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Chapter Six
VERA
My eyes flutter open to the sound of banging against my door. It is the third time I have heard the insistent banging this week, and I know I am going to have to do something about it. What the actual fuck is going on?
I grab my cell and dial one of my men. I bought a couple of the home surrounding mine so I could have my gang nearby when I needed them. This would be a job for two of my men, one of them being the newbie that clawed his way to victory a few nights ago. It won’t exactly be a loss if he gets shot by whoever thinks they have the right to be at my door. No one comes to me directly. They know to get a meeting, and that’s if I will even grant one.
"There is a banging at the door. It has happened before, and either there better be a fucking good reason, or I better have the person’s head on a platter within the hour!" I bark into the phone in annoyance, trying to be heard over the noise. I roll my eyes and head to the closet to get dressed after hanging up. Who knows if I would be needed after all? I couldn’t exactly greet anyone in a thing and tee shirt, even if it would be distracting for half a second.
Instead, I go for something business, a button down that makes my breasts feel like they might pop out at any moment and a pair of nice jeans, ankle high boots to top it off.
I look in the mirror and grimace at my fucking hair, though. I am a restless sleeper, and I wake up to a blonde rat’s nest each morning no matter what I do. Half the time it’s easier just to stick it up and make it look like I meant it to be that way. So, that’s exactly what I do. Some eyeliner and lip gloss, and then I'm done. I can look good, drop dead gorgeous if I fucking want to, but I am not that woman, worrying over every part of her face and having all the right brands of makeup. There are more important things to do with money. Besides, that spot is already taken by my beautiful best friend, Olena. Though, she’d never accept a compliment like that, not from me. She’s always been jealous of my curves.
My phone rings, and this is the first time I notice the pounding has stopped. I answer it. "Did you take care of the fucking problem?" I hiss into the receiver. I can hear the apprehension in the man’s voice...Vanko, I think his name is.
"Mic Vera, there is a young girl out here, asking to speak with you. She says that it is urgent. We found her on the ground, banging at the bottom of the door. She has no weapons. What should we do?"
I am not caught off guard very often, but this one takes the cake. I have no idea what game Glib is playing if he sent some little girl to me to bother me, but just because she is young or a woman does not mean I am going to show mercy if I find out she does work for him after all. And if she doesn't, then she better have a fucking good reason for crawling her way here.
"Let her in, keep her restrained. Bring her into my office," I order, going into the small room I made into an office; a place to run the business side of being a gang leader in the Ukraine. We have to make money somehow, after all, so the place is piled high with paperwork, and a long laptop sits closed on the side of my desk.
I don’t bother sitting as they all come in. I am instantly on this girl, circling around her harshly. My eyes don’t soften even when my heart does. She has to be maybe sixteen, seventeen, or maybe she’s older and malnourished. She wears a simple blue dress, but it is in bad shape, and her face is dirty. She has long hair in tangles to her ass. This could have been me several years ago, and it is horrible memories that rush through my head as I give the appearance of sizing her up.
Her lips are trembling, and I can tell she is frightened. I go and sit behind my desk, trying not to appear too soft as I ask her, "What is it you want from me, little one. You have been awfully fucking persistent to get ahold of the Mic of the Ukraine. What makes you think you have the right, a little slob like you?" I try not to wince at my own words as on the inside I am hurting for her. I can tell she has been through something, and I can only guess at what she might want from me.
"Excuse me, Mic, I am s..s..sorry, but I am desperate," she says. Her voice is soft and deep. It has this husky quality that is well beyond her years. I bet the men that she probably has to bed get a kick out of that. Because that is clearly the only way for a girl like her to make it on her own out there. And I don’t think there is anyone that is going to come looking for her. "I need protection. And, there was a rumor, a rumor that you saved a little boy and his sister. I cannot have this life anymore. It makes me not want to live."
I too have felt that way so many times since the day my father put me on the streets, not a care in the world as to what happened to the extra mouth to feed he left alone. I lean back in my seat, and I have a vision, one I have had many times. I have always wanted to run a brothel as a legitimate business and be a Madame. If run right, the girls would be clean, safe, healthy, and happy. It didn’t have to eb the way it was on the streets. Russia...they go into the Czech Republic all the time and pick up girls and monetize them, often in a much more humane way than even a legitimate company would. But I have never felt I have enough resources or power. But maybe this can be a start. And just maybe I can have an heir to my kingdom. it’s not like I see myself being a mother. This is as close as I will get, and what is a diabolical leader without a protégé?
"Do you think you have what it takes to learn to do what I do and more?" I ask her straight up, a frown on my face as I glare into her eyes. She has to know I am serious. "Otherwise, you are no use to me. You do as I say, I make your life worth living."
She nods, almost in tears, and I nod to my two men. "Get her cleaned up."
I rub my hands together in excitement as they leave the room. This girl could be sexy, smart, and ruthless, and I will teach her to be all that and more as long as she is loyal.
I am finally building my own family.
