Page 20 of Promised to the Killer

In some ways, it’s better than living in my father’s house. Outside of this brothel, I’m worthless. At least I have a place here. I chew my lip nervously before I hurry past the bathroom, out the side door, and around the building to the front office.

I can see them through the big window. My papa paces in front of the counter while Enzo leans back chewing at a toothpick. I hesitate, glancing at the parking lot, half hoping I’d see Maxim’s car parked somewhere close, but he’s not there. Lamplight reflects off the pavement, and my footsteps slosh through puddles. The girls need me and I have to get back quickly, so I stomp through the water and soak my sneakers. They’ll dry out later. I look over my shoulder one last time, but there’s only a client parking his Jeep.

A strange disappointment spreads like a bloom in my gut.

Maxim was only one night. I need to keep telling myself that. So we ran into each other by accident and he stopped Zarita from hitting me—so what?

He pities me and nothing more.

I push into the office and Papa stops pacing. Enzo glowers at me and sneers like he smells something bad.

I sniff the air discreetly. It’s not me, whatever it is.

I stand with my back straight and my hands clasped in my lap.

“We need to speak about what happened earlier,” Papa says, staring at me.

“Yes, Papa.” I lower my chin. I’ll pretend to be a good, obedient daughter, and hopefully he’ll let me off without asking too many questions. I’ll lie to him, even if I don’t want to. Lying doesn’t seem so bad these days, although I know he’ll hurt me very badly if he catches me.

“That man you saw earlier. The Russian with the blue eyes. Do you know him?”

I shake my head. “No, Papa. He’s a stranger.”

Papa grunts softly. Enzo tosses the toothpick onto the floor.

“He looked at you like he knew you,” Enzo says angrily. “He stopped Zarita from punishing you properly. I find it hard to believe Maxim Novalov would care about some random jizz cleaner.”

I grimace at his description. It’s not wrong, just crude. “I don’t know why he did what he did,” I say, which is the truth. I have no clue why Maxim stepped up and made Zarita stop, or why he stormed out afterwards. I don’t know Maxim at all.

We only shared one single night of pleasure, and that’s it.

So why is he stuck in my brain like a song playing on repeat? The smell of him, musky and sweet, and the taste of him, like grass and fresh dew licked from a honeysuckle? I don’t want these things, but they’re mine and they won’t leave me alone.

Papa steps closer. He looms over me and I look up at him shyly, hoping he won’t strike me. He keeps his hands behind his back and his lips pulled down into an uncertain frown, and I know what he’s thinking. How could his daughter know Maxim Novalov? What did I do to draw his attention? How will I ruin his plans?

Because I always do. That’s all I am, a nuisance and a problem.

“Maxim will be back,” Papa says slowly. “When he comes, I don’t want you anywhere near him. Do you understand me? The Novalov family is important, and the business connection we’re building with them might help raise our status in this world.”

“I understand, Papa.”

“Good. Now. Zarita tells me you’ve been derelict in your duties.”

I glance over at her, eyes wide. The lying bitch. I’ve done nothing but slave away for her, cleaning whatever needs cleaning, helping the girls with their problems both physical and emotional, and cooking every meal diligently. I’m the first awake and the last in bed and my knees ache and my back hurts from bending over and scraping out toilets all day.

And she tells my papa I’m not working hard enough?

Zarita only smiles at me. She knows who has the power here. My wet sneaker scrapes across the cheap linoleum floor and I want to charge her like a bull. Instead, I only shake my head.

“I’m working hard, Papa.”

His lips curl. “I’m sure you think so, Siena, but you’ve been spoiled. I told Zarita to make sure she beats that out of you.”

“And I will obey my Don,” Zarita says with a nod.

I want to scream in her face. I hate her, but I also pity her. She’s an old whore, and old whores don’t age well. She lost everything that gave her value a long time ago—her body, her wit, her ability to seduce a man. Now she’s reduced to running this place like a manager and to taking my father’s commands. I know taking power over me and the other girls is all she has in this world, but she doesn’t need to relish it so much.

“Very good,” Papa says, turning away. “You’re dismissed, Siena. Make sure you never see that man Maxim again.”

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