The Russian Billionaire’s Secret(52)
Chapter 1: The Beginning Of The End
Chapter 2: Boom
Chapter 3: Hiding From Evil
Chapter 4: The Truth
Chapter 5: Falling For The Agent
Chapter 6: Ireland And Fantasies
Chapter 1
The Beginning Of The End
You would think being the daughter of a mafia lord would be interesting, but in reality my life sucks. I can't go anywhere without bodyguards, every normal person in this world is scared to be associated with me, and there's no escape.
I hate my father, even though I love him at the same time. I just want out. But I don't know how to leave the family, once you are in, the other families and gangs don't necessarily care if you try to leave the life of a mobster, they still see you as a threat. The only way to really do it is to completely disappear from the face of the planet, and hope no one recognizes you.
The threats to my life and my father's life are real. My own mother was killed when I was a child as revenge for cutting off income to a low income area after they'd failed to provide the funds for protection for local gangs, and they killed my mom to get revenge on my father for not protecting them.
The problem is, my father is a penny pinching tightwad, he has no compassion for anyone, and he's all about money. You don't pay, he doesn't play. Period. Because of it, since my mom's death, he won't let me go anywhere, ever by myself.
I want out. The problem is, I don't know how to get out without help, and no one seems to want to go against my father. I finished high school, but I struggled to get through college, the teachers were scared of me, the police watched my every move, it became too much to even go outside of my front door. Add in the mixed race factor, and I got judged by everyone. It made life suck. I just wanted to be like everyone else.
Do you know what it's like to be a half Russian black woman? Not only do I have ice blue eyes, but I'm tall and lanky, with my mother's coloring. I draw attention wherever I go, and even if I wasn't the daughter of a Mobster, I would stand out in a crowd. I also have a thick, Russian accent... which coming from the mouth of a black woman definitely is hard to make you forgettable. Add in the two burly bodyguards who never leave my side and I get stared at like I'm a foreign princess or something. Only scary.
When I was young, I used to be vaguely amused at everyone's over reaction of giving me space, offering me things, pretending to respect me because of my father and my body guards. As I grew older I realized that it wasn't the kind of respect I wanted. Fear is not a good reason to have someone be nice to you. You never know who your real friends are.
My best friend hasn't even talked to me in almost two years because she got shot at the last time we went to a club together. Here I am, a twenty-four year old virgin, with two useless degrees in school, which I can't use because I can't go to work without bodyguards following me everywhere.
When I complained to my father, he told me to deal with it, or he could lock me in my room until I'd see things his way. I'm not in a hurry to die, and watching my mother die in front of me gave me a healthy appreciation for the need of bodyguards, I am not stupid.
But I sure wish I could have a different life.
I have no desire to follow in my father's footsteps, all I ever really wanted to do was be a mother, have a little house, maybe have a dog or two, and have a good, loving husband who doesn't feel the need to be involved in illegal activities. Is a good man really too much to ask for? One that chooses to be on the right side of the law?
I was planning on trying to figure out a way to escape my guards, going out on an adventure by myself, but my plans got screwed up.
I'd made it all the way to the end of my driveway in my car, and was planning on driving to a big, populated area and then ditching my car; I was so close to freedom I could almost taste it. From there, I was going to take a cab or a bus and just going somewhere I'd never been, wandering around, experiencing something new. But what played out in front of me was something I'll never forget.
My bodyguards blocked my car in, and dragged me out of my car, lecturing me on going on an unapproved trip without them, and even trying to leave the property without permission. I'm a prisoner in my own home.
Frustrated, I went back to the house with them and started trashing my room in disgust and anger that they all but forced me to stay like a little girl in the pink and white room that reminded me of the young girl I no longer was.
I was a grown up, yet I couldn't even go to the mall alone if I wanted too.
Riiiiiiiiip. With a smile of satisfaction, my pink and white ruffled curtains came down in a shredded mess as the curtain rod popped out of the wall and landed on the carpet with a thud. I stomped it into the ground, which satisfaction I felt at that moment of immaturity inspired me to what I did next.
With delight for complete and utter destruction I spent two to three hours just destroying everything about my room. Smashing pictures, and tearing up books, all the figurines of horses and princesses my father had collected for me over the years ended up broken and smashed against the wall. The mirror on my vanity shattered into a thousand pieces when I threw one of my books at it.
Satisfied with my handiwork, I went to find my father to tell him of my little tantrum that had put me on the warpath and that I wouldn't be sleeping in my room anymore until he fixed it.
What I wasn't expecting was the gorgeous tall man standing in my father's study with him calmly discussing family business, and how we were in the middle of a war with a rival mob family and they'd put a hit out on my life. I tried to ignore him. I had no interest in anyone associated with my father. But he sure was cute.