Bloody Tainted Lies: A Dark Mafia

Romance Shae Ruby

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Bloody Tainted Lies Copyright © 2024 by Shae Ruby
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any others means without
permission, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people, living or
dead, and events is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 979-8-9860000-8-4
Cover Design & Formatting by: Quirky Circe
Edited by:
Julia at entirely bonkerz (@entirelybonkerz)
Angie Ojeda Hazen (Lunar Rose Editing Services)
 Contents

Playlist
Trigger Warnings
National Suicide Prevention

Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Epilogue

What’s Next?
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Shae Ruby
For all my people who believe in second chances,
this one is for you.
 Mine – Sleep Token
Meddle About – Chase Atlantic
Under the Influence – Chris Brown
Call Out My Name – The Weeknd
Stay – The Kid LAROI & Justin Bieber
I Wanna Be Your Slave – Maneskin
The Feels – Labrinth
Leave Before You Love Me – Marshmello & Jonas Brothers
Please – Omido & Ex Habit
Creepin' – Metro Boomin, The Weeknd & 21 Savage
Escapism – RAYE & 070 Shake
The Hills x Creepin x The Color Violet – pearl, fast forward >> & Tazzy
Chasing Lights – Alma
The Color Violet – Tory Lanez
OHMAMI – Chase Atlantic
Until the Day I Die – Story of the Year
Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off – Panic! At the Disco
Paper Thin Hymn – Anberlin
Cardigan – Taylor Swift
If You Want Love – NF
Waiting – The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
With Me – Sum 41
Shut Up and Listen – Nicholas Bonnin & Angelicca
Loved You A Little – The Maine, Taking Back Sunday & Charlotte Sands
Shameless – Camilla Cabello
3:15 (Slowed Down & Reverb) – Russ
Die For You – The Weeknd
Nothing Is Forever – Haarper
Beautiful Things – Benson Boone
 Hello reader,

I write dark stories that can be disturbing to some. My books are not for the faint of heart, and my characters, many times, are
not redeemable. This book contains dark themes to include graphic sex scenes, consent non-consent/dubious consent, captivity,
breath play, water play, degradation, graphic murder, rape (not by main male character), somnophilia, grief, death of a brother,
suicidal thoughts, suicide attempt, voyeurism, drug use, body image struggles. I may be missing some triggers, so instead,
consider this a blanket trigger warning.

I trust you know your triggers before proceeding, and always remember to take care of your mental health.

For more things Shae Ruby, visit authorshaeruby.com

 If You Know Someone in Crisis:
Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (Lifeline) at 1-800-273-TALK (8255), or text the Crisis Text Line (text
HELLO to 741741). Both services are free and available 24 hours a day, seven days a week. All calls are confidential.
Contact social media outlets directly if you are concerned about a friend’s social media updates or dial 911 in an emergency.
T here’s an urgent knock at the door.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
Pause.
The doorbell rings.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
I run to the door, but when I open it no one is there. I hear gurgling sounds, and when I look down, there lies Andrea in a
pool of his own blood, choking on it. Even on his side, he’s drowning. There’s a hole on the back of his shirt, a huge one, and
when I move it aside, there’s a gaping fucking wound.
With shaking hands, I take my phone out of the back pocket of my shorts and dial 911.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“My brother’s been shot!” I yell into the phone, feeling the agony deep in my bones. “I don’t know what to fucking do!”
Desperation claws me from the inside out, and my hands shake as I put my phone on speaker and touch my brother with
trembling hands.
Andrea gurgles again, “Camilla.” He whispers between gurgles. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay!”
“I—” Gurgle. More drowning. “Love—” Again, with the sound that will haunt my nightmares forever. “You.” He chokes
again. “Help me.” The last word whooshes out and I hold him, feeling him take a breath, a deep one—a wet one. A guttural
rattle passes my brother’s vocal cords before he lets it out, and his chest ceases to rise. His last breath.
He had a last breath.
He’s not breathing.
My brother isn’t breathing, and I don’t know what to fucking do!
“Ma’am?” The woman on the phone reminds me she’s there. “Is he breathing?”
“No!” I scream, “Dre!” I slap his face, “Andrea, wake the fuck up! Don’t you dare do this to me.” I sob, shaking him, more
blood pouring from his back.
He can’t survive this.
“Put him flat on his back⁠—”
“He has a hole!”
“Put him flat on his back and do CPR.”
“I don’t know how!” I scream again, putting him flat on his back just like she said.
“Now interlace your fingers and put your palms on his chest between the pectoral muscles. Then pump on his chest.”
“Okay.” I begin to pump. “I’m doing it.”
“Good job!” the woman praises as if I’m a child, and it only makes me want to cry harder. That’s how I used to praise
Andrea. He was such a good kid. Is. Is. “The ambulance is coming. They’re almost there.”
As if on cue, the ambulance enters the street, and so do the police and fire truck. The sounds are so loud my head begins to
pound, and the bright lights are making me dizzy. But I still breathe through it, focusing on the chest compressions. There’s
blood all over my hands, and nausea takes over, but then the paramedics come to my side, and I snap out of it.
“They’re here.” I breathe out and hang up the phone as soon as someone shoves me aside.
After a few minutes of many paramedics working on him, he’s put in the ambulance, where I go in with him. My legs are
covered in dark red blood, still wet and dripping from me. My hands are soaked too, and I smear them on my shirt as I attempt
to dry them. Pretty sure my phone is still in a pool of blood on my front porch, and sudden panic grips my chest when I think of
losing pictures of him.
“Can I use your phone?” They both look at each other and the blood all over me and themselves. “Please, I don’t have to
hold it.”
One of the women nods, her dirty blonde hair up in a high bun and her blue eyes full of pity. She takes off one glove and
dials the number as I list it out for her. The line rings and rings, and just when I think it will go to voicemail, he answers.
“Hello?”
“Leo! Andrea has been shot. You’re on speaker phone. I’m in the ambulance right now.”
“What the fuck?” There’s rustling in the background, like he’s getting out of bed. “I’ll be there in a minute, babe.”
“Can you get my phone from the front porch?” I ask with a low voice, praying he takes pity on me. My lip trembles as I
await his response, and my breath catches in my throat when the paramedics look at me closely.
“Of course, tesoro mio,” he says and my breath whooshes out. “I’ll be right there.”
“Bye,” I whisper, watching the paramedics still working on my brother.
His chest is getting pumped, and I hear the crunch of ribs under unfamiliar hands. Hands that should never have touched
him.
He shouldn’t be here.
Andrea should be at home as always, with earbuds in, reading books in bed until he passes out. Not shot on the front porch.
Not dead. Not on the fucking front porch.
Who did this to him? Who shot him? Who fucking killed him?
I may not know the answers to who did this, but I will find out, and when I do…that person will pay too.
In blood.
My father will make sure of that.
W hen I was a teenager, I knew love was going to be painful. It’s a given, my mother said. Except I always thought I’d fall
in love with my fiancé, and instead, I fell for the wrong person. The enemy my parents always warned me about. The
big bad wolf. He was never that, though. He was sweet, gentle, even. Forbidden. But the heartbreak I experienced… I
don’t think I will ever feel again. Not with anyone but him. And now I’m forced to face him three times a week in my business
class.
Atlantic University in Seaside, Florida, is a college designed for mafia students. We’re sent here to assemble, to form and
foster relationships. The future of our families depends on alliances, and what we can do to create them. The students at this
school are not limited to Chicago. They’re the mafia kids of different families scattered across the United States. Chicago, New
York, Las Vegas, and Florida, to name a few places. This school's organizations include La Cosa Nostra, Bratva, Irish Mob,
and Polish Mob. There’s more than that—but those are the only ones that matter because they make up The Elite.
The Elite is a group of men who have come together to run everything. They’re bosses who have had the opportunity to
stake a claim in the school and are in charge of who is accepted, who isn’t, and everything that goes on in the college. There
are twelve of them in total, all from different locations. There are three Italian, Russian, Polish, and Irish members—the most
powerful family of each location. The main areas are Chicago, New York, and Las Vegas.
Not only are they in charge of who gets accepted into the school, but they also dole out punishments to the ones who step
out of line. Punishments are given based on the offense made. But there’s a loophole. Any murder or maiming that happens on
Atlantic University soil is not punishable by death because it’s neutral ground. That’s not to say that they won’t be punished,
though.
The school’s housing is also divided by countries to avoid conflict, considering that many of our families are enemies. The
Italians and Russians have their own houses on campus, similar to frat houses, and we all have our name for our groups, which
is also the name of our house. The Russians are D’yavolo, and that’s also the name of their house, and we, the Italians, are
Demoni. I personally don’t live in one of the houses, instead, my father bought a house at the edge of campus that is technically
still Atlantic U soil, just away from everyone else. My friends and I live there, thanks to Matteo DeLuca and his controlling
ways. He wants to know that I’m not drinking and partying anymore. I should care; in fact, I should be outraged that he’s trying
to control me to this level, but I honestly just don’t.
I checked out of caring six months ago when my little brother, Andrea, was killed. Now I just survive, put my head down,
and go about life. I get through it one day at a time. The only thing that saves me right now, that makes me feel alive, is dance.
And sometimes, on certain days, seeing Nikolai Pavlov in the crowd of students sitting in my business classroom.
My dream one day is to become a ballet teacher, maybe after being a Prima Ballerina for some time. But it’s important to
me to finish college first, as I never know what could happen. Ballerinas can have injuries, and I need something to fall back
on in the event that a tragedy happens. And it would be my bad luck, because tragedy has been following me around since I was
seventeen years old.
So, in the hopes of achieving all my dreams, I’ve taken up business to learn how to have my own. I want my own studio one
day, and the only way to make that happen is by having at least basic knowledge on how to run more than just the dance side of
it. I don’t expect to have any help from my family, although if I make my trust fund last, I could live off it for many decades to
come.
But now, as I sit here in my business class, taking out my notebook and pens—because I color code my notes—my biggest
nightmare steps in through the door and smiles at me. A smile so bright my heart nearly stops in my chest. As if the last time we
spoke hadn’t traumatized me. Like he didn’t break my heart beyond repair. And yet he has the audacity to walk right up to me
and plop down on the chair right next to mine. He puts up the little desk attached to the chair and looks at me. I feel his gaze
burning my face, but I don’t dare turn toward him. Instead, I keep my eyes forward and try to ignore him.
It’s difficult to ignore Nikolai Pavlov, though. His presence fills the room like nothing I’ve ever felt before, except maybe
through my entire teenage years, when he was everything to me. Now his scent taunts me, sandalwood and vanilla, filling my
nostrils until I want to cry from how much I miss it. Him.
Nikolai taps his pen against his desk, annoying me, and I huff. I glance over at him and roll my eyes, “Could you please
stop that?” I ask calmly, and he smirks. “You’re distracting me.”
“I’m sure that’s not the reason why you’re distracted.” His voice is deeper than I remember. His body is different too. He’s
broader, stronger. Built like a man, not the boy that I knew. Even his jaw looks stronger, more chiseled. His lips fuller. His eyes
prettier. Maybe I’m just imagining things. His black hair still falls over his eyes when he looks down, and his silver eyes still
have that black freckle on the right one.
“Why are you here, Nikolai?” I ask him with a shaky voice, trying not to cry, trying not to remember the last time we spoke.
The hurtful things he said. “We haven’t talked in three years.”
“I’m aware.” He says coolly. “You look like shit, Camilla.” My heart clenches in my chest briefly at the way he pronounces
my name, the way he always used to. I loved it so much. Now, it just hurts.
I know I look like shit, unfortunately. It’s kind of hard to care about my appearance lately, although I’m still making sure to
be presentable. But today? The one day he notices me? I’m just wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt with a messy bun on top of
my head. He should be used to it; this is exactly what I would wear after the dance studio when we met up, only now he’s using
it against me to make me feel bad about myself. Go figure. “Thanks. I guess that is what happens when your brother gets
killed.”
I look at him briefly, just quick enough to see his cringe and the hard set of his jaw. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” I raise my chin, “That was fucked up.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t⁠—”
“Look.” I sigh, “We were done, Nikolai.” He cringes again when I don’t call him by his nickname. “You don’t owe me
anything, so save your explanations. I didn’t expect you to call me or come to the services. Don’t worry.”
“I should’ve been there.”
You should’ve been there for a lot more, Nikki.
The professor walks in through the door, settling at the front of the room, and she begins to talk. “I need to pay attention.”
“Let me make it up to you, please.”
“What?”
“Not calling after your brother’s death.”
My eyes well up with tears. It’s not that it hurts that much that he didn’t call at first. I didn’t think about it until I had no one
to talk to about it. Until I wanted to tell him all about my feelings and pain. “And how will you do that?”
“Let me get you a present for your birthday.”
“I don’t want your gifts, Nikolai.”
“Fine.” He whispers. “Let me see you again. Just one more time.”
“Leo will actually murder me.” I snap. “Literally. And why now? Hmm?” Tears well up in my eyes and I look away.
“You’ve had all this time. Why now?”
“Because, Milla,” he replies, “Because I miss you? I don’t know why. I just need to—I don’t know. Get closure?”
“I don’t.” I gaze at the teacher, who is looking around the class like she’s trying to figure out who’s talking. I do my best to
keep a straight face and wipe my tears discreetly, like I’m scratching my face. On both sides. Ugh. “However, if you genuinely
need it that bad, then come to my party in a few days... On Saturday. I’m sure you know the house, yeah?”
I say the yeah just like he used to, and he smiles.
“I know where it is.”
“Alright.” I nod once, “Now let me pay attention.”
He doesn’t say another word through the lecture, and I kind of wish he hadn’t listened to me. I highly doubt he will show up
at the party. That’s just him pitying me, telling me something to make me feel better. He always did make me feel better about
everything.
When everyone starts getting up, I hastily gather my belongings and stuff them back in my bag, wanting to get out of here.
But when I get up to get going, Nikolai grabs my wrist in an iron grip. “Saturday?” He asks, his voice hoarse. “You’ll talk to
me?”
“Sure.”
With that, he lets me go, and I all but run to my car. Once inside, the dam breaks and my tears flow. I can’t believe him right
now, wanting to barge into my life like nothing ever happened. Like he wasn’t ripped from me, taken, blackmailed. We
shouldn’t even be conversing right now, much less at my party. Leonardo, my fiancé since we were kids, is going to flip the
fuck out.
 Leonardo is the kind of guy who used to be nice, sweet even. We got engaged in elementary school, and he was my friend
for a long time. One of my best ones, in fact. But that was a long time ago, and now he’s the devil incarnate. I’ve hated him for
four years, and I will continue to hate him until the day I die. Except ever since I lost my virginity to him, we’ve had an
understanding. If I ever have an urge to have sex… I come to him. It’s mainly because the last time he caught me with a boy, he
ruined my life, so now I either go to him or I have to be highly discreet. Everyone at Atlantic U knows we’re engaged, and he
would finish killing me if he ever found out I fucked someone else. And I have needs too sometimes, damn it.
So even through my hate, I relent and fuck him. At least sometimes, which only makes me hate myself more. Annie, my best
friend, hates him more than I do. If that’s even possible. And she doesn’t even know what he did to me. They’ve just always
had a thing where they can’t stand the sight of each other. Ever since we were children, they constantly fought.
I drive over to the studio with my windows down, letting the breeze hit my face and the smell of salt water permeate my
senses. I’ve always loved being by the beach, and with it being my Junior year, I only have this year and the next to enjoy it
before I have to get married. Needless to say, I’m making the best of it.
When I pull over to the dance studio, I flip down the visor and look in the mirror, patting my tears off and cleaning my nose.
I didn’t even wear makeup today, not that I do every day, but I do have bags under my eyes, and I look pale. It’s no wonder
Nikolai said something. It’s hard not to notice.
I change clothes in the car, struggling to put on my black tights and leotard, but I manage. I’m not in the mood to go inside
and talk to Annie about our day, which is what we usually do before dance practice. We’ve both been at the Academy together
since we got to Seaside, and having this time with her has been fun. Just like when we were kids. We’ve been dancing together
since we were three years old, and our mothers were also best friends. Although I’d say my mom was more of a parent to
Annie than Isabella.
Isabella is a woman focused on the needs of her husband—a dutiful Cosa Nostra wife. She doesn’t question what he does
or says, and it’s an easy way to gain his affection. Men love that shit, a wife who doesn’t ask questions and does as she’s told.
I’ll be damned if I’m one of those, even if Leo will be Don at some point, and I should probably get my shit together.
There are five important families in the Cosa Nostra—at least the ones who rule Chicago. The DeLuca family—which is
my family. Leonardo’s family, the Colombo’s. The Gambino family, which is Annie’s. The Marino’s and the Ricci’s. The
DeLuca family is the most powerful of these five Chicago families—with the most influence and businesses. That’s why my
father holds a seat with The Elite, or as they sometimes call it, The Table. The families of Giulia and Viviana—my friends and
roommates—the Rossi and Bianchi, hold the other two seats for the Italians.
I’m convinced Leo is only engaged to me due to my father’s influence and power, and I have yet to figure out what the
Colombos bring to the table in exchange. But it has to be something important, because my father doesn’t just give over his
assets with nothing in exchange. And I am an asset—at least my pussy is.
When I make it to the studio, Annie is doing barre warm-ups. I head straight to her and get behind her, taking my position.
We both stretch for a few minutes before she turns around and narrows her eyes at me.
“Why have you been crying?”
“I—” I consider lying to her. But she knows me better than anyone else at this point, so I don’t think I could pull it off. So
instead, I go with the truth. “Nikolai sat next to me in class…said he wants closure.”
“What does that even mean?” She asks with a raised eyebrow.
“I don’t know. He said he wants to talk.” I reply. “So I invited him to my party.”
“You did what?” she exclaims, looking around and seeing many eyes on us. She lowers her voice, “Are you out of your
mind? Leo is going to be there. Could you imagine if you got caught?”
“I’d die.” I nod. “But I need to know what he wants, Annie. My heart still hurts.”
“He was mean, Cam.” She sighs, her brown eyes hard. “He wasn’t just a little hurtful, he was an asshole. I still like him,
but he is an ass.”
“I know…”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m here for you, babe.” She squeezes my arm and stretches again while facing me. “And if you need me to kill him, I’ll do
it.”
I laugh at that, my eyes tearing up again. I appreciate the gesture, but we both know she’ll never be able to kill Nikolai
Pavlov. He probably has a lot of experience killing people by now, and she doesn’t stand a chance. No, the only one he
wouldn’t hurt is me, that much I’m sure of, even if he hates me. I wonder how many girls he’s been with since we were together
last. How many has he given those three little words to? How many has he begged on his knees for? But something tells me the
number hasn’t grown. He probably learned how to have some pride after that.
“We both know that’s never going to happen, Annie.” I roll my eyes, “But it’s the thought that counts…”
“Right?” She chuckles, “But now it’s time to have fun, Cam. So forget all about him, and let’s race fouettés.”
“Alright,” I tell her with a chuckle.
 Ever since we were little girls, we would race fouettés. It was our friendly competition to prove who was better than the
other. We were usually an even match, but now I’m starting to beat her, and it’s become a little more competitive than it used to
be.
I get into the fourth position, bend my knees slightly, push up into the retiré position, and then turn. And then I do it again
and again. No one is counting for us, so this one is just for fun, no competition. She stops first though, and then I do too,
laughing. She narrows her eyes then rolls them.
“I guess I owe you lunch for this one.” It’s what we usually do for each other. Whoever loses pays for lunch.
“Fine, but you pick.” I grin. “I don’t think I can make good decisions today.”
“You’re not wrong.” She tuts. “But maybe it’s not so terrible to give him a chance to explain himself.”
“It’s just going to be really painful.”
And I don’t think I’m ready for more pain.
 14 Years Old

