Page 58 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

I ambled over to the recliner and, picking up the coat, I inhaled it. It still had Dad’s signature musky leather scent on it. It still had his sweat stains and a packet of cigarettes he hadn’t touched in his pocket.

Tears flooded my vision, and my chest grew heavy.

I missed Dad. I missed him so much. It had been two months since he died, and a part of me was still hopeful it was all a lie. I had always seen how people faked their deaths in movies, and I wished he would come back and tell me it was all a fabrication—that he wasn’t really dead—but I knew that would never happen.

Bringing him back was impossible, but I was going to do everything to find the people who murdered him and make them pay.

That was a promise.

Dad, if you can hear me, I promise to make sure whoever did that to you is punished. It’s a promise from your little girl.

Hugging his coat and inhaling the scent that I’d missed so much, I laid down on his bed and cried myself to sleep.

***

It was already mid-afternoon by the time I woke up to my phone buzzing under the pillow.

I pulled it out and gasped when Mom’s number flashed on my screen. She was requesting to FaceTime me, and it was the first time since she’d left for Oregon.

My mother could always sense when something was wrong. She could for as long as I could remember.

Jumping out of bed and running to the bathroom, I quickly washed my face and dried it with a towel. I peered into the moon-shaped mirror on the wall for any signs that my eyes were swollen and sighed gratefully when it was only red from crying and sleeping.

Mom picked up on everything, but I could easily lie that I was just sleeping, and that wasn’t even exactly a lie.

There were already two missed calls from her when I returned to Dad’s bedroom and picked my phone up to call her back.

She answered on the first ring, flashing a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. Her light brown eyes had sunken, and she had eyebags, probably from lack of sleep or crying, maybe both.

The shirt she wore had been given to her by Dad on what was supposed to be their anniversary a year ago. It usually fit her tightly, but now it appeared to be at least two sizes bigger than her.

Seeing her this way broke something inside me. I couldn’t bear how much she was suffering. Dad’s death affected her a great deal, and while she refused to admit it, I knew she was in so much pain from losing him.

I smiled so she wouldn’t see that I was sad, too. I didn’t want her to worry about me.

“Hi, Mom,” I greeted.

Her smile grew wider. “Hi, pumpkin.” She gave me a good stare and knitted her brows inquisitively. “I was afraid you’d look terrible from grieving, but you’re glowing.”

I chuckled and tucked my hair behind my ear. “Am I?”

She nodded. “I’m so happy to talk to you on Facetime. I’m happy you don’t look down, either. I was worried since you’re alone there, and I know you miss your father a lot.”

Honestly, if I didn’t have Andrei, then I would have probably been curled up in my apartment, refusing to eat or do anything. I’d never said it to him, but Dad’s death wasn’t pulling me down so much because I had him. He gave me something to channel my grief on, and I would forever be grateful to him for it.

“I know. There’s something I need to tell you, and I will, but when we meet. Okay?”

She pouted playfully. “Why can’t you tell me now?”

“Because it’s not something we can discuss on the phone.” And I wanted to be there to see her reaction. I knew she was going to hate it when I broke the news to her because of how much she hated the Bratva, but I was married to Andrei already, and she wouldn’t have a choice but to accept him. Not that he would let me get a divorce even if I wanted it.

The only way our relationship was going to end was if he didn’t want me anymore, and Andrei didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would be inconsistent enough to not want to own me for the rest of his life.

“Are you dating?” she asked. “Engaged?”

More like married, but I nodded. “Something close. It’s not anything bad, trust me.”

At least it wasn’t. If things remained like this, and I could find Dad’s murderers, I knew I would have a happy life with Andrei.

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