Page 2 of Mafia Christmas Vows

I don’t know why I’m telling her this.

Heck, she probably already knows.

Maybe I just need to talk about it.

You probably do.

I’m like… partway to completing a degree to be a licensed psychologist. I like to talk about my feelings. I need to talk about my feelings.

Especially after having a bunch of men appear at my apartment, telling me that my mom is in hiding and that I need to come with them to safety.

Granted, it was about six months ago that the house burned down. So I’ve done my best with moving on from that.

The rest of it?

Still grappling with all of that.

The flight attendant doesn’t make a comment, but gives me a bland smile instead.

“So,” I say, shuffling awkwardly. “Do you work for my father, or…”

“No. I am with Mr. Orlov.”

Ice creeps down my spine. “Oh,” I murmur.

Her smile brightens. “Yes. Please. This way,” she gestures to the airport exit.

My heart slams in my chest.

I wish I could call my mom. I did FaceTime with her, before I left. She seems fine. She assured me that she was okay, and that I should do whatever my bio dad was telling me to do.

I believed her.

Now, I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have.

“Miss?”

The flight attendant is staring at me.

I nod.

Meekly, I walk toward the airport exit.

You’re here to stay safe. To keep you and your mom safe. You’re here to keep them from coming for you.

It’s the logic that I’ve been following this whole time. If I go through with this, if I do what my dad laid out for me, then we’ll be safe.

No one will come to burn down our house. No one will follow me around campus. No one will hurt my mom.

Safe.

And if it means that I have to marry a stranger to do it, then so be it.

I haven’t felt safe in months. Not since I saw the pictures of my childhood home on the news, reduced to ashes.

Not since my mom told me that she was trying to hide, and that she’d tell me more when she could.

Safety has been an illusion for a while now.

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