A nnie and I finish on stage, ending the recital with a pirouette. I grab her hand and haul her to the back, peering into the
crowd to try to spot my family and Leo, who I guess is like family too. At least my future husband and best friend. But
it’s hard to tell where anyone is with the bright lights shining in my eyes. I squint anyway and attempt it one more time,
to no avail. Oh well, it looks like I’m going to have to wait until they come looking for me.
Sure enough, as soon as I walk back toward the changing area, Leo awaits me with a bouquet of red roses. His brown hair
shines when the light hits it, and his dreamy light brown eyes twinkle when he sets them on me. Butterflies erupt in my stomach
the closer I walk toward him, and the only reason I remember Annie is with me is because she’s grabbing onto my arm for dear
life.
The smile I give him reaches all the way to my eyes; I can feel it, and when I’m close enough to touch him, he yanks me
from Annie’s grip and presses his soft, pillowy lips to mine. Every kiss with him is an experience. Sometimes gentle and
sweet, and other times passionate and mean, like he wants to eat me alive. Tonight, he’s behaving, and I get the sweetest kiss
from him. It makes me feel loved, cherished, as he always does.
“Cam,” He smiles against my lips, and I push away slightly so my parents don’t kill us. They know we’re together, but
we’re still expected to act a certain way in public and in front of them. Not that Annie would say anything. “You were perfect.”
“Thank you, Leo.” I grin, pulling away when I see my parents coming from the edge of my vision. “These are beautiful.”
I grab the flowers, smelling the sweet aroma for good measure, and then grab Annie’s hand.
“You were pretty great too, Annabella,” Leo tells her, and I smile at him for being nice to her when I know he’s not her
biggest fan. He says she’s a bad influence on me, and sometimes I’d have to agree. But she’s essentially the sister I’ve never
had, so I don’t care.
“There you are!” Mamma says, both her hands busy with bouquets of white peonies. My favorite. “My girls!”
“Mamma!” I exclaim when she gives me my bouquet, both my hands now full. “Thank you.”
“You were absolutely breathtaking, Camilla.” She whispers, kissing my cheek. “I am so proud of you, bambina mia.”
“Thank you, mamma.” I look at her dark hair, loose down her back, and her green eyes full of tears, and something inside of
me breaks, too. My eyes well up with my own tears, and unexpectedly, they begin to stream down my face.
I look past my mother to see him, my dad, standing to the side with his eyes fixed on his phone. He must feel my stare on
him because he looks up. Instead of acknowledging me he looks at me and rolls his eyes, then goes back to his phone.
Something inside of me withers and dies—hope, I think.
Mamma moves past me to hug Annie, whose parents aren’t here tonight because they don’t like ballet, leaving me to stand
alone. Before I can think of going back to Leo, my little—favorite—brother, runs up to me and throws his arms around me.
“You were so good, sissy!” Andrea wraps me into his tight hug.
My heart bursts and I grin, “Thank you, Dre.”
“Who wants to get ice cream?” My mom asks, “We can go to Mandy’s!” My favorite ice cream shop.
I smile, “I’d love some ice cream.” I murmur to her, holding my arms up with the flowers to tell her I don’t know what to
do with them. “Let’s go.”
“Hold on.” My mom replies with a smile, “Marcello will grab the flowers and take them to the car. We can walk to
Mandy’s from here.”
 “Yay!” Annie does a little jump up and down. “What are you going to get from there, Cam? Maybe we can share?” Sharing
has been our go-to always. Annie and I—and probably everyone else in this recital—are scared to gain too much weight and
not be able to get roles.
“Yeah,” I nod rapidly, “We can share.”
Leo comes to my side as Marcello grabs the bouquets from me and wraps a possessive arm around my waist. “You need to
go change.”
“Change? Why?”
“I don’t want anyone else to be looking at you, Camilla.” He rolls his eyes, and I tense, “You’re basically half-naked.”
My dad grunts from behind Leo, and I tense. Looking down at my body, I do a small perusal. I’m wearing a leotard and
tights, yes, but the tutu covers most of everything he doesn’t want me to show.
My mom huffs, “She’s fine, Leonardo. Everything is covered.” He tries to argue, but she holds her hand up, “We’re
leaving.”
After changing our shoes, Annie and I link arms and stride after my mother, and when she gets to my father he shakes his
head, disappointing me. He never spends time with me; I think it’s because I’m not one of his precious sons. They’re all he
cares about.
“I’ll wait in the car, bella.”
My mom nods slowly and pats his arm, a condescending gesture my father ignores, but I notice. She does it to me when I’m
being a brat or when she plain disagrees with whatever I say or want.
“Sure.” Is all she says as we walk away from him and out of the Performing Arts Center.
Annie’s arm is linked with mine on the right side, and Leo is holding my hand on the left. It’s perfect, really, and this is
what makes me happiest. Spending time with my favorite people. Well, they are all my favorite people, if I’m being honest, but
when it comes to most favorites—number one and two—Leo comes out at the top and Annie in second place. Not that I’d ever
admit to her that a boy is taking her spot.
Andrea and my mother walk ahead of us, leading the way. They’re lost in conversation, and I bask in the moment quietly,
admiring the scenery around us. Downtown Chicago is beautiful at night, with all its lights and tall buildings.
Finally, after five minutes, we walk up to Mandy’s and get in line to grab our ice creams. Annie and I opt for coconut and
Leo orders chocolate. Chocolate is my favorite, but unfortunately, Annie is allergic. So we compromised. And Leo doesn’t like
to share anything—not even with me.
Once mom is done paying, we go outside and find a table. It only has four chairs, but we grab one more from an empty
table. I sit next to Annie and Leo, and Andrea and Mamma sit across from us.
While Mamma and Andrea talk about the latest video game he wants for Christmas, I focus on eating my ice cream. The
coconut ice cream also has shredded coconut chunks as well, and I close my eyes and savor it. When I open them, Annie is
staring at me with a smile on her face. She then tilts her head and nods it toward another table.
My eyes follow a path to it, and a guy around our age sits there with his friends, speaking another language. It sounds rough,
raw. But I’m mostly paying attention to the way he looks. Dark hair, slightly longer on top and faded on the sides. It falls over
his forehead in an endearing way that makes me want to sweep it out of the way. I look at his full lips as they move in a
hypnotizing way, trapping me under a spell.
Annie squeezes my arm in what I think is a warning, yet I couldn’t look away if I wanted to. There’s something about him
that’s pulling me in, and when he looks up, our eyes meet. If I thought I got butterflies from Leo, I was very, very wrong.
Molten metal eyes meet my own, and my stomach swoops as if I’m on a rollercoaster ride. His smirk tips his lips up on the
right side, and I flush all over. The heat I’m feeling causes me to perspire, and the worst thing? He won’t look away.
“Cam,” Leo says in warning against my ear as I smile at the stranger and look away from him. Awkward. “Quit making eyes
at the enemy.”
“Eyes?”
“I saw the way you’re looking at him, which sucks because I’m sitting right next to you.” He huffs, “Do you not respect your
future husband?”
“I do!” I rush out, not meaning to hurt him, even though I can still feel the stranger’s eyes on me. “I’m sorry, the language
sounded strange.”
“They’re Bratva.”
Sweat rushes down my spine.
Bratva.
Our enemies.
Suddenly, the heat in my body turns into an uncomfortable cold that I can’t shake. “Sorry.”
But even as I apologize, I look back at him, wondering his name. Unfortunately, he looks back at me, too. With a smile so
bright, my heart threatens to stop. His stare doesn’t waver, and I can’t tear my eyes away from him. He’s positively
mesmerizing.
 With a small smile and goosebumps all over my body, I force myself to look away. And just like that, I carry on with Annie
and Leo, ignoring the beautiful boy who will absolutely haunt my dreams from now on.
W hen I was younger, and I was enforcing, killing was a requirement. My father would give me the jobs and I would be
the judge and executioner—literally. Now I’m just the executioner, as punishment for a crime I didn’t mean to commit.
Killing used to be a job, now it’s a chore, and it gets more annoying by the day. So here I am, on my forty-eighth kill in
the last six months, with only two left to fulfill my debt to the Elite. And I’m pissed off that I have to do it, so it’s probably
going to be quick anyway. This time I won’t have help for cleaning up though, so instead, it will be my responsibility to figure
it out.
The main problem is that my crime was against one of the sons of the Elite, and while they could not kill me because we
were on the neutral grounds of Atlantic University, I also couldn’t go unpunished. I tried explaining what happened, but
Leonardo Colombo is a fucking snake, and he wouldn’t admit to the truth in the first place. Because I was at fault for shooting,
no one considered what I said. This only intensified my hate for Leonardo. After all, this isn’t the only thing he’s taken from
me. But now I’m being forced to kill fifty people thanks to him, as if his taking the love of my life wasn’t enough.
The Elite are not forgiving men, and even though I didn’t mean to kill Andrea DeLuca, I can understand why I’m being
punished for it. If the roles were reversed I would not forgive it either, no matter how innocent the person who killed my son
claims to be. So I guess I should be counting my lucky stars that my crime was committed on neutral grounds, and this way they
cannot kill me. Not only did I shoot him on neutral grounds, but he made his way to his home on the edge of campus and died on
the fucking front porch.
I don’t even want to think about that right now—or her.
For this job, I’m meeting with a man at a warehouse under the guise of purchasing weapons, but what he doesn’t know is
that I don’t need them. I need him instead. Speak of the devil, he’s waiting for me in the back of the building with a garage open
like a good boy. It’s too bad that it’s all about to end for him, he actually looks like he could be a good soldier. It makes me
wonder what he did to deserve this, but I’m not in a position to ask questions. So I won’t. I need to get this job done so I can be
done with the Elite. They’re not the type of men you want to owe a debt to, and I know if I don’t keep up my end of the
punishment, I will die.
“Adrian.” I say politely, “You got everything?”
“Yes.” He nods, shaking my hand.
“Perfect.”
I wait until he turns around to show me the weapons, and shoot him in the back three times. It’s cheap, in my opinion, but I
don’t feel like getting into a gunfight tonight. Just not in the mood for bullshit.
“God, I’m so sick of doing this,” I mutter, grabbing the guy from the floor and dragging him all the way to the backseat of
the borrowed car. Thankfully I didn’t have to use mine because I don’t have backseats, so I was provided one. How generous.
I shut the car door and get in the driver’s side, closing it quickly and driving off at the speed limit. I don’t want to attract
any attention to myself, especially since I have quite the drive to the state line to bury him. The farther he is from Seaside, the
better. I don’t want any ties to him. Not that it matters; Elite business is untouchable, so that means I am, too.
An hour later, I’m pulling up to a deserted dirt road in the middle of a forest and park close to the wood line. I grab the
shovel and walk through the trees, finding the perfect spot and dropping the shovel next to it. Then I go back for Adrian,
carrying him over my shoulder and making the short trip to the area I picked. This is going to take a while.
I begin to shovel, the dirt pliable from the Florida heat, and soon enough I have half a hole dug out. As I wipe my forehead
with the back of my hand, I note that there needs to be at least three more feet of depth.
I swear this is getting old, but I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. When I’m done with this, I will take over
Chicago one business at a time. I don’t dare defy my father yet, but I will not be succeeding him. I want to be my own man, on
my own terms, and start a new family line. One that doesn’t involve him, not after what he did to my mother. I’ve already begun
to, technically. I purchased The Zebra Club last week, and it’s being handled by the soldiers who aren’t loyal to my father but
are loyal to me now. I’m not under the impression that they won’t betray me, either. Clearly, their loyalties are easily swayed.
For now though, I don’t care. I will take what I can get, and since I have a second in command, I think everything will be okay
for a while at least.
Still, I’m on the lookout for more businesses that I can buy with the money my club makes. Once I achieve that, I just have
to make sure to stay under the radar until I’m ready to announce it to my father. When I have enough businesses, I’ll be buying
him out of Chicago. He won’t have enough to be more powerful than me, which brings me immense joy. I’ll be damned if I’m
under my father’s thumb, the Elite’s too, for the rest of my life. No, I want a seat at the Elite table on my own terms, not just
because I’m Oleg Pavlov’s son. And I’m going to get it.
I dig the rest of the hole, then roll the man into it unceremoniously. I don’t even care about anything at this point. I feel
nothing after a kill anymore. There was a time about thirty kills ago when I felt sick to my stomach about how many murders I
was piling up, but now I see it as a necessary evil. Once I’ve paid my debt, maybe I can get back the only thing that matters to
me. Camilla.
I take off my shirt and throw it in the hole along with him, not having brought a bag like the dumbass I am, then go get the
tarp from the car. I wrap it up too and throw it on top, then cover him with dirt until it’s level with the ground, only a tiny
mound on top.
It’s not even night time right now. I’ve become more brave by the kill, not caring at all about the time of day. I usually
operate at night because of my school schedule, but I took a day off today. Unfortunately for me, that means that I don’t get to
see Camilla even from afar. Although we’ve been estranged for years, I haven’t been able to get her out of my head. Imagine
my surprise when I stumbled upon her in class. It’s been hell seeing her three times a week for months on end without talking to
her.
Although I know it wasn’t my best moment, I did mean what I said to her the other day. She looked like absolute shit. Her
eyes had deep, purple bags under them. And she was thinner than I’ve ever seen her. I know it’s all my fault, and that’s
probably why it makes me feel guiltier. She doesn’t deserve this pain.
That’s why I switch vehicles, change my clothes, and drive all the way to the restaurant she frequents with Annie. I’m not
even discreet about it, getting a table right behind them, and watching them.
The brunette waitress comes to my table, a wide smile on her face. “Welcome to Giovanni’s, my name is Rose. Can I get
you started with something to drink?”
“Just water, please.” She nods, “And I’m actually ready to order my food as well.”
About thirty minutes later, Camilla has a salmon salad in front of her, while Annie has chicken, rice, and asparagus. Me, on
the other hand? I have a juicy steak with mashed potatoes and a Caesar salad. You can tell they’re dancers by their eating
habits, always so clean to stay in the shape they need to. Except in my opinion, it’s okay to indulge occasionally. But she
doesn’t know how to do that. She was never the type to indulge in anything except for maybe us.
Annie is talking excitedly about something, using her hands a lot, and Camilla pretends to listen. I only know this because I
know what she looks like when she actually does listen. They’re talking about a recital—Swan Lake. Interesting. I always
thought ballet would be a phase for Camilla, even when she assured me it was her favorite thing to do. After all, most girls
grow out of that by the time they’re eighteen.
Annie stiffens when she sees me, and her hands drop. We’ve had a few classes over the years, and we’re actually friendly
with each other. But I guess I’m not forgiven for breaking Milla’s heart, even though she broke mine first. It’s quite unfair in my
opinion, and she deserved what I said. She betrayed me too.
Of course, due to Annie’s outburst Camilla turns around, and when our eyes meet, hers harden. I know I deserve that, but it
doesn’t hurt any less. How I can still hurt from something that happened when I was eighteen, is beyond me. But here I am, still
broken up over a girl who wouldn’t fight for us. Except she’s not a girl anymore, she’s a woman now.
Her dark brown, almost black hair is flowing all the way down to her lower back, her dress displaying it between peeks of
her dark strands. Camilla’s lips are set in a hard line as she stares at me, but her eyes? They look like they could catch on fire
at any moment. The orange flecks in them are glowing even from a few feet away, and that’s how I know she’s pissed. The only
other time they did this was the first time we got into a fight.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Camilla hisses, twisting her little body around on the chair.
I gesture to my food with my hand, “Eating.” I reply nonchalantly, like I’m not stalking her at all.
“How did you know I was here?”
“I know everything about you,” I smirk, and she rolls her eyes. She tries to object, but I raise my hand. “I always have.”
“Of course, you’d think so.” She smiles, and Annie’s eyes widen.
That bothers me, because I don’t know everything anymore and she knows I’m talking shit. But I know the things that matter.
“Why are you⁠—”
 “Pissed at you?” Camilla raises one eyebrow. “Have you forgotten what you said to me last?”
“Come sit with me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“We don’t have to wait until Saturday to talk.” I sigh, and she gets up from her chair with a huff and sits across from me.
“Thank you.”
“So talk.”
I look at Annie, who is still at the other table, looking down at her food like they’re about to have a conversation, then back
at Camilla. “I’m sorry,” I tell her with honesty. “I was hurt when you had sex with Leo—it hurt me. You did.”
She seems to think about this for a moment. “And you don’t think it hurt me?” Tears fill her eyes. “Did you think I wanted
it?”
“I don’t know, Camilla,” I say her name like I used to, with reverence. “But when I saw you go in that room with him—I
just knew I’d walk out of that house with a broken heart. And it did break, again.”
“I’m sorry too.”
“I know we can’t start over or even be friends, but I needed to apologize,” I tell her and she nods. “I should’ve never said
that to you.”
You’re disgusting.
I never want to see you again.
The words have played over and over in my head for years, mostly because they’re the only regret I’ve ever had—other
than letting her walk away.
“I accept your apology.” She replies, grabbing my hand.
But she doesn’t actually forgive me.
My skin feels like it’s on fire from a single touch, and I stay very still. I don’t dare even breathe for fear that she will take
her hand away from mine. But eventually she does and goes back to her table with Annie.
Leaving me behind.
Again.
 14 Years Old

