Page 8 of Mafia Christmas Vows

The only woman who has known me since my own childhood. Who raised me after my mother’s death.

Who often takes liberties she should not when it comes to our relationship… and yet I allow her to do it anyway.

Guilt wiggles into my stomach, but I open the phone.

Elena: Young man. The girl is lonely and sad.

Me: Comfort her.

Elena: She longs for her husband to come and meet her.

Me: I’m busy.

Elena: Did I raise you to be such a hard-hearted man? Oh, what have I done?. My poor heart. You do not know the depth of my sorrow, seeing you turn out to be such an icy, cold, callous…

I place the phone face down while her words continue to flow onto the page. Finally I sigh, denying her the pleasure of reading the long paragraph of words that are still scrolling through her text.

Me: Fine. I will come home.

Elena: Oh, my sweet boy. I knew you were not as hard-hearted as you believe. I will make your favorite for dinner, and I will tell the girl the joyous news.

My nostrils flare as I put the phone down.

I don’t want to go back to Orlov House before the holidays. The memories are too thick. I will choke on them. However, the other option is to stay here, in the penthouse in Novgorod.

The snow falling outside creates a sense of isolation. The darkness and silence in the house makes it feel even more so.

Loneliness, pinched and pointed, stabs into my heart.

Sighing, I grab my computer. If I am to return to Orlov House, I will do so for a short time. I have too much going on at the moment to bother entertaining a simpering American woman, who is more likely to freeze in the Russian weather than she is to give me what I want.

Perhaps agreeing to take her as a wife was a poor choice indeed.

However, I am not interested in hunting for a wife. Having one fall into my lap was too convenient, and I will not turn her and everything she represents aside just because of my own discomfort.

I will not be the one who ends the legacy, and I will not lose Orlov House.

A few days. Just to settle her in. Just to ease Elena’s guilt. Then, you can return.

Spending Christmas alone is not new to me.

In fact, I relish it.

The idea of facing a holiday in Orlov House?

That, I cannot do.

MAGGIE

Three days.

That’s how long I’ve been sitting in this giant-ass house. Alone. Well, not entirely alone. The housekeeper and the other staff have been really, really nice. Elena in particular has been awesome. She speaks English, if a little haltingly, but she reminds me of like… an angry grandmother.

She’s definitely Russian. No doubts about that. I’ve been bullied into eating beet soup and wearing about a dozen thick layers of clothing, even though I’m definitely not that cold.

The soup was kind of good, though. I won’t deny that.

However, it’s been three days and I have no idea what my future husband, or fiancé, or whatever he is, even looks like.

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