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Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 91
AsherLayla has the ability to traverse my home with the lightness of a mouse on tiptoe. I only hear her footsteps because I’m listening for them. My office door is open, her shadow slipping through the gap moments before she does.“Asher Volkov,” she says to announce herself. Her posture is stiff, shoulders pulled back and jaw clenched.She knows why I’ve called for her.“Explain yourself.”“About what?”She won’t make this easy for me. Fine. Sitting forward in my leather chair, I place my elbows on my spread knees, my chin perched on my laced fingers. “You knew Camila’s little secret. Didn’t you?”Gently, with just her heel, she shuts the door. “Her brother? I did.”There it is. The confirmation I expected but hoped to be wrong about. “It seems everyone is happily keeping secrets from me,” I grumble, reclining back in my chair.Her eyebrows lower to match her tone. “Can you blame them?”My fingers, which had started to relax on the chair’s arms, dig in fiercely enough to make the le
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 92
CamilaWhen I was a kid, brushing my hair always brought me comfort. Doing it before bed was a ritual that started before I knew what the word even meant. I’d sit on my mattress, my knees tucked beneath, music piping gently in the background, and throw my hair over my shoulder. Mom used to do it for me. She was patient—which was rare—as she ran the boar-bristled brush over my thick locks until they glowed like honey in the sun.I wish she was here to do it for me now.Mom, I hope you’re okay.Stroking the brush down to the tips of my hair, I try to let it relax me, but it’s not working. It was a long shot, all things considered. Too much terrible stuff has happened in such a short time. If I could just brush it away, it would be a miracle. People like me never get those.A soft tap comes at my door, and a moment later, I hear Asher’s voice on the other side.“Camila?”Sitting up, I drop my feet to the floor. What could he want at this hour? I have an idea, but I don’t know if I’m read
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 93
AsherStepping out of my shoes, I throw them carelessly to the far end of my bedroom. My overshirt goes next. I’m in nothing but my pants and a sleeveless undershirt when someone knocks on my door.Drawing my hand over my face, I stare at my reflection in the closet door mirror. I’m haggard, to put it politely. If it’s Layla knocking, she’s going to take one look at the messy state of my room and conclude I’m becoming a slob. Finding the energy to be tidy isn’t easy. This listlessness goes beyond mere exhaustion.I’m bone-tired after my talk with Camila. Every conversation we have feels like a battle. I’m not winning any of them, though I don’t think I’d feel better if I did.The knock comes again—more insistent. Sighing, I grab the brass knob and yank. “What do you—” I stop talking. Camila stands in front of me in a thin lavender silk robe she’s thrown hastily around her shoulders. “Camila, what’s wrong?” After telling me she needed time, I expected she’d avoid me until tomorrow.“It
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 94
CamilaEveryone in the house must have heard me scream. I don’t know how they wouldn’t—the sound is echoing off the walls, the ceiling, and bouncing back into my own ears. I could grab a pillow and muffle my cries, but I don’t. Deep down I want everyone to know what we’re doing. At least then there’ll be proof beyond us. The world will know that, for a little while, we were happy together.Stop that ... Don’t think like this is all you’ll get from him. It isn’t.It might be.The Bratva war isn’t over. Asher has nearly died more than once. I know there’s tension between us. His need to achieve revenge and my pitiful hope that we can have a future without more bloodshed are in conflict.“You’re perfect,” he whispers, shutting me off from my internal demons. I can’t ignore his eyes darkened by lust. He holds me close, bending me to him until our ribs are interlocked. A tornado couldn’t rip us apart.Little ripples vibrate through my insides. My climax has left me dazed, but it hasn’t sat
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 95
CamilaI’ve developed a slight obsession with baby forums. My mother is out of reach, Layla has never had kids, Ollie is too naive, and Adriana … I should be able to talk to Adriana, but ever since her husband was roped in to help with the cops, our relationship has been awkward. Each chat has a heavy air around it, like discussing the baby is inappropriate.I’ve wondered more than once if she’s not actually excited about the pregnancy. Her opinion of Asher isn’t a glowing one, after all.Sitting downstairs in a patch of sun on the long green couch by the massive windows, I scroll through my phone idly. There are all kinds of messages on the forum. People post about how far along they are—they love comparing their babies to the size of vegetables and fruit—and talk about if they’re having a boy or a girl; they even complain about their in-laws. That’s a very popular topic to vent about.I’d take that problem over the ones I have, I muse cynically. I’m reading the live chat, and half t
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 96
Ice spreads through my bones. The deliciousness of the meal evaporates. “What?”“You died because of me. I was responsible. Camila, the very thought that I could lose you is unbearable.”Reaching over the table, I grab his hand in mine. “You won’t.”“Predicting the future is impossible,” he argues sourly.I clench his hand tighter. “Yes, but I know you won’t be the reason I die.”The lights on the chandelier flicker, then go out. I yelp in surprise. “What happened?”“Shit,” Asher mutters, scraping his chair backward. The firelight makes one half of the cabin red and orange; the window paints the rest in washes of blue and somber purple. I didn’t notice it earlier, but there’s a scraping, wheezing noise, tiny taps as something small and hard brushes along the window. He moves to a metal plate on the wall—I could barely see it if not for the fire’s glow. He fiddles with it. “The snow has started coming down again hard. Must have taken the power out.”“Will we be okay?” I ask nervously.
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 97
Asher“Tell me everything,” I say.I’m standing in one of the large bedrooms in the cabin. There are four, but this is the biggest. It’s the only space that can comfortably fit me, Mila, and six of my brigadiers. Kostya has placed himself dead center in the room, his shoulders pulled back, head high and static. The rest sit behind him in an arrangement of chairs I’ve had brought in from other rooms.Mila is the only other one on her feet; she’s picked the back right corner, huddling into the gap like she wants to be ignored. She keeps her arms tucked around her chest, her lips scrunched up.Kostya clears his throat. “Three days after you left, the police raided the mansion. They searched it up and down, turned it inside out, but of course, they found nothing.”“I assume they interrogated the staff?” I ask.“Nobody said a word, of course.”Not surprising; my people are loyal down to their bone marrow. “Good. What else?”Kostya glances over at Nikolai. The lanky man jumps to his feet to
Mafia's Runaway And Pregnant 98
CamilaKilling him isn’t something I relish, but it’s going to happen sooner or later.That sentence chases me through the cabin. It follows me down the hall, past the ice-fogged windows, around the carefully crafted wooden benches built into the walls. It’s on my heels like a dog on the hunt all the way to the bedroom I’ve been sharing with Asher.I stare around at the space for half a second before retreating.No, I can’t be in there.I can’t be anywhere that feels like him.The cabin is large enough that ducking into a guest bedroom isn’t hard. I have my pick from the bunch. They’re all similar in design. All I care about is the white bed in the middle of the room.Killing him isn’t something I relish, but it’s going to happen sooner or later.How can he say that? My head is being pulled apart by pressure. I’m trying not to cry from frustration and disappointment. From the pocket of my sweater dress, I tug out my phone. I’m halfway to dialing when I remember the obvious. Plucking t
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