I descend the stairs to the basement slowly, quietly. I stop at the bottom step to watch the men at the table chatter amongst
themselves. They’re playing poker. Well, it’s more like teaching the boys to play. Leonardo sits closest to his father, and
Alessandro and Andrea—my brothers—sit closer to mine. They’re explaining the rules of the game, which sounds like
gibberish, but it’s not, and I sit on the steps to try to get the gist of what’s happening.
No one pays attention to me as I sit here, and I just watch as they sit around the table and exchange jokes, cards, and chips.
Even the boys seem like they’re having fun, flourishing under the attention of the men. It’s like watching a plant slowly grow,
the way these boys think the men are the sun. But they’re not—they may act nice to them, but they’re all snakes. I’ve seen it with
my own eyes. They’re influential people who are never satisfied with anything they have. They always want more and more
and more.
My father smiles at the boys, and it’s unnerving. My father rarely smiles; when he does, there’s always a meaning behind it.
It usually tells you he plans on doing something evil, like ruining a life. I imagine just how many people he has smiled at right
before he did that, and I shiver. Except this one seems genuine, and that’s scarier than the death smile.
The men in this room are all-powerful, with their suits and cufflinks, perfectly coiffed hair, and an air of grandiosity. They
don’t take crap from anyone, and everyone is scared of them. On the other hand, they’re scared of nothing, care for nothing. As
my father always says, caring is weakness, and he’s not weak. It’s no wonder he doesn’t bother with me, yet his sons are his
legacy, so he has to teach them his ways. Maybe if I stop being a pushover, he will see me as an equal to Alessandro and
Andrea.
I used to idolize my father, making him out to be this invincible man who would always take care of me. However, that was
never the case; now, he’s the big bad villain in all of my stories—rightfully so. My father couldn’t care less if I died, and now I
think I’m beginning to feel the same about him.
It’s Andrea’s turn to play, and everyone looks at him expectantly. For being only twelve, he fits right in with them. Except
he’s being forced to, which breaks my heart. He has always told me he doesn’t want to be like Papà or Alessandro, that he
wants to live a peaceful life where he doesn’t have to worry about the Bratva or other Mafia families.
I agree.
Why are we always fighting? Why can’t we all just live in peace? It’s starting to get so bad, this rivalry, that it even
determines who we’re friends with at school.
My nose tingles and my eyes water, so I press on the bridge of my nose to try to keep my allergies under control. That’s one
of the reasons I don’t come down here, and as if my body is mocking me, I sneeze.
Everyone—and I do mean every single person—in the basement turns to look at me. Leo narrows his eyes, Alessandro
stays neutral, and Andrea’s eyes almost bug out of his head. I imagine that’s what I look like right now as well.
I clear my throat and push up to stand, and my father holds up his hand before I can turn around and make a run for it. This
isn’t good, and I know it. My father isn’t the type of man to give me his attention so freely, to stop what he’s doing just to give
me the time of day.
“What are you doing here, Camilla?” My father asks me in a voice that I can only imagine as condescending, like I’m a bug
at the bottom of his shoe he just stepped on and killed. Like I’m not worth his time. He sounds annoyed.
“I—uh.” I clear my throat again. “I’d like to learn to play poker too.”
 My father sighs and shakes his head, and the rest of the men smirk and snicker under their breaths as if to imply it’s not my
place. I have a feeling my father will say the same, but I can’t just lie after I’m caught this way. Maybe Papà will feel bad for
me and make space at the table. Doubtful, though.
Matteo DeLuca is not a weak man, and he squares his shoulders and lifts his chin as he levels me with dark eyes. I want to
fold in on myself, to forget about his death stare right now. This is how I imagine he looks at people before slitting their throats,
and my first instinct is to cringe. Instead, I mimic him, lifting my chin and squaring my shoulders just like him. Years of ballet
make that come naturally anyway, and with barely a command, my back goes ramrod straight.
He tsks, “You know the basement is for the men—and so is poker.” In a moment of weakness, my eyes plead with him. “Am
I right, boys?”
The men all laugh, and so does he. A shiver runs down my spine when he levels me with his eyes again, and this time, I do
cower. I take a step back and get back on the stairs. “Papà, please.”
“It’s not your place to be with the men.” My father gestures to the back of the basement, where there’s a couch with three
women on it, something I hadn’t even noticed before he pointed it out. “Only the whores are with us. No, your place is upstairs,
where you will learn to be a wife to Leonardo.”
My eyes lock onto Leo’s, and although he’s done nothing wrong, his face turns white as a sheet of paper. I narrow my eyes
at him and he nods once. “I want to spend time with Leo,” I reply, like I didn’t just hear about his whores. “I’m bored.”
Leo shakes his head frantically at me, and I pout, taking that as his answer to wanting to spend time with me.
“Camilla.” My father sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Get the fuck upstairs. Now.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to!”
He takes steps forward until he’s standing at my side, and my eyes fill with tears and a sob catches in my throat as he yanks
me by the arm and drags me up the stairs. “You’re being a fucking brat, Camilla. Don’t make me punish you.”
My father drops me by the kitchen island before storming back down to the basement, and all I can think of is seeking my
mother and the comfort her embrace brings me. Once he closes the basement door, I let myself break, sobbing uncontrollably on
the kitchen floor.
“Cam?” My mom asks, “Where are you?”
“Here.” I croak out. “On the floor.”
My mother comes around the island to find me sitting against it, and she kneels at my feet. “What happened?” Her voice is
soft, gentle, everything my father could never be for me.
“Papà kicked me out of the basement.”
Understanding shines in her eyes. I don’t even need to finish the story because she sits on the ground next to me and pulls
me toward her lap. Her long fingers get tangled in my hair, and she brushes the strands out.
“Our place is not down there with them, Camilla.” She says so softly I almost don’t hear her. “We are the ones who care for
the home and have everything they need in place. We take care of them when they come upstairs. But when they’re down there?
We don’t follow. Not unless you want to see things that will break you beyond repair.”
“What could possibly break me? They’re just playing poker.”
My mom’s fingers pause in my hair, “That’s not all they’re doing, sweetheart. One day, you will understand, and when the
day comes, you will know to never step foot in a basement again.”
I listen intently, wanting to learn more about this life I’m supposed to lead. Except none of it makes me happy anymore. The
closer I get to my wedding date with Leo, the less I want to do it. And now this? What if I don’t want to marry him anymore?
What if I fall out of love?
I t’s two days before my party, and my mother has arranged for all the preparations. I was thinking I wanted more of a house
party vibe—low-key—but I should’ve known they wouldn’t let me have that. Although they don’t live here and only visit
occasionally, they still have to manage my life one way or another. So my mother is taking the planning to extremes—as
always. It’s not surprising in the least, just a bit irritating.
There’s flowers and cocktail tables. Hors d’oeuvres planned. And now she wants to make it to where people have to wear
semi-formal attire too. At least they’ve decided not to stay for the party and let me have my twenty-first birthday to act
however I want. I feel like there has to be an ulterior motive, but maybe I’m just being suspicious. I don’t know though, it just
doesn’t feel like something my father would let me do.
What is more suspicious though, is this dinner right now. They haven’t arranged for us to have dinner together since Andrea
died six months ago, and I don’t want to be here. It’s obviously mandatory, though. Everything is where my father is involved.
Even my brother Alessandro doesn’t want to be here right now, as evidenced by the fact that we haven’t spoken since Dre
died. Being a few years older than me, he’s always been distant. We’ve never had a relationship. He’s always avoided me like
the plague, and now that there’s no buffer between us, he doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he wants nothing to do with me.
He’s only here because he has to be—because he’s forced to be.
My parents have offered him this house time and time again, or at least a room in it, and he has always turned them down.
Currently, he lives off-campus, in his own apartment somewhere. I couldn’t figure out if I tried because I didn’t have the
privilege to have that knowledge. The only thing I know about him now is that he’s a postgraduate student pursuing his Masters
in Business Administration. And the fact that my understanding of him is so limited hurts, but not more than the fact that he
literally won’t interact with me unless forced to. Does he somehow blame me for Andrea’s death?
Alessandro accidentally bumps his soup bowl with the spoon and looks around at us. It’s been the only sound since we
started eating, and both my parents look up from their food.
This is awkward.
We shouldn’t be doing it.
“Andrea should be here.” I finally burst out, because someone needed to say it. “He should be here. This is so unfair.” My
eyes water and tears spill down my cheeks, making my chest tight with emotion. My throat closes up as a sob makes its way up,
and my father slams his fist down on the table, making all the china rattle.
“Stop, Camilla.” He says.
“It’s not a family dinner without him!” I look at my brother briefly, and he keeps his eyes down as I say all of this, not
wanting to make eye contact with our father.
“Shut the fuck up.” Matteo DeLuca growls because, at this moment, he’s not my dad. He’s someone else in a familiar body.
He hates talking about Andrea, but someone has to. Mamma starts crying now too, her body rocking with her sobs. “Stop
crying, Camilla.” He tells me as I sniffle. “Move on. I have, why can’t you?”
“Because he was my baby brother!” I scream at him.
I recoil when he comes around the table and stands in front of me, rearing his hand back and slapping my face. I should’ve
seen it coming, should’ve known he’d lose his cool. But I don’t even care right now because I’m going to keep Dre’s memory
alive if it’s the last thing I do.
My head snaps to the side, towards Alessandro, and he cringes. My lip stings, and when I touch it, my hand comes back
with a small amount of blood. My mother stops crying immediately and, instead, narrows her eyes at my father. Then she comes
to stand by my side.
 “Back. Off.” She raises her chin defiantly like I always do, “Don’t you dare hit her again for saying my son’s name.”
Before my father can reply, I push my chair back and run out of the dining room. I’m running up the grand staircase, down a
hallway, and finally to my room. I lock the door behind me, not wanting to be bothered. I’m waiting until they all leave so I can
also leave the house, so I get my phone out to text my best friend.
CAMILLA
What are we doing tonight?

ANNIE
Let’s go dancing.

CAMILLA
Where?

ANNIE
Bar? Club?

CAMILLA
I’m in.

