Page 1 of Mafia Christmas Vows

MAGGIE

You know, if I squint and keep my headphones on, it looks festive out.

There’s big flakes of snow drifting down from a cozy-looking grey sky. The air is crisp, and the little lights along the airport’s runway look like Christmas lights, because they’re blinking a very festive red and green, depending on what they’re trying to do for the pilots.

If I try hard enough, I could definitely pretend that I’m back home in Des Moines. That I’m just heading home from college, and when I get there, my mom is going to have my favorite Christmas movie on and all the hot cocoa that I can drink waiting for me.

A stab of grief, however, shatters that illusion just as the announcements from the flight attendants blare in English and Russian over the speakers on the plane.

There is no house to go back to.

My mom is in hiding.

And apparently, the only reason I’m here is because my biological father made a deal with the devil to keep me from meeting the same fiery fate as the house.

The people around me jostle and grab their bags. Russian, thick and dark, flows around me in a river of words that I don’t even come close to understanding.

I don’t speak Russian.

Despite the fact that I’m evidently very much half-Russian.

“Miss?” the flight attendant blinks at me. I’m fairly sure that my father assigned her (or paid her, or bribed her, or whatever) to look after me. Since the second I got on this plane she’s been watching me like a hawk.

And, I saw her texting someone earlier after taking a picture of me, so...

Yeah.

It’s either that, or she’s a member of the rival gang that’s the whole reason I’m in this situation to begin with.

I sigh, grabbing my lone piece of luggage. “Yeah. I’m here. I’m guessing you want me to follow you?”

Her cheeks get a little red, but she nods.

“Well, let’s get this over with,” I mutter.

I follow the flight attendant and exit the plane.

We don’t talk. But she somehow manages to stay with me through customs, where she takes the papers my sperm donor dad provided for me and does some fast-talking with thecustoms officer. He takes one look at my visa, and the color runs out of his face completely.

Great.

That’s just freaking…

Great.

I mean, I know how he feels. I felt that way when I saw my biological father for the first time too.

“This way, please?” The flight attendant gestures toward the baggage area.

I follow her.

“Your bag?”

“Don’t have one,” I say, sighing.

She gives me a raised eyebrow, but I shrug. “Look, I didn’t exactly have time to pack. This whole thing happened fast. Viktor… dad… just came to the apartment and…”

My jaws snap shut.

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