Page 109 of Possessive Mafia Bodyguard

She shakes her head slowly. “You still think that you can ask the questions?”

“No, I just want to know when the person in charge around here is going to be brave enough to show his face.”

I can see that I’ve hit a nerve when her eyes narrow. She slides a slim dagger from her jacket pocket and licks it, taking her time, enjoying the effect it has on me. “Pakhan is taking care of his personal affairs. He will come to you when he is ready.”

“Pakhan? What does that mean?”

“It means the man in charge, as you put it.”

“So, he has me kidnapped, keeps me in his basement, and doesn’t even have the decency to come and speak to me himself. He can’t want me that badly.”

Her mouth contorts into another unpleasant smile. “He doesn’t want you at all, printzessa. You are simply a means to an end.”

She walks to the door and hesitates, turning around to face me, confident that I won’t dare to attack her a second time. “There is a bathroom through there.” She indicates a second door next to the bed that I hadn’t even noticed. “I suggest you freshen up before Pakhan returns. He likes his women clean.”

She locks the door behind her when she leaves, and I realize that she didn’t even tell me her name.

In the compact but clean bathroom, I splash my face with cold water and check out the purple bruising blossoming across my jawline. I’ll have to be more careful next time, perhaps even find something in the room to use as a makeshift weapon. She made it obvious that she isn’t afraid to use violence, but I still believe that she’s under orders to keep me alive.

The question is: whose orders?

Checking out my reflection in the mirror, I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. My hair is matted from sleep, my face is pale, and my eyes have the haunted look that I saw in the faces of the women who came to the refuge.

“Come on, Gianna, stay strong.” I force myself to smile. “You’re a Sedric, and don’t you forget it. This pakhan likes his women clean, so clean is what he’s going to get.”

I scrub my face until it glows. The mottled bruising on my jaw is growing darker by the second, but I intend to wear it like a medal and show him that it will take more than a bruise to keep me down. I strip off my clothes and wash as best I can with the facilities provided.

When I go back to the other room, a crisp white dress trimmed with tiny black gems has been laid out on the bed for me. I approach it with caution. It isn’t the pakhan choosing my clothes that bothers me, it’s that I never heard someone enter the room.

Leonid

My parents’ palatial property should still feel like my childhood home, but it has been many years since I’ve been able to appreciate its splendor. Decades. Tonight, it feels like the kind of place I need to enter, carry out my duties, and leave again with as much haste as is acceptable without appearing disrespectful.

As always, I stand on the threshold, straighten my suit jacket, and run my fingers through my thick black hair.

“Here. Let me.” Tamara stands in front of me and straightens my tie, poking the dimple with her index finger, her lips quirked up in a lopsided smile. “Almost perfect.” She stands back to admire the view.

“Almost?” I arch an eyebrow.

“A smile would help, Pakhan.” She forces my lips upwards with her fingers, and I immediately drop it again.

“I will smile when I have something to smile about.”

“Says the man who has everything.”

She stands aside and waits for me to step inside first. The conversation is over, and as usual, she had the last word. It’s a skill that both sisters have perfected over the years, and one which irritates me more than I have ever let on. To anyone.

In the foyer, the polished marble floor gleams like a mirror, reflecting the light bouncing off the heavy crystal chandelier hanging high above our heads. The walls are polished wooden panels, each object on display chosen for its jewel-like vibrancy and history. Two Fabergé eggs, one in sapphire blue with an elaborate golden filigree design, the other in gold and silver. There are goblets and plates, imperial statuettes, and glossy feline ornaments studded with diamonds. My mother’s personal collection, and the only part of the house in which my father has no input.

My mother makes a grand entrance on the sweeping staircase wearing a floor-length ivory gown, the collar encrusted with tiny shimmering gems.

“Leonid.” Her face lights up as she approaches me and presents her cheeks for me to kiss. “And Tamara. Look at you. You grow more beautiful with every passing day.” She pinches Tamara’s cheeks leaving behind the imprint of her fingernails on the pale flesh.

“Thank you, Mama.” Anyone else would’ve had their hand batted away before it came anywhere near Tamara’s face, but she accepts my mother’s greeting with reverence and respect.

We have never spoken about what fate might’ve befallen them had I not discovered the twins in the shipping container that day. But they remember enough. That kind of childhood can never be erased.

“Leonid.” My mother’s eyes glitter. “Your father⁠—”