other in the hallways, we go in opposite directions. Her meals are taken in private. I saw Masha delivering a tray to her last night. She gives me an apologetic nod whenever I catch them walking out of her room. It’s no secret that my mother and I are at odds. Both of us are being as subtle as elephants.Mom doesn’t want to be here, and I don’t know how to be around her without prying into what she’s hiding. But one thing is for sure. There’s no question she knows something about Yannick.Asher isn’t much easier to be near lately either. He stalks around, glaring at nothing
Jealousy that I thought was reserved for Kristina washes up my spine. Hunching over a box, I dig through, barely looking at the details on the paperwork as I talk in a clipped tone. “He and you must be very close after all that time together.”Mila snorts. The light bounces wildly off the walls. I glance up to see her covering her mouth with one arm, shaking enough that the phone is no longer being aimed.“Camila Marakov,” her voice turns light and teasing. “Are you jealous?”“I didn’t say that!” But my argument is weak. I look away in shame. “But yes. I am. I mean … You’re the perfect woman for him. And you’ve been working for him since his previous wife died, so I just thought that …”I can’t bear to finish the sentence.Mila points the light directly in my face and I gasp at the brightness, shielding myself.“Don’t be an idiot,” she says. “I never thought about him like that. Besides, Asher is too much of a professional. He doesn’t shit where he eats.” Moving the light from my eyes
CamilaThe papers are spread across my bed like I’m planning to make a thousand paper flowers for a wedding. They cover the blanket so thickly you can hardly see it between the gaps. Stalking around the mattress, I write hastily on the back of a scrap piece I’ve folded in half.My notes must make me seem insane. No one could decipher my scribbles, which have been made in increasingly frantic lines. But I need to write to keep track, and also … to believe that what I’m seeing is true.This can’t be real. It just can’t!Staring in between my writing and the documents, I finally sink onto the floor in a heap. There’s no denying it. I’ve gone over everything a hundred times—it’s nearly dawn. After the high- octane escape out of the mansion and back again, I’m awake from pure adrenaline.What I’ve learned is going to change everything.Mom ... is this what you didn’t want me to know?The major trail of income into the dance studio points in one direction. For years, my father accepted mone
AsherFacing my reflection in the mirror, I pull at the bags under my eyes.I look like shit.It’s not just sleep that eludes me. It’s that when I do go under, my dreams are shifting, torturous things that assault me. I’ve always been plagued by demons. For a little while, with Camila at my side, they retreated. But since Mila came by with more useless intel, nothing soothes me.My most talented assassin has no idea what Yannick is doing. She doesn’t know where he is, what he wants, or when he’ll act. Fuck, or if he even will act. The bastard has gone underground without any indication of resurfacing.Scratching at my hair, I shut my eyes with a shaky sigh. My world is falling apart. It’s dramatic, yes, but it’s how it feels. I’m nothing without my plans. All I’ve focused on for the last ten years is how to eradicate Yannick with my own two hands.How do you kill a ghost?Shambling into my bathroom, I run the hot water in my shower until the room is covered in steam. It’s so thick it