I get dressed in record time, wearing a little black dress with stilettos. My makeup is done—a glam look. I’m rocking a
smoky eye with winged eyeliner and red lipstick. I usually don’t wear much makeup unless there’s a special occasion, but
tonight, I need to feel something. I’ll probably get drunk at the club with Annabella, and if I’m being truthful, I’ll more than
likely have more than alcohol. Maybe.
Within the hour, the house is eerily quiet. I know Annie is home getting ready too, but she must have heard the commotion
because she hasn’t come out of her room. The other girls are clearly not here yet, though. I’m not sure if we’re all going out
together or if it’s a two-person ordeal, but I don’t actually care.
I open the door quietly, but it still creaks. Well, that’s annoying. Thankfully, the house is so quiet I’m sure everyone left.
Annie’s door is open, and she stands in front of her mirror, touching up her hair. It looks beautiful, but she is obsessed with it,
so she probably will repeat this three to four times before we get to the club.
“It looks fine, Annie.” I sigh, and she rolls her eyes. “How much longer do you need?”
“Two more minutes?”
I sit on her made-up bed, “Alright.” Annie applies a purple lipstick that goes well with her pale complexion, and smacks
her lips together. “When are you getting laid again? Tonight?”
Annie just broke up with her boyfriend of seven years, Josh, about four months ago, and she’s been sulking for at least three
of those four months. I think she’s finally turning a corner, and I’d go as far as saying tonight would be the best opportunity to
get back out there. Even if I have to Uber home on my own.
Josh and Annie had been together since middle school, but he was never attentive. He was distant, always wanting to do
things with his friends instead of her, and he was always mean to her. Even the sex was subpar, according to her, which I guess
makes sense if he didn’t know what he was doing. I don’t know how they lasted so long, but I’m glad they’re done. Finally. It
was painful how this dragged out.
“I’m not ready,” she replies.
“You had shitty sex for a long time,” I tell her with a smirk. “Go find some good sex, girl.”
“Maybe soon.”
Annie finishes fixing her hair and looking over her makeup, and then grabs a little purse off her bed right next to me. She
turns off the light on her way out of the room, and I follow after her, all but sprinting down the stairs just in case my parents are
still here. As I pass the dining room though, I notice everything is cleaned up and the house is empty.
Thankfully.
Around fifteen minutes later we’re standing outside of a club called Winx, one of the nicest clubs in the area. We usually
don’t come here; it’s for the stuck-up rich people. The mafia kids, like us. Except we don’t usually socialize with them. This is
a spot where people forget their alliances and rivalries, and just act their age and enjoy themselves. They can be whoever they
want for the night, uncaring of affiliations.
By the time we’ve cleared the line, there are about fifty people behind us. Holy crap. There’s a lot of people in this club.
We step in, following a line to the VIP section and sitting on the lounge chairs. The music is loud, the bass thumping, and I
close my eyes to get lost in it. A dainty hand touches my forearm and I open my eyes.
Annie gets closer to me so I can hear her, “Do you want to dance?”
“I do!” I reply excitedly, “But first, let’s get a drink.”
Or four.
We go to the bar, which is packed, but the guys make room for us when they see us, eyeing us appreciatively. Their gazes
roam down our bodies, our legs especially. I’m used to people telling me my legs are nice since I’m a dancer, but it's an even
bigger compliment when guys look at them that way. Not that I care; they’re not getting lucky. But maybe Annie will give one of
them a chance, so I can’t shut them down yet.
I order three shots of Jameson—the bartender winks at me and doesn’t even card me—and Annie’s eyes about bulge out of
her head, then she orders one shot of tequila. I need the alcohol more than she does, and I know she can tell because she’s now
acting like nothing is out of the ordinary, like I do this every time we come out. I don’t. But I’m on edge after that dinner, and
more than that, I’m on edge about Nikolai coming to my party on Saturday. Not that I expect him to, but the possibility is there,
and it’s making me nervous.
What was I thinking, inviting him? Am I a masochist? The pain I felt all those years ago is coming back in full force,
preventing me from sleeping and being a fully functional person. It’s as if I’ve lost him all over again, as if I’m suffering the
pain I inflicted upon us anew. Fucking Leonardo.
I should’ve never talked to Nikolai at lunch the other day. It made the pain even more fresh. He looked so genuinely
regretful for the things he said the last time we spoke, that now I don’t even care about what he said. I was hung up on it for
years, as if I didn’t fuck him over first. Maybe he had the right to feel the way he did. Who am I kidding? I know he had the
right to.
After downing all the shots of Jameson, there’s a burning sensation settling in my throat, down my esophagus, and in my
belly. Just what I’ve been needing. So I grab Annie’s hand and lead her to the dance floor. Under the Influence by Chris Brown
is playing, and we both begin to dance immediately, swaying our hips to the music seductively. I feel eyes on us, except maybe
it’s all in my imagination. This place is packed.
There’s a person behind me, getting closer, not grinding on me but definitely uncomfortably against me. Annie’s face turns
ashen as she looks behind me, and I tense. When I look, Ilya is the one swaying to the music too, plastered to my back. Why is
he here? And why did that affect my best friend so much?
Ilya grabs my face roughly and squeezes my cheeks together, “Who hit you, darling? Do I have to go beat someone’s ass?”
“Why do you care, Ilya?” I roll my eyes and he releases me. “You haven’t talked to me in years. Where’s your friend?”
Annie gets closer to us, standing next to Ilya to be able to hear our conversation. She’s not even being discreet about it;
she’s not the kind of person that pretends. “Nik⁠—”
“No.” I smile. “Dmitri.”
“Oh, he’s here.” He grins, wagging his eyebrows, and Annie’s face heats. Interesting. “With Nik.”
“Don’t call him that,” I reply through gritted teeth. That’s my nickname for him.
“Hit a nerve?” He grins, then sucks his lip piercing into his mouth.
There used to be a time when Ilya, Dmitri, Nik, and I hung out. It was fun while it lasted, but just as everything…
forbidden…so it came to an end. We became close for a while, though. It was something even Annie did not know about. Ilya
and Dmitri. I only ever told her about Nik.
I smile. “Never.”
“So, who did it? Because if Nikolai sees you like this, he will be murderous.”
“I don’t see why.” We look at each other for a moment. We both know Nikolai doesn’t owe me anything. He shouldn’t even
care what happens to me anymore. What’s done is done, and I can never take it back. Not this, anyway. “We’re done.”
“You know him.” Ilya leads me off the dance floor and to the lounge area where we were sitting earlier. “Much better.” He
says. I can hear him better now that we don’t have to raise our voices as much. It’s a secluded area. “He’s never going to be
done with you.”
“He seemed pretty done for years now.” And he did. “He never once attempted contact again.”
“He knew what was at stake⁠—”
“What is still at stake.”
“He doesn’t care anymore.”
“I do.”
Ilya huffs, puffing his chest momentarily before taking another deep breath and looking at me. “Whatever, Camilla. If you
don’t want him anymore, that’s up to you. But he will never stop.”
“I don’t care.” I lie through my teeth. “It’s never going to happen again.”
I look around the club, then stop in my tracks at the sight of Nikolai. Broad back, big shoulders, trim waist. As if he can
sense me, he turns around and makes eye contact. Heat courses through my body, and just as I mean to look away, he starts
walking toward me with purpose.
So I stand up.
And I run away.
 15 Years Old

