Page 5 of Beautiful Deception

Ever since Elena married Aiden Murphy, my father hasn’t let me see her. He claims it’s too dangerous, now that she married a hitman. I didn’t argue as arguing with my father never gets me anywhere.

“We should leave then,” I murmur. “I’m more worried for you. Viktor knows you tried to steal from him. He’ll be coming for you.”

He hesitates.

“Dad?”

“I didn’t just try to steal from him.”

My legs almost buckle out from under me. “What else did you try to do?” I’m terrified of the answer.

“I tried to kill him,” he admits.

My legs do end up buckling and I practically fall onto the couch. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I thought that if he were dead, he’d be easier to steal from.”

“Oh my god.” I love my dad but sometimes, he can be such an idiot. This isn’t the first time he has disappointed me.

“I’m sorry, Inessa. But we need to leave. Now. Pack as many things as you can.” He runs out of the room.

I grew up knowing my father was a Bratva man. The Russian Mafia. I was prepared for a lot of things – marriage and death being the main two – but I could never be prepared for this constant state of anxiety inside of me.

The constant fear that I’ll get a call that my father is found dead in a ditch due to all of his gambling. That he upset the wrong person.

Well, now he’s done exactly that. If Viktor finds us - if he’s anything like any of the Bratva men I’ve met - he won’t hesitate to kill my father. He might spare me but I’ll be without any money. Without any protection. I could turn to Elena for help and I’m sure she’d offer it but I would feel like a terrible friend relying on her when it’s up to me to help myself.

It’s always been up to me.

I pack up some clothes and makeup and skincare and call it good. I don’t need a lot as I don’t have a lot.

“Let’s go,” Dad says, hurrying out the front door. I look back at our house once I’m outside. Will this be the last time I ever see it?

“Inessa.”

Right. We have to hurry.

We drive to a motel across the city that takes cash and settle in for the night. I don’t mind the shabbiness of the place as I’ve never really been used to luxury anyway.

“Thank god.” Dad slumps onto one of the two beds and lets out a sigh. “We made it. We actually made it.”

“But Dad… how much money do you currently have?”

He opens his wallet and pulls out a few bills. “Only a hundred dollars.”

“That’s it? That won’t even get us to the end of the week. The motel is forty dollars a night.”

“I know,” he snaps, shooting me a glare. “Don’t you think I don’t know that?”

“I’m not sure. You’re pretty keen about gambling a lot of our money away. I’m not sure if you’re aware of the bad situation we’re in.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. I am your dad. Show me some respect.”

“You put us into this mess,” I say in a quiet voice. “And you know it. So don’t say those things to me.”

His eyes scrunch up tight before he begins to cry. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just scared.”

I find myself sitting down beside him and pulling him into a hug as ifhe’sthe one who needs comfort. As if he’s the child and I’m the parent.

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