God of Pain (Legacy of Gods #2)(79)

“Don’t feed her lies, Lenochka.” He pins me with a stare. “I’m three-quarters Russian. That makes you about a quarter Russian.”

“One-third at worst.”

“Still a no.”

“Let her have some, Boss. We need to prepare her for all the vodka.” Yan fills my glass with wine and narrowly escapes having his head chopped off by Papa’s glare.

Then he pretends not to have noticed the murder attempt and gets engrossed in his food.

“Didn’t you have eat not two hours ago?” Kolya calls him out on his bullshit point-blank.

“So what? Food tastes so much better with the kids around.”

“That’s true.” Mom sighs. “I’m so happy you guys came back, even if it’s just for a few days. Apparently, you’re all grown up and don’t need to visit your mother anymore.”

“Of course not.” I side-hug her. “We’re just too busy with school.”

“And other things,” Jeremy says casually while cutting his steak.

I make a face at him and he just remains in his blank mode.

We agreed that he’d let me talk to them on my own. Which I’ll do in the morning because I’m too drained for that conversation tonight.

“Oh, I know.” Mom rubs my hand that’s on the table. “I’m glad you made friends. They looked nice.”

“They’re the best ever. We’re having a lot of fun on campus.”

“Not too much fun, though, right?” Papa levels me with one of his stern fatherly looks again.

“Oh, Adrian. Let her be,” Mom chastises. “Tell me all about the fun you’ve had.”

I chatter on and on, interrupted by Jeremy's semi-threatening objections whenever he feels like I’ve veered too close to the subject we’re here for.

We stay around the table for a long time, even after we finish dinner. They fill us in on Yan’s antics with Kolya, Boris, and Papa. Mom comes to his defense, which displeases Papa, judging by the subtle threats to Yan’s life.

By the time we retreat to our rooms, it’s super late.

That means it‘s early morning in the UK.

After taking a shower, I lie in bed and retrieve my phone. I send everyone a text that I’m visiting home for the weekend. I get replies from Cecily, Ava, Glyn, Bran, and Remi, but there’s nothing from Creighton.

My heart sinks as I stare at the last text I sent him.

Annika: I’m going back home to convince Papa to accept our relationship. If I do, Jer will leave us alone. Wish me luck. I’ll miss you.

It hasn’t been read, so it’s not like he’s ignoring me. Maybe he’s still asleep. After all, it’s Saturday back on the island.

Rolling onto my stomach, I scroll through the album called ‘My Purple.’ It has all sorts of pictures of us, mostly selfies I’ve taken while he wasn’t paying attention.

There’s one picture that I love the most. It’s when he was massaging my feet that were against his chest during a bath. It was right after he tied me up and brutally fucked me. Then he carried me to the bath and rubbed the red marks around my feet. He was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice when I took the picture.

I zoom in on his face and sigh. Why do I suddenly miss him so much when it’s barely been a few hours since I last saw him?

“Is this the reason you’re having so much fun?” Mom sneaks up behind me, carrying a plate of pastries and it’s too late to hide the picture from her.

Thank God it’s only zoomed in on his face and not my feet on his naked chest with the bathroom as a background.

“Mom!”

Her smile immediately disappears. The tray shakes in her hand before it topples and falls to the ground with a haunting crash.

But I don’t focus on that, because something worse happens.

Mom has paled, her lips are trembling, and her whole body has stiffened.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her like this.

As if…she’s seen a ghost.





25





ANNIKA





“Mom…?”

I slowly stand up, limbs shaking, and my heart thumping with the brutality of a torture device.

My mother remains frozen in place, her hands trembling at either side of her as she stares right through me.

It’s like she’s here but not really here.

And the sight scares the shit out of me.

Careful not to step on the broken glass and ruined snacks, I take my time approaching her until I’m toe-to-toe with her.

“Mom,” I call again, louder this time. I wave my hand in front of her face.

She flinches.

I flinch.

That’s the first time I’ve ever seen my mother flinch. Papa might be the bad mafia guy, but at home, they share everything. Just because she’s soft doesn’t mean she’s weak. In fact, she can be extremely powerful if the circumstances call for it.

She’s just not the type to flinch, period.

So why do her eyes look so…dead? They’re usually the liveliest I know.

The warmest, too.

“Mom!” My voice translates all the panic that’s spreading inside me.

She jerks, blinking slowly, before her attention zeroes in on me. And it’s like she’s seeing me for the first time. As if I haven’t been her daughter, her baby angel, for the past eighteen years.