“I said no, Alessandro!” A girl that can’t be much younger than me screams. Her waist-length dark hair is blown sideways
by the wind, and her short dress ripples too. The blue scrap of fabric is laughable, and the little daisies scattered around
the dress are cute.
I smile.
“Cazzo!” She huffs, and my skin prickles.
I’m all alone tonight, and the thought of getting caught up with Italians by myself and getting fucked up drives me to walk
away as fast as possible. I know Alessandro DeLuca. He’s a few years older than me, and ruthless. So is his father. Definitely
not what I need tonight in the middle of the night when no one will know where to find me. They won’t even know where to
start looking for me.
She turns around and makes eye contact with me, and my stomach drops. She’s the girl from a few months ago—the one
smiling at me from the table at Mandy’s. Her green eyes narrow for a moment when they meet mine, and then she laughs, but it’s
not at anything I said—it’s at her brother.
Before she can say anything or do something stupid like blow my cover, I turn around and walk away, hurrying toward my
safe sanctuary: the playground at Garry Park.
I climb up until I’m at the top of the playground and get in the longest slide, but instead of going, I just put my feet against
the walls to prevent myself from sliding to the bottom. Especially now that I hear the crunching of mulch under a pair of shoes.
I hold my breath and wait. I’m only fifteen, and if the Italians come here armed and ready, I’ll be dead in less time than it takes
to take in a breath.
“I know you’re in there!” A soft voice calls out, taunting me. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”
I smile at no one, amused by her. I could either go down this slide and face her, or stay up here and not make myself known.
What if she’s with her brother?
“Don’t be a pussy.” She scoffs, “I’m all alone. Just a small girl.”
I chuckle and let go, letting myself slide down fast. When I get to the bottom, I slam against a small, soft body.
“Stronzo!” She yells as she falls to the ground on her ass, and I laugh harder at her.
I tower over her, smirking as she looks up at me. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a potty mouth?” She says
something unintelligible under her breath, not even bothering to answer me. More like cussing me out, I assume. “You also have
beautiful eyes. Anyone told you that?” I don’t even know why I said that just now, but I can’t take it back anymore.
Those big hazel eyes narrow at me. “Are you going to help me up or not?”
“It depends.” I shrug. “Are you going to get off my playground after?”
“Your playground?” She rolls her eyes, “Where is your name on it?”
I laugh. This girl is feisty and cute. What a combination. “My name doesn’t need to be on it, princess. I’m here every night,
and no one comes until you, I guess.”
“Don’t call me princess.”
“That’s what you got from this?” I ask her with a smile. It’s as if her eyes are permanently narrowed, and her little nostrils
flare. “You need to go.”
“Why? Because I’m Italian?”
 I nod, “Precisely.”
“Well, maybe I don’t want to go!” She yells at me, finally getting up from the ground. She’s brave, I’ll give her that.
Because instead of stepping back, she steps forward. Toward me. “I don’t care that you’re Russian.”
“That makes one of us,” I tell her seriously.
“Why is everyone always fighting with you and your friends? Why can’t we all just get along?”
She really, really doesn’t get it. I stay rooted to the spot even as she gets so close that she has to look up at me. I get even
closer, until her sandals are touching my sneakers, her pink toenails right against the edge of them. Her feet look battered and
bruised, parts of toenails missing, bandaids on random toes. Wow.
The girl shrinks a little when my eyes linger on her feet, and she looks nervous when my eyes meet hers again. “One word:
Power.” She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even breathe. “We all want it.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s just how it works in the mafia, princess.” She rolls her eyes at my nickname. “But I’ll make an exception
for you. I’m Nikolai.”
“Camilla.” She sighs, stepping back. “But my friends call me Cam.”
“I don’t like that.” Camilla scrunches up her nose as I say it. “Milla sounds better.”
And that’s what I’m calling her from now on: Milla. Mee-lah.
“Milla is different.” She says slowly, “But I guess it’s alright.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be here, Camilla.” I turn around and go back to the end of the slide, then sit on it. “Go back to your
brother.”
“Nah.” She shrugs, sitting back down on the mulch, flashing me her panties on the way down. I look away, trying to be
respectful. “I want to talk to you.”
“Oh?” I ask her, “And what do you want to talk about?”
She grins. “Power.”
And then, she proceeds to ask me twenty-one questions about the mafia and why we hate each other.
T here’s a swarm of bodies invading my home. Sweaty college students move to the beat of the music, most of whom I’ve
never met, let alone seen before. There’s not one visible square foot of the downstairs area that’s unoccupied. In fact, I
can’t even see the hardwood floors from where I’m standing on the grand staircase.
I grab the banister, mainly because I don’t want to trip and fall down the steps with my new red bottoms that I haven’t
gotten the chance to break in yet. I descend and become one with the crowd.
When my brother told me that Papà approved this party at what they call just another vacation home, I already knew it was
too good to be true. They have this house in my college town so they can come to keep an eye on me whenever they want…
I’ve always been shielded, protected, and controlled. It all comes with being a sheltered mafia princess. I am still trying to
figure out their ulterior motives. They wouldn’t just let me have fun for the sake of it. Matteo DeLuca only cares about
himself… So, how does this benefit him?
It’s probably so he can shove Leo down my throat some more. Since graduation is approaching in a year, my father wants
us closer than ever before our wedding. It’s never going to happen. Even though Leo and I have an understanding, there’s still
underlying hate on my part. He hurt me more than anyone. And I won’t ever forgive him for it. Him, on the other hand? He
doesn’t care, but he’s also not nice to me. Not often, anyway. Back in high school, we were the best of friends for a while. As I
got older though, I began to understand what being forced into marriage meant for me. I’d be nothing but an object to him to use,
abuse, discard. As the Don, Leo will never hurt for women. In fact, they would throw themselves at him. And that makes him
the kind of person who has been influenced by the men in our families. They’ve taught him how to treat a wife, how they all
have treated their own. I swear they treat their whores better. And that’s why I could never love him, and I know in return, he
would never care about me again.
My little white dress rides up my thighs, and I pull it down discreetly while searching for Annie. Everyone else is dressed
similarly since my mother’s invitation said semi-formal/cocktail party. So, I’m thankfully blending in.
I finally spot Annie and begin walking over to her, bumping into a few friends and acquaintances who all wish me happy
birthday, which only delays me further. It’s not like my best friend cares about how long it takes me to reach her. She’s a little
busy at the moment. Deep in conversation with Ilya—looking ripped as fuck even in a button-down—who keeps smiling at her
in a way that makes me weak in the knees. God, she’s so fucking lucky. But when did this happen? Just two days ago, they
would barely look at each other in that club. Now they look like they’re in some kind of heated argument by the way she starts
waving her hands.
Annie is thriving here, that’s all I know. She loves drinking and partying, at least ever since she and Josh broke up. She’s
been a wild card since then, going to the clubs almost every weekend and getting drunk to forget about her pain. The last month
has been better, though. Instead, she has focused more on ballet with me, wanting the role of Odile and Odette just as much as I
do. But the weekends are still crazy. As far as I know, she hasn’t had sex with anyone.
She is the kind of girl who gets a lot of attention yet doesn’t usually return it. But something is different tonight. I can see
her observing Ilya appreciatively. Her eyes roam from his face all the way to his shoes in a way that makes me blush for him.
Something’s changed between them since I last saw him, and I want to know what it is. Just maybe not right now.
Fortunately for her, I’m not going to need her company tonight. So she’s free to make love eyes at that boy all night. It’s time
for me to get fucking wasted, maybe even bump a line, to help me forget the fact that I’m going to marry a monster, and that said
person is going to literally kill me when he sees that Nikolai has shown up to my party. If Ilya is here, then so is Nik.
No one would bat an eyelash if Leo showed up with someone, but I’d probably get murdered—or worse—if I fucked
someone else. That’s why I need to get it all out of the way before I’m tied down to him, forever. I haven’t done it yet, but I
want to.
The only reason I wanted this party in the first place was to use it as a distraction for my true purpose. With the number of
people present and taking over every inch of this house, no one will bat an eyelash when they can’t find me. They probably
won’t even notice I’m missing from my own festivities. I do have a time limit, though. I’m not wilding-out that damn much. If I
make it too obvious and my family finds out, I could mess a lot of things up for myself. Like my freedom.
I head to Annie’s side, bringing my arm around her waist to pull her in and smile at Ilya. It takes him a minute to return the
smile, except it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Honestly, I don’t care. She pinches my side, and I stiffen. This little bitch.
“Fancy seeing you again,” I say with a grin, not bothering to hide how I’m checking him out. Maybe I can convince Annie to
have a threesome. Probably not. “Why are you acting like an asshole to me? It’s my birthday.”
“You’re off limits tonight.” He smirks. “I’d get killed if I so much as smile at you.”
“And why is that?”
Ilya looks away, seemingly done with me. “Annabella,” Ilya says with a Russian accent, tipping his head. “I’ll see you
later.”
My friend looks on the verge of tears, but why? “Wait!” She grabs his hand, stopping him. “I’m not done talking.” Ilya
searches her face, focusing on her tear-filled eyes, and his jaw clenches. She still hasn’t let go of his hand, and my confusion
grows when he interlaces their fingers. Are they together? She’s my best friend, and she never mentioned this to me? When I’m
about to ask her what the fuck is happening, we’re interrupted. But of course, not by just any person. No, my life can’t be that
easy.
A hand slides from my lower back to cup my ass, and the scent of Leo—cinnamon—invades my nostrils. I would know
because no matter how much I hate him, I haven’t always. The truth is, no matter how much I don’t want to marry him, he’s
damn good at eating pussy. I’ve been fucking him regardless of how I feel. So yeah, there’s that.
I peer up at him, but just as I’m about to smirk and say something to piss him off, he already looks like he wants to rip
someone’s head off. And that expression is directed right at the tall, blond, muscular guy across from us. Not that Leo is any
less blessed in that department.
“What the fuck is D’yavolo doing here?” Leo’s honey-brown eyes grow dark with fury, and he pushes me behind him. I
knew this wasn’t going to go well. Fuck. Papà would have a field day if he heard about this, undoubtedly the bloody kind.
Even still, I feel like pissing him off a little, so I come to his side and grab his arm.
“Leo,” I say softly, and he turns to look at me. To be honest, it’s scary how his eyes soften for me, especially with what I’m
about to do. Now I feel a little bad for being a bitch. But no, he rubs women in my face all the time. I’m not going to be weak.
He hates me too.
Just as I’m about to talk, though, an equally tall man shows up at Ilya’s side. Only this guy is the complete opposite. Dark,
brooding, with silver eyes that are looking right into mine. Nikolai. I don’t like how they narrow at me. In fact, I want him to
look away. He seems poised for a fight, with his arms crossed over his chest and his body tense. “I invited them.”
Leo’s eyes turn to slits as they take me in from head to toe. He closes the space between us quicker than a flash. His hand
comes to my jaw, gripping tightly, painfully. “What are you talking about, tesoro mio?” My sweetheart. I roll my eyes and
smile through the pain, goading him on.
I can see the brooding, dark-haired man walking closer, and Leo smiles. I know that psychotic smile means he’s ready to
inflict pain, and I try to shake my head at Nik, but the grip on my jaw prevents me from moving my head.
“Let her go.” His voice is deep, and tingles erupt over my body. “Or this is going to get fucking ugly.”
Leo grins, shaking his head. Nikolai’s hand squeezes Leo’s arm roughly, and I know he’s made a mistake. “Get your filthy
hand off me before it’s no longer part of your body.”
“I’m not scared of you, Demoni.” Nikolai chuckles. “Get your hands off her.”
“She,” Leo firmly flexes his fingers against my face once more, which I’m fairly sure will have bruises tomorrow, and
smirks, “is mine. I’m sure you still remember that, though.”
Nik’s jaw clenches, but he ignores Leo’s jab. “Yet you treat her like she’s garbage.”
Why does he even care? I hurt him.
However, Nikolai and Leo’s rivalry goes beyond what happened between the three of us. It goes deeper, a hatred instilled
in us since before we met, knowing we were already enemies as mafia families. As Cosa Nostra and Bratva.
The D’yavolo and Demoni are similar to societies at Atlantic University, and, of course, we hate each other for those
reasons as well. Only I don’t hate them. Not really.
“Leo, you’re hurting me.” I gasp out. My eyes do sting from the tears that spring to them, and I blink them repeatedly, not
wanting to show him more weakness than this. “Per favore,” I whisper.
Leonardo brings his lips to my ear, and I shiver reflexively. “I will fucking skin him alive, Camilla.” I believe him, which
probably makes me a bad person because I don’t care. “But if that’s what you want, by all means, go ahead.”
“I don’t think you care that much.” We make eye contact as he pulls back, and a traitorous tear escapes me as Leo brushes it
away with his thumb.
 “Not anymore, I don’t,” he says with a smirk. “Go ahead, tesoro mio. Betray me. I know some things you don’t.” I don’t
reply even through my curiosity, which clearly makes him angry, but he still decides to let go of me.
I’m surprised. I thought he’d hoist me over his shoulder and carry me away from them in a show of power. What kind of
game is he playing? He’d never allow this disrespect.
I don’t wait to get away, though. As soon as I’m released, I walk as quickly as I can—damn these high heels—and go
hunting for a shot. I end up having five. I’m kind of drunk when a guy offers to let me bump a line, and I take him up on it,
bringing a straw to my nose and forcefully snorting. I taste it and grimace as the postnasal drip hits me. It’s intense, but the rush
makes up for all of it. Yes, this is precisely what I needed. Now I can have fun like I was supposed to before the asshole
showed up.
Sweaty bodies rub up against me as I walk through the house, slightly disoriented, and make my way back up the stairs. I
need to use the bathroom, and then I want to take a dip in the heated pool. Maybe even drown in it, if I’m lucky. There’s no
other way to get out of this shit life that has been predetermined for me since before I was born. I don’t want to be a part of any
of the plans my family has thrust upon me, yet here I am with no choice.
I’m sure we could truly fall in love if I gave it a shot with Leo. At least I could. I don’t think he is capable of that emotion.
But that’s the main problem. I don’t want to be obsessed with someone who will never return the sentiment, especially when
he’s a hurtful asshole. He doesn’t care about my feelings in the slightest.
Once in the bathroom, I take care of business and wipe the smeared mascara from under my eyes. As I suspected, I still
have Leo’s fingerprints on my face. I sigh, gripping the vanity, and hang my head. I can’t be going back to the party like this;
there’s no way people won’t ask what happened. Then again, I can’t hide up here for the rest of the night.
I go back out to my room, looking for my bathing suits in the bottom left drawer of the dresser, and I bend down to grab one.
Only just as my hands close around one and shut the drawer, I hear heavy footsteps halt right behind me. I’m in for it now. I just
know Leo is pissed as can be, and I’m about to be punished.
I stand, my back going ramrod straight, but I take too long to turn around before a hard, muscular body presses to my back.
My eyes close without my permission, and I smirk. If he’s going to punish me, might as well be willing, right?
A hand comes around my neck, squeezing lightly as I turn around, making my eyes bulge out with surprise. “Not who you
expected to see tonight, princess?” All the air whooshes out of my lungs in one forceful exhalation, and Nikolai smirks. I drop
my bathing suit to the ground, and his smirk expands into a grin.
There’s not much to say, so I shake my head. “W-what are you doing in here here?” Something tells me I should be scared
of him. And I am. With trembling hands, I wrap my fingers around his wrist and attempt to remove his grip from my neck, but
the way he narrows his eyes has me canceling all plans.
“I’m here for you, solnyshko. You said we would talk, but I’m not really in the mood for it, if I’m being honest.”
I narrow my eyes. “And what do you want?”
He smiles, ignoring my question. “I will ask you one thing, though. Why did you let him treat you that way?” He turns my
face from side to side as he inspects the marks on my skin. “Do you like violence? Is that what turns you on?”
“What are you talking about?”
“He got away with treating you like shit,” His hand goes from my neck to my dark curls, and he wraps them around his fist,
yanking roughly until I yelp in pain. “Do you let everyone do that? Or just worthless motherfuckers? The girl I knew was
stronger than this. You broke up with him back then, remember?”
My scalp stings, but even through the pain, I try to untangle myself from his hold. It’s useless. “I don’t have a choice. He’s
going to be my husband.” His grip tightens on me. “That’s why I’m going to have my fun tonight, and I won’t think of the
consequences anymore.”
Nikolai laughs darkly, “Oh?” More pain, more burning. My panties stick to my sensitive skin, and I try to press my thighs
together, but I’m unable to. “And how are you going to do that?”
“I planned to fuck a stranger tonight.”
He walks me forward, forcefully pushing me onto the bed, my belly meeting the edge of the mattress so I’m bent at the
waist. Then he yanks my dress up, exposing my ass to him. “You’re bad, aren’t you? You’ve changed.” The loud sound of the
slap registers before the sharp sting, and my breath hitches in my throat when I feel it. My panties are soaked, I already know it.
Goddamnit, this is so embarrassing. But at the same time, it’s not. This is how it should’ve been for us. “Lucky for you, I’m a
stranger now and feeling generous enough to take you up on it.”
Warm hands run up my thighs, and I feel his breath between them as he kneels behind me. “I have wanted to do this for so
long, but you took it away from me.” He bites me softly on the inside of my thigh and the bottom of my ass cheek, until he
spreads my ass apart with both hands and licks my panties right over my pussy. I moan, fisting the sheets, and I’m grateful the
only light in this room is the one coming from the bathroom. Which, thankfully, is not bright from this far away. I feel so fucking
exposed.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I groan, tightening my hands around the sheets.
“I thought you told Ilya never again, hmm?” I’m entirely aware that this is a bad idea. He snuck into my room, manhandled
me, and was not exactly waiting for me to consent before taking me. Apart from all that, I can’t bring myself to stop it. I’m so
turned-on I’m probably going to come in ten seconds if he even lets me, and I want him to do a lot more than what he’s doing
right now. “But you want this, don’t you? You’ve wanted this for so long, just like me.”
He roughly pulls my thong down my legs, the lace teasing my skin, and buries his face between my thighs from behind. I
push my ass up as far as it’ll go, spreading my legs and getting on my tiptoes to get him in the right spot. His fingers spread me
wide, and he fucks me with his tongue before sucking on my clit softly. My eyes roll to the back of my head as my toes curl,
setting me off balance, and he chuckles against me as I moan loudly. Goddamn.
“If I knew you’d taste this fucking good,” Nikolai licks me slowly again, swirling his tongue over my clit, “I would’ve
done this before.” Before everything fell apart.
I don’t want to make conversation, even if his words are getting me wetter. I just want to come. I want to forget all about
my future and what it holds. He begins to lick me again. “Could you shut up,” I push my ass back into his face, riding his
tongue, “and make me come?”
Nikolai grunts, grabbing my hips and lifting me higher until his whole face is on me. I’m literally in the air with nowhere to
support myself as he literally devours me—that’s the only way I can describe how he’s eating my pussy right now. I bite down
on the sheets, gagging as they’re shoved further into my mouth from how I’m convulsing on the bed.
The familiar tingling sensation I get when I’m close is present, yet something else is, too, something urgent. I ride his tongue
as much as I can with the way he’s holding me, and I have an urgent need to go faster. I want more, more, more. It’s a sensory
overload when I finally explode, bright white spots invading my vision. “Are you seeing stars yet, princess?”
“Yes,” I moan as I shake, “Fuck, yes!”
“Count them for me.” Nikolai sucks my clit into his mouth, and I buck my hips, trying to run away from how sensitive it
feels, “I’m about to make you see more.” And sure enough, I don’t know how he does it, but he makes me come again. I scream
this time, but I’m certain no one else heard it between the sheets gagging me and the loud music.
He knows, though, and when he lets me down gently and my toes hit the ground, I hear the sound of a belt whipping out of
the loops of his pants, rustling, and the sound of a zipper. I only have enough time to pull the damn sheets out of my mouth
before the leather lands on my ass, and I scream again, then try to scoot up on the bed.
“Oh no, you don’t.” His voice is kind of condescending, and it pisses me off a little as he grabs me by the ankle and pulls
me toward him. I kick him with my other leg, and he grunts, but his grip doesn’t falter. “This little cunt is mine tonight.” He
pulls me toward him again, spreading my legs until his hips are between them. “I’ve waited long enough.”
I feel the head of his cock lined against my entrance, “Wait…” I pant, licking my lips. I don’t even know what I want right
now. To stop. To keep going. For him to leave me. To take me. I think he’s just going to have to give me no choice in the matter.
Maybe I’ll feel less guilty then. “No.”
Nikolai groans, “I don’t like that word, Camilla.” He rubs the head of his cock up and down my slit, teasing me by pushing
it between my lips slightly. His front comes to my back, trapping me against the mattress before he brutally shoves himself
inside of me. In a shrill scream, the air is stolen from me, and his teeth clamp down on my earlobe.
“We can’t, Nik,” I pant, even if it’s the only thing I want right now. Except I remember that night at the park. “He will kill
us.”
“I don’t give a fuck, Camilla.”
“I don’t want you.”
“If you don’t want me to fuck you, why are you so soaked for me?”
The biggest problem is that he’s not wrong; I do want him to fuck me. I just want him to take me, to force me. So I don’t feel
guilty for what I’m doing to us.
One hand comes to my plunging neckline, and rather than grabbing my breast like I thought he would, he rips my dress until
they’re both spilling out. Then he squeezes one so hard I almost scream again. But I need the pain. I crave it.
He pounds into me savagely, his hips driving into my ass with so much force that I’m holding my breath from the way it
hurts, but it also feels so good at the same time. I hear the metal of the belt again as he grabs it. Rather than spanking me, he
wraps it around my neck and pulls tightly, stealing my breath, though not completely. “Does it hurt yet?”
I smirk as he hits deeper inside me. “More,” I beg in a hoarse whisper. “Hurt me more.”
The leather of the belt pinches my neck painfully as he pulls it even tighter, and now I have no slack to breathe. I try, but no
air can get into my lungs. His hand comes around my body slowly, and when his fingers begin to rub my clit aggressively, my
body demands for me to breathe. Only I can’t. Instead, my mouth opens on a gasp as my chest is on fire, burning so painfully
that tears begin to flood my eyes and run down my cheeks. But holy shit, it’s worth it because I will never forget the way my
body responds to him. He plays me like an instrument, his fingers plucking all the right strings, making me beg him for more.
I’m about to come so good⁠—
Nikolai stops abruptly, loosening his belt from around my neck, and I sag onto the bed with disappointment.
“I want this,” Nik whispers, his thumb coming to rub my puckered hole.
“I—” Fuck. “I’ve never been… fucked there before.”
 “That’s the point,” he grunts. “I’m taking what’s mine tonight.”
Nik’s hands come to my hips, and he spreads me shamelessly. My face burns, and then I feel his warm breath between my
ass cheeks right before he spits on me. Out of everything I imagined fucking him would be like, I never accounted for this. How
filthy he would be—how much I would love it.
“Do you like that princess?” Nikolai asks, his tongue circling my ass. Goddamn, it feels incredible, but he stops quickly
and settles in behind me again, lining his cock against my ass.
“Yes,” I moan. “Are you gonna fuck me…there?”
“In your ass?” I can just imagine the smirk on his face, even though I can’t see it. “Yes, princess. I’m gonna fuck your ass so
good you’re never going to think of him again.”
Nikolai thrusts into my pussy roughly, once, twice, three times. Then he lines himself against my ass again and presses
himself against it. His hand grips my hip softly, and I feel him shaking like he’s trying to restrain himself. He slowly enters me,
and I immediately feel the burn. I gasp in pain, and he shushes me.
“It’s okay, Milla,” he whispers, and I relax. “Just let me in.”
Inch by inch, he enters me, going through the ring of muscle until I can’t breathe, and then bottoms out. He stays still for a
moment until the feeling of being uncomfortably full takes over, and I shift my hips.
“Move,” I gasp out. “Please.”
Nikolai chuckles, and then his grip on my hip tightens until it feels like it will break, and his free hand wraps around my
hair. Then he yanks my head back. Hard.
I stare up at the ceiling as tears stream down my cheeks, and he thrusts in and out of my ass slowly, at a languid pace, like
he has all fucking day. But I can’t deny that it feels incredible, and I reach between my legs and rub my clit slowly to the pace
he’s fucking me.
My moans are low, but they sound so loud in the silence. His grunts of pleasure are rivaling the volume of my own, and a
shiver runs down my spine. I’ve thought of this moment for so long. I’ve dreamed of it. I used to crave it. Him. But having the
real thing? Nothing compares to it.
He speeds up, his hips slapping against me now louder than us, and I speed my fingers up as well. My spine begins to
tingle, and heat rushes down to my clit. I’m fucking desperate to come, and I meet him thrust for thrust, slapping my ass against
him.
Nikolai lets go of my hair, his front coming to my back, and he buries his face into the crook of my neck and bites down just
as I begin to shake. The orgasm hits me so hard I can scarcely breathe. I scream out, the intensity of the pleasure zapping
through my body feels more heightened than being fucked in my pussy, and I can barely see straight when Nikolai straightens
out and begins to rail me in earnest this time. He grips my hips roughly, groaning loudly, then comes in my ass.
Light spills into the room, my door shutting loudly, and I look at Nik. As I try to escape, he tightens his grip on my hips,
preventing me from moving even an inch. He looks back over his shoulder, and smiles.
Leo stands a few feet from the bed, looking between me and Nikolai, who is still inside me, with rage on his face. He
advances toward us, but Nikolai puts his hand up in a halting motion, and surprisingly, Leo listens.
Nikolai pushes me onto the bed, crushing my cheek against the mattress until I’m making eye contact with the devil, pulling
out of me. I stiffen from the emptiness as I feel the cum start to run down my ass. “So messy,” Nikolai says as he stuffs it back
in. “Let’s not waste it, princess.”
I drop my eyes, yet not before I see Leo’s flare with anger. His face is hard as stone, not betraying any emotion, as he turns
on his heel and walks to the door. “If you’re going to act like a worthless whore, tesoro mio,” He peers at me over his
shoulder, and I freeze. “I’m going to treat you like one.”
And with that, he walks out, crushing me under the thousand-pound weight of anxiety that no amount of orgasms could make
better. This was a terrible idea, one which I’m sure will have plenty of consequences for me.
T he door to the bedroom slams shut, rattling the walls, but it doesn’t scare me. Actually, it only makes the smile on my
face grow even wider. None of this was my intention when I showed up, and the last thing I expected was to fuck her
after everything that happened between us. However, when an opportunity falls into your lap, well, as the saying goes,
she fell into mine. And I wasn’t about to say no when she basically put herself on a silver platter.
I didn’t like how I felt, though. Sure, fucking her was amazing, but every cunt feels good in its own way. I shouldn’t feel so
possessive over her, but I do. God, I still do. And when Leo came in and saw me pushing my cum back into her, I felt joy when
he got pissed off. It must be for the simple fact that I want to see him suffer. Even if she’s probably not as significant to him as I
think she is. He’ll still care somewhat since his ego will not allow him to share her with anyone. In his head, Camilla is his.
Even though in my heart I know she will always be mine.
Camilla is still immobile, her ass up in the air while her cheek is on the bed. She turns her face toward the mattress,
essentially burying it. Her shoulders tremble a little, except I’m more mesmerized by my cum dripping out of her ass. You’d
think I’ve never seen a woman naked before.
I retrieve my pants, pull them up, and then take a few steps back from the bed to look at the scene before me. I focus all my
attention on the woman in front of me instead. She still hasn’t moved, and I hear her crying even though it’s barely audible. My
right hand hovers over her lower back, but I pull it away before I make contact with her skin. Fuck, I don’t know how to
comfort her anymore. I don’t know if she wants me to.
“Did I hurt you, princess?” I ask her, half-scared, that I did even if I shouldn’t give a damn. Camilla shifts her body until
she’s lying on her side, pulling her knees up into the fetal position and hugging them with her arms.
More sniffles. “No.”
I get closer to her and kneel next to the bed until I’m at face-level with her, and the way her hazel eyes fill with tears again
makes me want to punch something. If it wasn’t me, then who? “Then what’s wrong?”
“You know what’s wrong.”
“Wait,” I huff out a low laugh, “You’re crying over that asshole?”
Camilla’s hand shoots out and grabs my jaw quicker than I can blink. It’s kind of funny how I didn’t see that coming, but my
body isn’t having the response she hopes for. Instead, I’m turned on, my cock cramped in my pants. I want her violence. When
her nails dig into my skin, I grab her wrist and push her fingers in deeper. Let her hurt me, I’ll just find a way to get even again.
“That asshole,” she says through gritted teeth, her chest heaving and drawing my gaze to her pierced tits. I flit my eyes back
to hers, “is going to be my husband, and now I’m as good as dead.”
“Having regrets already, solnyshko?” I won’t lie, she’s kind of hurting my face, but the difference is that I’m letting her do
it. This could stop quickly if I wanted it to, but my curiosity is getting the best of me for some reason. I’d like to see how far
she will take this, and how much she will spill in the process. “Aren’t you the love of his life?”
You’re the love of mine.
Camilla laughs, rough and low and husky, and I love it. Although the circumstances definitely don’t call for those thoughts.
“He called me a whore, and you think he gives a shit about me?” He only called her that because he was pissed. Although
maybe he did mean it to some extent. I was fucking her in the ass when he walked in, after all.
“People have said worse to their loved ones.” Me. I’ve said worse to her.
Her face changes, like a dark cloud has shifted over the sun. She drops her eyes, one tear escaping and immediately soaking
the sheets. “Get out.”
“No.”
 She lets go of my face, surely with skin under her fingernails, and kneels on the bed. With wide eyes and tear tracks on her
cheeks, she looks gorgeous and unhinged. “Get the fuck out!” Camilla’s scream echoes in the room, hurting my ears, and I don’t
even think. I just react.
My hands wrap around her neck, and she falls back onto the mattress. Then I straddle her hips and put my weight on her.
The way she struggles is not exactly what I expected. No, it’s so much better. “I don’t appreciate being screamed at, princess.
Next time I’ll gag you with my cock until you’re choking on it.” Her eyes roll back, lips turning blue, and I ease up on my grip.
“And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll let you breathe again.”
I know I’m treating her differently, but I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m not a lovesick puppy anymore. She has hurt me, and
even though I apologized for hurting her back, even though we were supposed to have forgiven each other, a part of me still
wants to hurt her.
I sit back on my haunches, my legs still partially straddling her hips, and she begins to cough violently. Her hands reach for
her neck as if I’m still strangling her, and her face turns a deep shade of red. Noticeable even in the low lighting. “Kill me,
then.” Camilla smiles through the pain. “Put me out of my misery.”
I tsk, “No one said anything about killing you, Camilla.” I chuckle. “I think I’d like to see you suffer, but only if I’m the one
causing the pain.”
With that, I get off her and stand next to the bed. She probably thinks I will leave now, but instead, I pick her up off the bed
and carry her bridal style to the bathroom. I lean over the jet tub, turning the knob to the right temperature, then put her in.
She relaxes back in the water and looks up at the ceiling, showing how blown her pupils are. What the fuck did she take?
And when? “You can go now, Nikolai.” My name on her lips makes me tingle, but there’s no way I’m leaving her here alone.
I laugh, “And let you drown?” I get undressed, taking off my pants first and then my black shirt, then join her in the tub.
“What did you take?”
“What does it matter to you?” She smiles. “Wouldn’t it be best if I just died and Leo was devastated?”
“Oh, Milla.” I sigh, getting closer to her, then reach out and brush my thumb over the streaked makeup on her cheek. “You
just said he doesn’t give a fuck about you.” I want him to indeed suffer, I just don’t think it’ll be due to her.
Camilla’s eyes water and her hand raises as if to hit me, but she lowers it back into the water as her lips tremble. “I know.”
She whispers, “No one ever has.”
Fucking Liar.
“That’s not true, and you know it,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’ve always cared.”
She doesn’t reply.
“Come here,” I tell her, pulling her onto my lap until her cheek rests on my chest, and she wraps her arms around me tightly.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know he doesn’t care about me.” She begins, “You know why I broke up with him. He still thinks he can get back at me
by rubbing women in my face. But me? I’m helpless. Forever shackled to him.”
“So, what?” He’s going to do it anyway, in front of her or behind her back. I don’t see him being faithful to her—ever. “Let
him.”
Camilla stiffens, “And have him make a fool of me?” She looks up at me with narrowed eyes. “So he gets to have sex with
me whenever he wants, rub other women in my face, but I don’t get to do it with anyone else?”
That’s why he was so strung up when he found me with her. It wasn’t just an ego problem; it’s not that he doesn’t want
anyone else to have her because she’s engaged to him. He’s fucked her repeatedly. That’s why he won’t let it go.
“That last part is up to you.”
“It’s not.” Her voice trembles slightly. “He will let them all take turns with me for being a whore. Leo already said he
would.” Judging from how he talked to her, I wouldn't doubt it, but I should probably change the subject. It’s not far-fetched for
her to think so, though; a small part of me wants to save her from that fate. Another part of me wants to see if Leo will suffer
from losing her. Even if just a little bit.
“I won’t let that happen.”
I grab the soap from the ledge and lather her up, lingering on her tits a little longer because they’re beautiful. It’s a damn
shame I hadn’t seen them earlier on. And when did she get them pierced?
I knead them softly, and she moans while digging her nails into my thighs. But I let go when she does. I don’t think I can
control myself around her anymore, and she isn’t ready for what I want from her. I can tell. But I don’t care, I’ll get it one way
or another.
When she’s all soaped up, she submerges herself to her neck, trying to rinse herself. Her face hasn’t changed at all, but her
body? Her breasts are fuller, her hourglass figure more accentuated by her wider hips, and even though she’s thinner than she
used to be, she looks like a woman. Even her legs are stronger, her muscles larger. You can tell she’s had even more years of
dancing under her belt.
The way she keeps staring at me with those captivating eyes makes me want to leave her here and never return. This can’t
be a good idea. If I get involved with her any further than I already have, my father might gut me before the Italians even get the
chance. All because I fell in love with the wrong girl.
Once back up, she gets close to me, looking into my eyes. Her pupils are slowly getting smaller, and I can see more of her
eyes. They’re a deep green with orange flecks in the center. What’s the most intriguing is the blue limbal ring, and it makes her
eyes seem mystical. I’ve memorized every fleck and how they look with every emotion that crosses her face.
Camilla reaches up and brushes my dark hair away from my face, and we just stare at each other for what feels like forever.
Not moving. I’m barely even breathing. I tilt my head slightly, trying to figure out what she wants, when she catches me off
guard and presses her lips to mine.
My eyes close of their own accord, and the first thing that comes to mind is how I haven’t done this in a very long time. The
last time was with her. It just feels too intimate. Fucking can mean nothing at all if you decide that, but kissing? That shit is
personal. Hers were the best kisses of my life—the only ones. And I’ve never wanted to do it again with anyone but her. This
feels like a gift.
I stay still as her hand wraps around the back of my head, pulling me in closer, and I groan when she sucks my bottom lip
between hers. When she responds with her own moan, I nearly lose my composure. I want to fuck her in this tub, push her face
under the water and drown her until she can’t think of anyone else.
Get it the fuck together.
But instead of doing all that, I thrust my tongue into her mouth because that’s the most I’m going to allow myself to do to her
in this bathroom. I need to get out, yet she keeps digging her nails into me and pulling at my hair. It makes me want to hurt her
even more. Mark her. Show everyone I own her.
I hear a thump outside of the bathroom, and I get out of the tub, sloshing water everywhere on the way out. I don’t bother
drying myself and just put my pants and shirt back on, then take my knife out of my pocket.
The door opens and in walks Leonardo Colombo.
I keep my knife close, not wanting him to see it still. I don’t want to start the damn fight, but I’ll finish it if I have to. The
water runs down my back, making my shirt stick to my skin, and I quickly regret putting it on.
Leo takes in the scene in front of him. He looks at Camilla first, naked in the tub, leaning her head back on the tiled wall
with streaked makeup all over her cheeks. It kind of makes her look like a raccoon for a second, and I try to hold in my smirk.
She’s a beautiful disaster.
The son of a bitch pulls a handgun out and points it directly at my face, making me smile. Does he think I’m scared of him?
I’d welcome death with a smile on my face right here, right now.
“What the fuck do you want?” Leo asks me, rooted to the spot. “To piss me off?” Maybe it’s a stupid decision. I should
probably stay where I am instead of instigating him, but I can’t help myself. I hate him for what he did to me. Yeah, this is
personal, and I will make it my mission to ruin his life. He took her from me, in more ways than one.
I walk toward him until my forehead meets the barrel of his gun, and then I push against it. “Did it work?” I smirk, and his
jaw clenches. He acts like he didn’t do anything to me, which is even worse than if he acted like an asshole about it. Leonardo
doesn’t even acknowledge the way he ruined my life because he doesn’t give a fuck about anyone, only himself.
“Stay away from Camilla.” He presses the gun to my forehead, and I push back against him, making him stumble. “Or
you’re going to wish I would’ve killed you right now.”
“Oh, I’m already wishing you would,” I reply, flicking my knife open and bringing it under his chin before he can even
blink. I press the tip into his skin, and a trail of blood drips down his neck and onto his white button-up. He should know better
than to wear this shit anyway. “Because if you don’t kill me right here, I will hunt you down until I’m tired of playing with you.
Then I’ll slit your throat when I get bored.”
“I have a gun to your fucking head, and this is what you do?” Leo chuckles, which only puts more pressure on his skin as
more blood trails down his front.
“Let’s see who’s quicker?”
The water splashes behind us, and I can tell Camilla is standing even though I can’t see her. “Are you going to put your
dicks away?” she sighs, “This is getting boring.”
Leo drops the gun, and I lower my hand to my side. He makes no move to touch the wound on his neck, displaying no
weakness. I’ll keep this in mind when I torture him. I’ll have to be more dramatic when it happens. He will scream for me.
This time though, I’m the one who’s leaving. He and Camila have unresolved issues, and there’s nothing I can do to prevent
him from punishing her somehow. I don’t want to be around to find out what it will be or get irrational and stop him. I have to
remember she’s just another pawn in my game. A vital pawn in my plot for revenge against him.
That’s all she will ever be to me again: a means to an end.
And that’s why I walk away from her without looking back, slamming the door shut and leaving her behind with what will
probably be her own personal hell tonight.
 15 Years Old

