Page 237 of Filthy Feck


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“Unlikely.”

“What does that mean?”

“He thought he was dying and he was worried about your safetywhilehe thought he was dying.” She hitched a shoulder. “As much as you disapprove of my disrespectful undertones when speaking of the mafia, I’d watch myself if I were you. The minute you turn eighteen…”

She let her words drift away with her as she left me alone to retreat to the window where she peered out of the shutters. I watched her position herself just to the side, much as Eoghan did.

Not allowing anyone to take a direct hit at them through the glass.

I couldn’t imagine living my life that way even though I was a pawn in a wider game I had no control of. As much as my life had changed with Papa’s death, that truth hadn’t altered any.

Daughters were the vessels of an alliance.

Two years…

Seven-hundred-and-thirty days until I was eighteen.

Inessa had gotten married on her eighteenth birthday. It had led us down a road that was the best thing that could have ever happened to us, but I wasn’t her. I wanted options, just…

My hands balled into fists as I snuck out to use the restroom.

Locking the door behind me, I leaned back against it and drew out my phone.

Me:I heard you were sick. Are you all right?

As always, he didn’t take long to reply.

Maxim:Not sick, katyonok. Just managed to get into a scrape.

Me:From what I heard, it sounded serious.

Maxim:It was more serious than I’d have liked but I’m okay.

Maxim:Thank you for asking.

Me:If I’d known, I’d have asked sooner.

Maxim:Is that a reprimand I hear, katyonok?

My cheeks flushed.

Me:Yes.

Maxim:The kitten has claws.

My other hand balled into a fist.

Me:Do you have a problem with that?

Maxim:Why would I?

Me:My father would have.

Maxim:Your father was a mudak.

Me:You wouldn’t have called him a shithead if he were alive.

Maxim:He isn’t though, is he?

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