Page 44 of Disgraced (Russian Sinners 3)

Probably not, I scoffed. The tattoos covering his neck were a bit too much, although interesting.

“Hello,” I finally broke our staring contest. “Who are you?”

“Michail.” Well, that was short and sweet. No chitchatting with this dude, that was for sure.

“Are you here to see my father?” I asked.

“No.”

I rolled my eyes at him. Whatever. I wouldn’t get any information from this guy. Regularly, this guy would be scary as shit. But I grew up among scary as shit men so I was rather used to it. And I was on my dad’s turf, so he couldn’t touch me

“Okay, then,” I told him. “I’m going in. Bye.”

He said nothing, just watched me. When I turned away from him and headed for the house, I heard him say something in a foreign language. I swore it sounded like Russian, and it made me wonder what my father was up to.

As soon as I entered the house, Seamus, my dad’s oldest friend, greeted me. Those two grew up together on the streets of Dublin and came to the States together. You’d think they were real brothers.

“Hello, Uncle Seamus,” I greeted him. I learned later in life they weren’t real brothers, but by that time, the Uncle title had stuck; there was no sense in changing it.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greeted me with a kiss on a cheek.

“Having guests?” I asked, and he raised his eyebrow.

“No, why do you ask?” There was a true surprise in his voice, throwing me off.

Well, that is weird, I thought to myself. I glanced over my shoulder and sure as shit, that black Aston Martin still sat there. Michail was nowhere in sight but there wasn’t doubt in my mind that he was lurking nearby somewhere. But I wouldn’t get into a debate with my uncle. I learned a long time ago debating with Uncle Seamus nor my father accomplished anything.

My eyes returned back to my uncle, and I shrugged my shoulder. “No reason,” I told him. “I’m going to find Mom.”

“Sounds good,” he retorted.

I always knew where to find her. I headed for the library and sure enough, she was in there, reading her books. Her small frame cuddled on the corner of the couch, a book in her hands. Her hair always amazed me. It was in a perfect bun, not a strand out of place. My hair, on the other hand, was always a huge mess. I had too much hair. Although I inherited my mother’s dark hair color, unfortunately it wasn’t as smooth nor fine as hers. My hair had a mind of its own.

“Hey Mom,” I called out to her as soon as I entered, not wanting to scare her.

She always hung out here, while dad was in his office. Coincidently, his office was connected to the library. I think she purposely did that when she designed the house. Those two always wanted to be close to each other; it was quite disturbing.

Her light blue eyes raised to me and her lips curved into a big smile. That was another thing I didn’t inherit, her blue eyes. Instead they were dark, like my father’s.

“Scarlett,” she called out, her hand reaching for me.

I briskly walked over to her and took her hand. Although I wanted nothing to do with my family’s business and that way of life, I still loved all of them. They were part of me, just as I was part of them.

I leaned over and placed a kiss on her lips, the smell of cinnamon drifting to my senses. My mom was a baker before she met dad. To this day, she still loved to bake, so it seemed to me she always smelled like cinnamon.

“I missed you,” I muttered against her cheek.

And I really missed her; I just avoided coming home more and more as I grew older. When I found out that Dad arranged for me to marry some stranger, a business colleague, I ensured being home was a rarity. I was furious with him for doing something like that to me.

“We missed you too, sweetie.” My mom’s voice was soft. “You have been avoiding us.”

Yeah, no shit. I wanted to make sure I stayed as far as possible, not wanting to risk running into whatever man my father decided I should marry. Yeah, fuck that crap.

I still wasn’t sure how I’d get out of it but there was no way I’d marry a perfect stranger. It was a ridiculous notion that he would have thought that was acceptable even, in today’s day and age.

But here we were, both Olivia and I. Although, it would seem my situation was slightly better than Olivia’s. That fucking monster should be executed on the spot.

Well, now I’m thinking as the mobster's daughter, I thought wryly to myself. Bloodthirsty and vengeful, how perfect.

---