I t’s been three months since I’ve come to Garry Park almost every night to meet up with Nik. Three months of endless
laughter and three months of the most beautiful silver eyes I’ve ever seen. Not that I would ever admit that his smile lights
me up on the inside, more so than Leo’s ever has. That, I will take to my grave. Nik seems to be humoring me, meeting me
every night because he’s already here. Besides, he’s a year older, and I doubt he wants to be with a little girl like me. No, he
must be focused on what boys his age are doing. Like having sex with lots of girls to get experience. At least, that’s what Leo
has been doing lately. When he realized I wouldn’t give him my virginity at fifteen years old, I guess that was a deal breaker.
I keep telling myself I’m not hurt, but I am slightly wounded that he’s not my boyfriend anymore, and we’re not even
friends. Mamma said I should forgive him, considering he’s my future husband, but I don’t think so. At least not anytime soon.
Not until he gets it together and doesn’t take me for granted anymore. Which means he has to stop flirting and fucking
everything that has a vagina. That probably won’t happen for a long time.
Nik doesn’t treat me like that though, which is probably why I feel he doesn’t like me. That’s alright, I only need a friend
right now. Being Leo’s girlfriend was enough of a disaster for many years to come.
The crunch of the mulch under my Nikes is the only sound as I make my way toward the slide, knowing my friend is inside
of it, just staying there until he knows it’s me, then barreling his way down. He likes to pretend he doesn’t mean to bump into
me, but he loves to annoy me, so he hits me on the way down every single time. My secret? I like when he does it, so I let him.
“It’s me, Nikki,” I sing, and he groans at the nickname.
“Do you always have to call me that?”
“You gave me a nickname.” I smile, waiting for him to come down the slide. “It’s only fair I give you one too.”
Nik is on me in a second, tackling me to the ground. His weight is pressed against my body and I scrunch my nose when his
breath hits my ear. “But my nickname for you is actually beautiful, Camilla.”
“Whatever,” I huff, noticing the bottle of Vodka in his hand, right next to my head. “That could’ve hit me, you know.”
“You’re real dramatic, you know.” He mocks the way I speak, constantly. “I figured I’d have some fun today. It’s Saturday,
after all.”
“You could be out with your friends,” I tell him, as if being here with me wastes his time. And maybe it does. I don’t know
how he feels about it. “Partying, getting girls, or whatever it is sixteen-year-old boys do.”
“I could be out with my friends.” He nods, his breath on my face, smelling of mint and Vodka. So he’s been drinking
already. “I am out with my friend.”
“You are?”
“Did you think I came out here because I feel an obligation toward you?” He chuckles, lifting off me in a wobbly attempt,
and I push him off to try to help him. “If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t risk my head for seeing you.”
I guess he has a point.
“So you don’t want to be with girls?”
“Are you a boy?” His face lights up with a smile, like that should say enough.
So he needs girls at other times? But no, I can’t say that. He’ll think I’m crazy. We’re just friends, crazy.
“Ugh, shut up.” I laugh. “Can you even get on the playground?”
“Probably not.” He smiles and points under the slide. “But we can sit under there.”
 “There’s probably spiders.”
“I’ll save you from them.” Nikolai stumbles toward the slide and I follow. “I could be like Spider-Man.”
“You’re not that funny, you know.” He is, sometimes, although I don’t want his ego to be bigger than it is.
“Are you scared, little chicken?”
“And if I am?”
“I said I’d protect you.” His voice darkens. “I always will.”
Always? That seems a little extreme.
“Fine.” I roll my eyes, “I’ll sit with you.”
“Good.” He nods once as he plops down on the mulch, obscured by the slide. “Now, tell me about your day.”
We do this every time we see each other. Talk about our day, except it feels like he’s always keeping something from me,
never divulging all his secrets. His days are pretty tame for being in the Bratva, even for a sixteen-year-old. I know they must
have jobs for him already; I’m not stupid. Alessandro has a job at nineteen, and Leo has a few jobs at fifteen as well. Not big
ones, but responsibilities, nevertheless.
“It was fine.” I lie.
He looks at me with a raised eyebrow, knowing I’m not okay even while drunk. “Try again, princess.”
Again, with the princess.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
He looks at me with tender eyes as if knowing it’s about Leo. He can read me like an open book, and it makes me nervous
sometimes. “I have all night. So what do you want to talk about?”
Nik uncaps the Vodka and takes another swig, half the bottle gone.
“Question one hundred and twenty,” I announce. “When did you start drinking?”
He laughs, choking on the drink. After it subsides a little, he taps his chest and coughs again. “When I was your age.”
“I’ve never had a drink.”
“Bullshit.”
I cringe. It must be surprising to meet someone inexperienced like me, and it reminds me of Leo all over again. He must
notice because his face softens and he touches my hand briefly, then withdraws it like it burned him. I kind of want him to do it
again, but I stay very, very still. “I’ve never had a drink. I’m a woman.”
“So?” He scoffs, offering me the bottle. “Here, have some of mine.”
“But your mouth was on it.”
“So pretend it’s a kiss.” He winks, and my insides melt. “Just take a sip, it won’t hurt.”
“Liar.” I laugh, “Although I’ll do it for the kiss.” I wink back.
His face heats up, a blush creeping to his cheeks. It’s actually adorable. I never thought I’d see him blush. “If you want it to
be closer to a kiss, I got you.”
“No thanks,” I lie, prying the bottle from his hand and taking a swig.
The liquor tastes disgusting, burning my tongue and throat on the way down. My insides turn warm as if I’m sunburned from
the inside out. I never want to do that again. God, that’s nasty. I begin to cough violently as the last of the swig goes to my
throat, and it begins to come out of my nose in spurts.
Nik starts laughing uncontrollably, falling back on the ground and clutching his belly. “That was cute, Camilla.”
“That was…disgusting.”
“It’s because you have to do a small amount, silly,” he says in a duh tone. “Here, I’ll show you.”
“You can keep this damn bottle,” I reply with an attitude like the Vodka wounded me.
Nikolai sits up and takes the bottle back, taking a small sip. “I didn’t say anything about the bottle. Now come here.”
I scoot closer until we’re sitting right next to each other, our legs brushing. I ignore the flutters in my stomach and look at
him. Silver eyes fix on mine, the pupils widening and shrinking rapidly. There’s a black freckle in his right eye that I can’t stop
looking at, and sometimes, like right now, his eyes turn darker when he looks at me. Like a stormy day. Dark gray.
“I will take a small sip and put it in your mouth.”
“Huh? Like a kiss?” I ask, outraged.
“It doesn’t count as a kiss if I’m not touching you.” He wags his eyebrows and my face heats up. What does count as a kiss
anyway? Surely not putting liquor in someone else’s mouth.
So I shrug. “Okay.”
Nik leans in and presses his lips to mine and I close my eyes. The butterflies in my belly rage as I open my mouth and he
opens his. Then, when his tongue slips into my mouth slightly, shoving liquor between my lips, I tighten my legs.
He pulls away immediately.
It wasn’t a lot of Vodka, and it actually goes down smoothly. My head spins a little, and I almost want him to do it again,
but instead, I grab the bottle and take a small sip. And another. And another.
“See?” He grins, white teeth on display. “That wasn’t so bad, yeah?”
 “I could get used to this.” I smile, feeling more than a little dizzy already. “But I think I’m drunk.”
“Such a lightweight,” he jokes. “Let’s play our game.”
“Okay.”
“Question one hundred and twenty-one.” I laugh when he puts his forefinger on his chin and taps it. “What was wrong with
you earlier? And don’t say nothing. The rules are the rules, and I don’t make them.”
I clear my throat once in a nervous gesture, which he already knows is one, and he narrows his eyes. He probably knows
what direction this is going, and he already hates Leo from everything I’ve said. “I’m just sad. It sucks seeing Leo…flirting
with other girls.”
“That’s not new, Milla.”
“But I still have to see him, Nik!” I argue. “I broke up with him today.” My voice cracks and his eyes widen. “I can’t be his
best friend anymore.”
“One would argue that you’ve already had a different best friend. Isn’t that cheating?”
“Best friend cheating?” I frown.
“Yeah.” He nods.
“I mean, I guess you are my best friend.”
“You don’t need him, princess,” he starts.
“Don’t call me⁠—”
“You have me.” He smiles, and I look into his eyes. There’s so much honesty there that it scares me. “You’ll never need
more than that.”
“Oh?” I laugh, “Am I not allowed any other best friends?”
“Not anymore.” His smile lights me up from the inside out. He just never stops smiling around me, and it brings me so much
joy knowing I do that to someone. “We’re everything, so you need nothing else.”
My belly somersaults again. “Annie won’t be happy with that,” I joke.
“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”
I sigh, “It’s getting late.” I look around the empty park, suddenly afraid. “I have to go home.”
Nik’s fear is palpable as he looks at me, then grabs my hand and squeezes once. We look at each other briefly, and he opens
his mouth and shuts it. My head tilts to the side as I wait for him to speak, but it’s as if the air has grown thick. Does he feel it
too?
“I’ll go with you.”
“No, Nik, what if you get hurt?”
“I will go with you, Camilla.” His tone cuts off my argument, and he doesn’t even say my name in the endearing way he
usually does. “I don’t care about me. You need to get home safe.”
“I’m not your responsibility.”
“You’re just my favorite person.”
Tears spring to my eyes as he gets up from the mulch, leaving the Vodka behind and holding his hand out to me. Our fingers
brush for a moment, and I stop and look at him. But his expectant face makes me grab it. He hauls me up with a smile and drops
his hand as soon as I’m on my feet, making me miss it.
And then he walks me home.
I ’m standing here, naked, wondering what I got myself into. The coke is wearing off, one hit not enough for the high I’m used
to now, and I stiffen when Nikolai’s back turns and he walks out the door.
Leo laughs coldly, “You know,” He starts, “While you’re mingling with the filth, some of us have had to cover your ass
when people can’t find you at your own party.”
“Oh?” I join in the laughter as I dry myself with the towel. Leo looks at me appreciatively before his face fills with disgust.
“I thought you were balls deep in some girl five minutes before I fucked him?” I raise an eyebrow and he frowns.
“What are you talking about?”
This doesn’t feel right. Leo may be many things, but he's not a liar regarding women. He will flaunt them and rub them in
my face until I’m sick to my stomach. So why isn’t he doing that now?
“You were fucking someone else at my party.”
“No,” he replies slowly. “I was not.” Leo walks closer to me until my toes meet his designer dress shoes. “In fact, I wanted
to fuck you.”
Leo yanks my towel and it drops to the ground. Then his hand finds my face, cupping my cheek. “No, you didn’t.”
“I did.” He’s gentle this time, none of the savagery he displayed at the party present any longer. “You should’ve known that,
though. Even if you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.” I lie, mainly to not piss him off further.
“I don’t care if you do, pretty girl.” I know he doesn’t. That’s one of our problems as a couple. Or, ew, not a couple.
“These pretty tits are still mine, and so is this pussy.”
I roll my eyes at his vulgarity. “Of course,” I mumble, not wanting to argue. “May I get dressed now?”
“Yes.” He nods, “And then meet me in the room. We need to talk.”
I take my sweet time just because I can, taking the makeup off my face and doing my skincare routine. I grab the robe from
the hook behind my door and put it on, contemplating what I will tell Annie when he leaves. I need a friend after this bullshit
night. Lucky for me, her room is right next to mine.
Living with roommates in this house has been convenient for everyone involved, and the university is at the edge of
campus. While none of us are anywhere near where our parents live, we make it work, even when our enemies make our lives
impossible. We don’t usually hang out together, no. Tonight was the exception. We definitely don’t let them stick their dicks in
us. What the fuck is wrong with me? Did turning twenty-one blow a fuse in my brain? Why would I let Nik do that after all
these years? And why did he want to? He hated me until a few days ago. Right?
I open the bathroom door to find Leo sitting on my now made-up bed with fresh linens, and he looks proud of himself, like
he did me a favor. Maybe I wanted to sleep nestled in Nik’s smell and cum. Did he think about that? No, of course not.
“Cam,” he says sweetly—he doesn’t usually call me that anymore, only my parents and friends do—patting the bed next to
him. I sigh and climb on, sitting where he wants me to. “We need to talk.”
“Listen,” I sigh, putting my hand up so he doesn’t interrupt. “If you’re here to lecture me, please don’t. If you’re jealous, I
get it. I’m sorry. I thought you were fucking someone else.” Half a truth within a lie within a half-truth.
“I’m here to talk about Nikolai.”
I blow out a breath. “Why?”
We look at each other, and he brushes my hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear in such an intimate way that my
stomach flutters a little. “You’re not going to like what I have to say.” Leo gulps, actually showing emotion.
“What? Just tell me already.”
 “He’s the one who killed Andrea.” My little brother.
My stomach drops. Even my heart does. I just had his dick inside me. The dick of the man who killed my little brother six
months ago at just eighteen years old. “How would you know that, and why didn’t you tell Papà?”
“Oh,” Leo chuckles coldly. “He knows, and Nikolai is paying for his mistake already. The Elite made sure of it, your Papà
made sure of it.”
“Cazzo.” Fuck. I think of how my brother got dropped off on this same doorstep, a hole in his belly from where he’d been
shot. Blood pooled underneath him as he was bleeding out. His last whispered words were ‘help me’, but it was too late to
save him. He died as soon as the paramedics showed up. They tried doing CPR, but even that couldn’t bring him back. “He
can’t get away with this. He should be dead!”
“Nikolai got away with a lot tonight.” Leo sneers, “You wet his cock for free, and you didn’t even ask any questions.”
“Would you rather he had paid me?” I laugh, “He was the love of my life at one point, you do realize that? I didn’t know
how to say no to him. I still don’t⁠—”
“Shut the fuck up, tesoro mio. Unless you want to be stuffed twice tonight.”
“I can’t believe you’re suggesting that while talking about my dead little brother. Have some tact.”
“You know I am who I am, and I am not going to change. So don’t hope for it.”
I’m trying to resist the urge to claw at his face, grab his balls, and twist them until he screams. He’s not making this easy for
me. “How the hell will we get back at him?”
Leo seems to think on that one, dropping the charade and taking this seriously for a moment. “He still seems to want you.”
I laugh at that. No way am I going to pursue the man who killed my brother. No matter if we used to be everything to each
other. “No.” I shake my head. “You wouldn’t even share me if you tried. You showed that years ago.”
“You underestimate me, pretty girl. I’d share you with my own brother if it got me what I wanted. I’d share you with the
whole fucking town.” I cringe at his words, feeling the truth in every single one of them. “I want us to kill him.”
“You want to kill him?” I mean, I said he deserved to be dead, but maybe I was overreacting. I shouldn’t be the one to
decide whether a life should be spared, we shouldn’t be the ones.
“He killed Andrea!”
Leo’s right. He’s right. Right? It’s justified—a life for a life. I’ve never condoned the killing they do in this lifestyle, but I
could if it meant avenging my baby brother. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” He asks, but it’s not a question.
“I’ll do it, but I need time. He’s not the kind of guy who gets his heart involved over two rounds of good pussy. And I hurt
him a lot. He still hates me, I can feel it.”
“You underestimate the power of a tight pussy then.”
“I need him to trust me. I’ll find a way to make him spill some secrets, make him vulnerable.” There has to be something
that we could use against him, and maybe we don’t have to kill him directly. Instead, the Elite can do it for us. “I bet he won’t
let me in for a while.”
Leo nods, “You’re right. He’ll be careful.”
“When I figure it out, you do what you will with that information.” I know this is a terrible idea, that he will kill him, that
I’ll feel guilty about it later. So why do I still reply? “I can’t have Andrea back, so Nikolai’s family can’t have him back
either.”
“That’s my girl.”
I smile, but it’s cold, detached. I’m doing something really bad, and it’s me. I’m the one who’s going to have to put in the
work. Maybe I really am a mafia princess, heartless. As cold as a Siberian storm.
“I think you should leave now.” I tell him softly, “I’m tired.”
“Okay,” he replies, giving me a kiss on the forehead. I close my eyes, wanting him to get off me. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
Leo walks out of the room and I close my eyes, not even bothering to remove my robe, put on clothes, or cover myself with
blankets. I’m simply exhausted, and once my eyes close, I don’t have the energy to do anything else but let sleep take me under.
The bed suddenly dips beside me, rousing me from deep sleep. “Go away, Leo. I’m trying to sleep.”
A hard, warm body cuddles me from behind, draping an arm over me and pulling me in. “Not, Leo, princess.”
I stiffen, not expecting my new enemy to be in my bed so quickly after learning the news. Choosing to play him is one thing,
I can set my own timeline for that, but him coming here unannounced? Absolutely not.
“Did you think this was more than a one-time thing?” I chuckle, forcing the sound from my throat. His fingers tighten around
my toned abdomen. “You’re here for more already? That was fast.”
“We both know that’s not true,” Nikolai says softly, and I almost believe him. “And I just wanted to make sure he didn’t kill
you.”
“Why do you care?” I try to look back at him, except he tightens his hold on me even more until I wince. God, that hurts.
“You’re Bratva, right? We’re the people you despise. Why would you check on me?”
 “I am Bratva,” I try to pry his fingers off me, “And you’re not them. I don’t care if you’re Cosa Nostra or not. I never have,
I never will.”
“And why’s that? I could have my Papà kill you in the blink of an eye.”
“But you won’t.” He says confidently, moving his lips to my ear. “You liked this cock way too much, didn’t you,
solnyshko?”
I lick my lips, feeling my arousal between my bare thighs. Why does he affect me so much? Why is my body being a traitor
and responding to him this way? I don’t want to feel like this, but goddamn. Not only is he hot, but he knows exactly what to
say too.
“It’s just one more cock.”
“But there’s not another me, Camilla.” Nikolai flips me over to face him, moving me like a damn rag doll. “And it wasn’t
just one more cock when I was fucking that tight ass earlier, right? I was the first one to do that.”
“Is that something to be proud of?” I raise my eyebrow, then realize he can’t even see it anyway.
“I’ll wear the badge of honor for fucking the Italian girl engaged to a Demoni.”
“Fuck you.” I spit, “Get out.”
“Did I hit a nerve, sweetheart?” He mocks Leo’s nickname for me. It makes me hot with rage, and I try to contain it, but my
body shakes with it either way.
“Stronzo,” I mutter under my breath, “I want you to leave.”
“Call me an asshole again,” He takes my bottom lip into his mouth, biting on it sharply. “And I’ll draw your blood and lick
it for fun.”
He always liked when I called him that. Me and my potty mouth. “I just bet you will, you sick bastard.”
Nikolai gets up from the bed, “You look like you’re in one piece, so I have nothing more to do here.”
“There was nothing for you to do here in the first place.”
He walks out using my bedroom door like he owns the house and closes it quietly behind him, leaving me in the darkness
again. Except I can’t find sleep now. I don’t know if I ever will again.
My lip is bleeding. I can taste it on my tongue, yet he didn’t lick it like he said he would. For some reason that makes me
irritated. I look at the clock and it says six in the morning. Why is he here so late? Or early? I don’t even know anymore. The
hangover that’s coming is going to be intense. All the shots I did and the coke I snorted are wearing off, and my body is
beginning to feel very sluggish. Yet I know I won’t be able to sleep now.
No.
I’m too pissed off for that.
I get out of bed in my robe, no shoes, not even a fuck to give, and open my door. The house is quiet, surely the product of
everyone’s high and drunkenness, and I walk toward Annie’s door. The house is cluttered. In fact, it’s hard to see the floor. I
wince, feeling awful that Carina has to clean all of this by herself. I’ll have to call a company for cleanup later.
The door is unlocked. For a moment, I think of last night. Are Ilya and Dmitri going to be in here with the little traitor? Or
will she be alone?
Pushing the door open, I notice there’s no one here except for her, splayed out on the bed naked. I go to the windows and
yank the curtains open, letting in the sun. Annie groans, covering her face with a pillow.
“Time to wake up.” I blow out a breath and decide to move on, willing my body temperature to go down. “Come on, Annie.
I don’t have all day.”
She groans. “What do you want?”
“What’s up with Ilya?” I smirk, but she’s not even looking at me. She still has her face under the stupid pillow, and the urge
to yank it off and throw it across the room is intense. What’s wrong with me? Oh, right. Just about everything.
“Who?” She pretends not to know with her little frown.
“Don’t play stupid. You were all cozy with him.”
“Yeah, we were cozy. He was between my legs and that was some good dick.”
“Oh, I just bet it was.” I roll my eyes, “I thought here you were still suffering over your last boyfriend.”
“Not anymore.” She throws the pillow to the floor.
“Whatever.” I huff, pacing in front of the bed as she sits up, her perky little tits bouncing in the process. “Don’t you think
being with Ilya is something I should know about?”
“Nothing is up with him, Cam. He just seemed fun to fuck, okay? There’s nothing to it. As you can tell, he’s into guys.”
“He was into you too.”
“Of course he was.” Annie grins, “I’m, well, me.”
Annie has the decency to get up and go put clothes on. It’s about damn time too. “You’re so damn annoying, you know that?”
“Yeah.” She says with a laugh and a shrug. I sit on her bed, making sure there’s no cum stains anywhere. “How about you
and Nik? You seemed to have made up, after all.”
I frown. “Nik is an asshole.”
 She laughs, “That he is. What did he do?”
“You mean after he and Leo had a dick-measuring contest in my bathroom while I was naked in the tub?” Yeah, talk about
awkward. Annie snorts at what I think is her imagining the scenario. It would be funny if it wasn’t my life. “He left me with
Leo to get killed.”
Her frown is evident in the little wrinkle forming between her brows. “He did?”
“He came to check on me later though, so I guess he felt guilty. ‘I just wanted to make sure you’re alive’ is what he said to
me.”
“Okay, he is an asshole.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” I sigh, “So much for forgiving each other.”
Annie and I get dressed, put makeup on, and head out to ballet. This is the time we spend together, and we’re supposed to
be auditioning for The Swan Lake performance in a few weeks for the lead, so I guess we will see how much our friendship
can withstand. Let’s just say it’s essential to both of us. We’ve been working on this for a long time, practicing day in and day
out for this audition, sometimes even together. Maybe that’s the problem—or I don’t know if it’s a benefit—that we know
precisely how the other dances. How the other works. I can memorize her movements and know them by heart.
We set our bags down and put on our pointe shoes, stretching and warming up at the barre before the ballet instructor shows
up. I can’t focus during practice though, which is not helpful as I need to learn the routine. Instead, all I see is a dark and
brooding man with silver eyes, and he’s haunting my days as well as my nights now.
How inconvenient.
 15 Years Old

