Page 9 of Knocked up by the Mafia

I can tell that she wants to tell Ivan Volkov what is happening, but she wisely chooses not to. I can’t believe she doesn’t realize the whole house, including her phone, is bugged. I’m not a complete idiot. I’d like to know if she plans to kill me so I can make the first move.

I’m not some lad from the streets that’s been paid off to shoot someone and leave a mess. I’m a professional. I have been doing this since I was ten years old, trained from birth.

My family isn’t what you’d call wholesome, and we’re definitely not like the Italian and Russian families I’ve had dealings with.

I listen to her conversation carefully. Ivan mentions a code word, but she doesn’t seem to say it because he doesn’t sound like he’s rushing to save her.

I have a camera in her room and bathroom, but I am disinclined to watch them until I hear her getting sick. I check the cameras on my phone and see her leaning over the toilet. I don’t go in because I don’t know if it’s a ruse to lower my guard.

I watch her get back into bed and fall asleep again. It’s getting dark, and I suspect she’s out for the night. I unlock her room silently and walk in. She doesn’t stir, and I stand in the doorway for some time before I cross her room and sit in the armchair by the window. It’s facing her bed, and I watch her sleep. She looks a bit peaky in the moonlight, and I wonder if she really is unwell. I’ll make sure she eats in the morning.

I watch as her chest slowly rises and falls, and I remember sitting up in my bed in the apartment and groping, sucking, licking, and biting on her breasts and nipples. They were slightly more than a handful, the perfect size. They were firm and perky but definitely not fake. I’ve fucked enough women with fake tits to tell the difference.

She shifts in the bed, and I remain still. She settles, and I remember spreading her legs and making love to her wet, shaved pussy. It had been delicious and intoxicating. As my mind plays the mental images back to me, I can feel my dick starting to grow stiff.

I want to go over to the bed and lie beside her. I want to slip my hand between her legs and finger her to orgasm while she sleeps. Even better, I’d like her to wake up to ride my face and suck my dick.

I get up quickly and cross the room because if I don’t leave now, I might lose the one decent side of me. I don’t take advantage of women. My ma raised me that way, and I don’t intend to disgrace her memory now.

I walk toward the main bedroom, where I’ve unpacked my things. My phone dings in my pocket. One high-pitched ding. The sensors in the garden have been triggered because someone has jumped over the wall. I whip out my phone and thank Mick for making so much effort. I hit the notification. The perp’s by the kitchen, in the back. He’s just gone over the wall and creeping toward the back door. The lights are off; he won’t even see me coming.

I grab my gun. I’d personally engineered my silencer to dull the sound a lot more than usual silencers. People will hear a small bang, but not an alarming one.

I walk down the hallway and into the kitchen. I stand behind the door and wait calmly. I know better than to make a premature move. Rather lie in wait than give away your position and risk yourself.

The door handle jingles, and then I hear the scraping of lock-picking tools. The door swings open, and the figure slowly steps inside. He has a gun extended in front of him. Idiot. He has a gun and doesn’t even inspect his surroundings.

As he walks past me, I raise my gun and pull the trigger.

He crumples to the ground. I’ll have someone pick up the body. No, I don’t want people to know I’m here. I’ll bury him out back.

I take out my phone and check the camera’s around the house carefully. He seems to be alone. To be safe, I wait three hours before dragging his body out of the house. It takes time to dig a deep enough grave, but this isn’t my first rodeo, and I am not unfit.

I shove his body into the grave and bury it under a mound of sand before I go back inside. I’m surprised the bang didn’t wake Natalia, or maybe it did, and she just doesn’t want to know what it’s about.

After reactivating the outside sensors, I check on her via the camera in her room. It isn’t the same as physically being there, but I see that she’s only changed position on the bed to her side, nothing more.

I drag an armchair to the kitchen and sit there with my gun. I allow myself to doze lightly until seven in the morning. That’s when my phone’s alarm buzzes me awake. I leave the armchair, start the coffee machine, and take things out for breakfast.

I started cooking, not something I often do now but something I used to do every day with Ma. She loved ourspecialtime together when we cooked, and she could impart her lessons on me, not just the ones my father wanted me to know.

I hear the kitchen door open, but I don’t turn around. I’m not afraid of her hurting me. She knows my name is protecting her.

She comes in and looks around.

“There’s coffee in the corner, mugs in the cupboard above it. Breakfast will be ready in ten, and yes, you have to eat, lass.”

She mumbles something, and then I don’t hear another sound. I glance back and see her staring at the armchair in the corner.

“Did you sleep in here?” she asks, looking at me strangely.

I shrug. “I like to rotate through rooms. It keeps people guessing.”

She shakes her head and pours herself some coffee. She sips it and smacks her lips, “At least the coffee is good.”

“At least the coffee is good,” I repeat with a chuckle.

“Now, since we’re going to be together for some time, I was wondering what things you’d like me to get for your entertainment.” I start dishing up her food. “Do you like to read? Or watch movies? What do you like to do for fun.”

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