5. Our property

Maxim Vasiliev

~•~

"Would you care to explain what you spent a million dollars from the mafia money for?"

"Ah!" My father exclaimed, not the least bothered by my question. "I was just about to visit and talk about that."

I gritted my teeth in annoyance. I wondered how my father ever ran the mafia by himself. He was so impulsive and could be reckless at times. I hated him, but he was still my father.

"Pochemu by nam ne pogovorit' ob etom pryamo seychas?" I sighed. "Was it a mistake for me to give you access to the money? It's meant to be for important things, father." [Why don't we talk about it right now?]

"Ty takoy plotnyy, son. I bought you a gift." [You're so dense]

"A gift," I repeated, knowing it couldn't be anything good. "A gift worth a million dollars."

"Yes, you'd like it."

"If you wanted to give me a gift, you were meant to spend your personal money, not the business money."

"What's done is done. You'd receive your gift tonight. I promise you'd like it."

I knew I wouldn't like it. My father was sick and crazy. His views were completely different from mine. If he assured me I would like something, I was bound not to.

"He bought you a gift with the money?" Mikhail snorted. He wasn't too involved in the mafia but he lived with us and was the one person I considered my best friend.

I blew out a breath, throwing the knife in my hand at the target. It hit Bullseye. "Apparently."

This morning, I was very surprised to hear that a million dollars was suddenly missing. My first thought was that someone had stolen from me but when I checked the transaction and saw that it had been transferred to the Italians, I knew it had to be my father.

He was so cozy with them for reasons unknown to me. I never liked them and I was certain I wouldn't like whatever he got from them.

"Let's wait and see what it is then."

"I can only hope it's refundable. I can easily replace the money with mine but I do not want to aid his bad decisions."

Mikhail grinned. "Don't be like that, Max—"

"Maxim." I immediately corrected him. Max made it sound like I was American. I only had Russian roots.

He rolled his eyes. "Maxim. I feel like I would like your present."

Mikhail, however, was all American, but he was adopted by Russian parents back in Russia, hence the name, Mikhail. He had the typical American look; blonde hair and blue eyes. Fortunately, he had a Russian accent which he used to pull women. We became friends at a young age and moved with me to America when we were eighteen.

"Of course, you would." I threw another knife and it stuck just below the previous one. My aim was perfect and I didn't need any more practice but throwing knives was my hobby. It calmed me down.

It definitely stopped me from going over to my father's house demanding to see the gift at this moment.

I'd taken a break from work today after many months of working nonstop and instead of relaxing as I had planned to do, I was left thinking about what the fuck my father had done. I knew it couldn't be anything good.

I was not a very curious man but he had me wondering which was why as soon as one of my men alerted me of my father's presence at the gate hours later, I didn't waste time stepping out of my office.

When I reached the front room, he was already seated on the couch with a girl. Both of them stood up when they saw me.

"Ah, Maxim. It has been a while, hasn't it?"

My eyes drifted to the girl beside my father. She had plain brown hair but I couldn't see her face because she was looking at the ground. I hated it. She was dressed in a little dress that didn't cover anything.

"I've told you to stop bringing your whore to my house." I raised an eyebrow at the man who birthed me. He liked them young and the last one he brought here tried to steal from me. "Is she even legal?"

She flinched at the question but still didn't raise her gaze.

"Don't be like that, son. I brought her for you."

I paused and my tongue poked the inside of my cheek. "This is the gift you bought for me."

At those words, she finally looked up at me and I sucked a sharp breath at the intensity of her gaze. It seemed like she was just as surprised as I was.

"Yes. Isn't she pretty?"

"You spent a million dollars on a whore." I emphasized. "I can get pussy whenever the fuck I want and for free. Are you fucking crazy?"

"She's not just a pussy." He sighed like I was being the unreasonable one. "She has never been touched and I bought her for you because I know you're not settling down anytime soon. You can marry her or use her as your personal bitch. You don't have to look for a new woman to fuck every time. I'm sure you must be tired of all those clingy bitches. I'm doing you a favor, son."

I flexed my fingers, trying to stop myself from getting too angry. She wasn't some whore then. It didn't even seem like she wanted to be here. "Does she even want this? I'm not going to rape her. What's with your backward thinking?"

"It's not going to be rape."

"Do you want to have sex with me?"

The girl blinked as if she wasn't expecting the question. "M-me?"

"Did you consent to this? You were kidnapped, weren't you?"

She looked between my father and me as though she was scared to answer. Then, she nodded meekly. "Use your words," I added.

"K-kidnapped."

I turned to my father. "You and everyone else involved in this are sick. I don't want her. She doesn't want me. Get her the fuck out of my house."

"Fine." My sixty-year-old father shrugged. "She's already our property and if you don't want her, I'll just have her."