M y belly hurts.
Every time my period shows up, my mother reminds me that I’m a woman, that I will bear Leo’s children one day.
It only makes me want to go back to the past just so I don’t have to carry this burden. Because that’s what it is. The
thought of having to be a breeding machine when I’m older makes me want to throw up. That is what’s expected of me. To have
as many kids as he wants.
I’m only fifteen; I shouldn’t have this pressure put on me yet. I shouldn’t even be having to think about this. But as I get
older, I can’t help but think about it. Now I’m miserable with my heating pad on my belly and my heart full of hate for Leo. At
least I have chocolate.
There’s a noise at the balcony door, and suddenly it creaks open. I sit up in bed quickly, my head spinning and my belly
getting a sharp cramp, and I cry out. Nikolai emerges from the shadows, closing the door behind him as a cold gust of wind
makes me shiver. It’s November in Chicago, and it’s freaking freezing. Part of the reason I didn’t go out to the park tonight.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper yell at him.
He gets closer. “I could ask you the same thing, you know. You were supposed to meet me.”
“I was feeling, well I am feeling, indisposed.”
“And I was feeling worried!”
“Lower your dang voice, Nikolai.” He straightens at his full name. “The door is unlocked.”
Nik tenses and half runs to the door, locking it. “That was an easy fix.” He walks to my bed and sits on the edge of it,
looking at me in the fetal position. His thumb brushes against my cheek, caressing it briefly. I close my eyes at the contact.
“Now tell me what’s wrong so I can make you all better.”
“I have cramps.” I blush, my face heating a thousand degrees more. “I’m on my…period.”
“Poor baby,” he whispers. “I bet you feel awful.”
“I do.” My bottom lip wobbles. I should’ve taken Motrin, but I’m stubborn when it comes to medicine.
Nik crawls behind me and gets under the covers, pressing his groin to my butt. I tense. I don’t know why I’m so afraid all of
a sudden. Maybe it’s because we’ve never done this before. It feels…intimate.
“May I?” he asks me, with his arm held mid-air.
“Yeah,” I reply, and his arm wraps around my middle. He gently massages my belly, easing some of the pain. I groan, and
he chuckles. “That feels good.”
“I’m glad, princess.”
I roll my eyes at the nickname while secretly loving it.
He continues to rub my belly, and I close my eyes. I won’t lie, this is nice. Never in a million years would I have thought
that I’d be lying in bed with Nik, much less on my period with him rubbing my belly, but I’m not complaining now.
Nik suddenly gets up and takes off his shirt then comes back down to lie behind me. He doesn’t wrap his arm around me
anymore though, and that makes me kind of sad. Instead, his lips brush against my ear, down my jaw, and to my cheek. He
kisses me softly, and my stomach hollows out.
“What else can I do to make you feel better, Camilla?” I smile at my name coming from his lips. The cute way he says it
with his Russian accent. “I’ll do anything.”
 “Can you pet me?” I imagine his frown from behind me, and I chuckle. “Pet my hair, baby.” The word slips out before I can
control myself, and he laughs lightly, a husky little sound. I sigh.
His hand comes to my head, his fingers tangling in the soft strands of my hair, and he runs his fingers through it. “You have
great hair.” His nose presses to my head, and he groans softly. “And you smell so good.”
“Like what?” I smile.
“Like honey.” I feel him smile back against my head. “And oranges.”
“You like it?”
“Love it.” My grin is about to split my face, though I don’t dare let him see it. “Can I take your pillow with me? So I can
smell it later?”
I laugh at that. “Don’t be creepy.”
“Sorry, princess.”
There’s a moment of silence where I feel his head hit the pillow beside mine, and he continues to run his fingers through my
hair. It’s like something possesses me though, and I flip over in bed to face him. He smiles at me as soon as my eyes meet his.
He’s so cute. And hot. I have to keep myself from staring at him. In fact, I have to refrain from looking down at his body now
that he’s shirtless. I refuse.
Instead, I reach out to brush the hair away from his forehead. “You’re pretty,” I tell him, and he laughs.
“I know.”
“So cocky.”
“Confident.”
“Debatable.”
My fingers trace down his forehead, the slope of his nose, his lips. I linger on the bottom one, pulling it slightly down. I
hold my breath as I look at him, and his lips tip up in a smirk, causing my thumb to slip. I let my hand down.
“You are too.” My face heats up again. I swear it’s all it does around him, and he grins at me. “You’re like a little pink ball
of bubblegum.”
“Why?”
“Always so pink.” I choke as he says that, and he laughs. How awkward. “Are you blushing, princess?”
“Maybe.”
“Cute.”
I let my eyes roam, but just as I begin to admire his abs, broad shoulders, and defined chest for a sixteen-year-old.
Suddenly, I notice the bruises. “What happened?” My eyes snap up to his. “Who did this to you?”
“Don’t waste your time worrying about me, Camilla. I can take care of myself.”
“But I do worry, so tell me.” I roll my eyes and he rolls his in return, sighing.
“I’m fine,” he replies through gritted teeth.
“Question number one hundred and sixty-six.” I raise my chin defiantly. “You know you have to answer. What. Happened.”
“I got bad grades on my report card.” He shrugs. “Father wasn’t happy.”
“Your dad did this?” But then I remember a familiar scenario with Leo, his father beating him right in front of me. It must
not be out of the norm with mafia men to do this to their children. My father has never touched me, although he hates me enough
for both of us to notice.
“He said his heir can’t be stupid.” He shrugs. “That a stupid man won’t succeed him.”
I nod slowly, carefully, then reach out and touch his cheek. “You’re not stupid.”
Nik looks into my eyes, his hand coming to my face as he leans in. Our breaths mingle, our lips brush. Mine tingle from the
contact, and my breath quickens. It’s happening, he’s kissing me.
His thumb caresses my cheek, and he closes his eyes. I lean in further, almost pressing my lips to his, and then he says. “We
should sleep, Milla.”
“Okay,” I say, pulling away with tears in my eyes. “Okay.”
 16 Years Old

I never knew what a rush felt like until now. I thought racing was a rush, but seeing Camilla in the passenger seat of my
BMW while I’m racing tops that. Maybe it has something to do with it being forbidden. We had to make sure Leo wouldn’t
be at this race, but since I wasn’t going to be at the park tonight I invited her. I didn’t think she’d do it, that she would take
such a huge risk just to spend time with me.
“This is kinda cool,” Camilla says. “I’ve never been here before.”
“I figured.” I chuckle, driving up to the line and getting ready next to the guy I’m racing. “I’ve never seen you here.”
“Do you come often?”
“Not really.” I smirk. “I spend my time with you instead.”
And it’s true. I’m at our park most days, when we agree to meet up. They don’t usually coincide with hanging out with other
people. In fact, I’m pretty sure between Camilla’s dance schedule and school, she’s either sneaking out to see me or making
something up. Probably the latter since she’s a good girl. For the most part. Sometimes she comes in her dance attire, which is
hot as fuck, so her parents probably think she’s practicing at the studio. But my little ballerina comes to see me instead, and
I’ve never been happier than when she does that. I meant what I said when I told her I wanted to be her only best friend, the
only one she needed. That we have everything we need, we are everything. She’s my everything. I just can’t say that part yet.
I’m not stupid. Whatever we have here is forbidden. That’s why I didn’t kiss her a few weeks ago. Because we probably
should not do this. In fact, I know we shouldn’t. It’s going to hurt more when it has to end. And I don’t want to hurt her.
“You don’t have to,” she replies. “You can spend time with other people.”
“I don’t want to spend time with other people.”
“Oh.” I look at her to find her cheeks my favorite shade of bubblegum pink. Another thing I can’t get over.
My eyes rake over her. In the past few months she’s gained a little more of a figure. Fuller breasts, wider hips, more mature
face. She still has a dancer’s body though. Lean arms and legs, except you can see the muscle definition regardless. Her tiny
little waist is my favorite though, and I can see her abs peeking through every time she wears a crop top. Which is often. I have
to force myself not to look at her body, to keep myself in check. It’s getting harder to do by the day.
She nervously brushes some hair out of her face, and I love that I affect her. I can tell. I try not to look at her as her crop top
rides up, revealing a pink bra. So I look out the window instead and adjust myself in my seat. God, why is this my life? Why do
I have to like someone I can’t have? Like is a tame description of what we have. I think—no, I know—I’m falling for her.
“How fast are we going to go?” Camilla asks nervously.
“Fast, Milla.”
“I might throw up,” she replies, and I grimace. “I’m not a fan of…speed.”
“Please don’t throw up in this beauty.”
She laughs at that, a beautiful melody. “You’re right that it’s beautiful. Maybe I’ll just close my eyes.”
“Don’t be a little girl.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Fine, kid.”
She scoffs. “You’re one year older than me.”
How cute! She really thinks it matters to me. I’m just messing with her as I always do. Because I enjoy it. Because it brings
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 Can you not see that these would have been too frail to work their
way uninjured through the earth?
But by crooking its stout stem the plant opened quite easily a path
for itself and for its leaves, and no harm was done anywhere (Figs.
106, 107). Was not this a clever thought? But really every step in the
life of the plant is full of interest, if we watch it with sharp eyes and a
brain in good order.
 Part III—Roots and Stems

ROOT HAIRS

C AREFULLY pull up one of your bean plants and look at its root
(Fig. 108).
You see that the root grows downward from the lower part of the
stem.

Fig. 108

This bean root looks not unlike a bunch of dirty threads, some
quite thick, others very thin. If you look at these thread-like roots in a
good light, perhaps you may be able to see growing from them a
quantity of tiny hairs.
Now, what is the use of such a root as this?
 Surely some of you are able to guess at the object of this root, and
I will help the others to the answer.
Give a firm though gentle tug to one of the larger plants,—one of
those that are growing in the pot of earth.
Does it come out easily in your fingers?
Not at all. Unless you have been really rough, and used quite a
good deal of strength, the little plant has kept its hold.
What holds it down, do you suppose?
Ah! Now you know what I am trying to get at. Its root is what holds
it in place; and this holding of the plant in place is one of its uses.
Its thread-like branches are so many fingers that are laying hold of
the earth. Each little thread makes it just so much the more difficult
to uproot the plant.
I think you know already that another use of the root is to obtain
nourishment for the plant.
These thread-like roots, you notice, creep out on every side in
their search for food and drink. The water they are able to suck in
easily by means of tiny mouths, which we cannot see. But the plant
needs a certain amount of earth food, which in its solid state could
not slip down these root throats any more easily than a young baby
could swallow a lump of sugar.
Now, how is the plant to get this food, which it needs if it is to grow
big and hearty?
Suppose the doctor should tell your mother that a lump of sugar
was necessary to the health of your tiny baby brother, what would
she do about it?
Would she put the great lump into the baby’s mouth?
You laugh at the very idea. Such a performance might choke the
baby to death, you know quite well.
Perhaps you think she would break the lump into small pieces,
and try to make the baby swallow these; but even these small pieces
might prove very dangerous to the little throat that had never held a
solid morsel.
“She would melt the sugar in water, then the baby could swallow
it,” one of you exclaims.
That is exactly what she would do. She would melt, or dissolve as
we say, this sugar in water. Then there would be no difficulty in its
slipping down the little throat; for you know when anything is
thoroughly melted or dissolved, it breaks up into such tiny pieces that
the eye cannot see them. When you melt a lump of sugar in a glass
of water, the sugar is all there as much as it ever was, although its
little grains no longer cling together in one big lump.
And so when the plant needs some food that the little root hairs
are not able to swallow, it does just what the mother does. It melts or
dissolves the solid food so that this is able to slip quite easily down
the root throats.
But how does it manage this?
No wonder you ask. A root cannot fill a glass with water, as your
mother did. Even if it could, much of this solid food which is needed
by the plant would not melt in water, or in anything but certain acids;
for you know that not everything will dissolve, like sugar, in water.
If I place a copper cent in a glass of water, it will remain a copper
cent, will it not? But if I go into a drug shop and buy a certain acid,
and place in this the copper cent, it will dissolve almost immediately;
that is, it will break up into so many tiny pieces that you will no longer
see anything that looks at all like a cent.
And as much of this earth food, like the copper cent, can only be
dissolved in certain acids, how is the plant to obtain them? Certainly
it is not able to go to the drug shop for the purpose, any more than it
was able to fill a glass with water.
Fortunately it does not need to do either of these things.
If you will look closely at the root of a plant that has been raised in
water, you will see that it is rough with a quantity of tiny hairs. These
little hairs hold the acid which can dissolve the solid earth food.
When they touch this food, they send out some of the acid, and in
this it is soon dissolved. Then the little mouths suck it in, and it is
carried up through the root into the rest of the plant.
Would you have guessed that plants were able to prepare their
food in any such wonderful way as this? It surprised me very much, I
remember, to learn that a root could give out acids, and so dissolve
the earth food it needed.
 ROOTS AND UNDERGROUND STEMS

I N the last chapter you learned that the root of the bean plant has
two uses.
It holds the plant in place, and it provides it with food and drink.
Such a root as this of the bean plant—one that is made up of what
looks like a bunch of threads—is called a “fibrous” root.
The next picture shows you the root of a beet plant (Fig. 109).
Such a thick, fat root as this of the beet is called a “fleshy” root.
The carrot, turnip, radish, and sweet potato, all have fleshy roots.
This beet root, like that of the bean, is useful both in holding the
plant in place and in providing it with food and drink.
But the fleshy root of the beet does something else,—something
that is not attempted by the fibrous root of the bean.
Here we must stop for a moment and look into the life of the beet
plant.
During its first year, the beet puts out leaves; it neither flowers nor
fruits, but it eats and drinks a great deal. And as it does not use up
any of this food in flowering or fruiting, it is able to lay by much of it in
its root, which grows large and heavy in consequence. When the
next spring comes on, the beet plant is not obliged, like so many of
its brothers and sisters, to set out to earn its living. This is provided
already. And so it bursts into flower without delay, its food lying close
at hand in its great root.
 Fig. 109

So you see that a fleshy root, like that of the beet, does three
things:—
1. It holds the plant in place.
2. It provides it with food and drink.
3. It acts as a storehouse.
These plants that lay by food for another year are useful as food
for man. Their well-stocked roots are taken out of the ground and
eaten by us before the plant has had the chance to use up its food in
fulfilling its object in life, that of fruiting. Of course, when it is not
allowed to live long enough to flower and fruit, it brings forth no
young plants. So a habit which at first was of use to the plant
becomes the cause of its destruction.
Perhaps you think that the white potato (Fig. 110) is a plant with a
fleshy root.
 Fig. 110

If so, you will be surprised to learn that this potato is not a root at
all, but a stem.
You think it looks quite unlike any other stem that you have ever
seen. Probably you do not know that many stems grow underneath
the ground, instead of straight up in the air.

Fig. 111

Fig. 112

If you find something in the earth that you take to be a root, you
can feel pretty sure that it really is a stem, if it bears anything like
either buds or leaves. A true root bears only root branches and root
hairs. But in this white potato we find what we call “eyes.” These
eyes are buds from which new potato plants will grow. Close to these
are little scales which really are leaves. So we know that the potato
is a stem, not a root. But this you could not have found out for
yourselves, even with the sharpest of eyes.
 Fig. 111 shows you the thick, fat, underground stem of the
cyclamen. From its lower part grow the true roots.
Next you have that of the crocus (Fig. 112), while here to the right
is that of the wood lily (Fig. 113). This is covered with underground
leaves.

Fig. 113

All these stems are usually called roots. In the botanies such an
underground stem as that of the Jack-in-the-pulpit (Fig. 114) is
named a “corm,” while one like that of the crocus is called a “bulb”
(Fig. 112). All have a somewhat rounded shape.

Fig. 114

Fig. 115

During our walks in the woods last fall, often we found the
Solomon’s seal, and stopped to admire its curved stem, hung with
blue berries. I hope one of you boys whipped out your pocketknife
and dug into the earth till you found its underground stem (Fig. 115).
This was laid lengthwise, its roots growing from its lower side. From
its upper side, close to one end, sprang the growing plant. But what
causes those round, curious-looking scars?
These scars are what give the plant its name of “Solomon’s seal.”
They are supposed to look like the mark left by a seal upon wax.
They show where the underground stem has budded in past
years, sending up plants which in turn withered away. Each plant has
left a scar which shows one year in the life of the underground stem.
Next spring when you find in the woods the little yellow bells of the
Solomon’s seal, I think you will have the curiosity to dig down and
find out the age of some of these plants.
Another plant with an underground stem is the beautiful bloodroot.
As its name tells you, this so-called root contains a juice that looks
something like blood. Such underground stems as those of the
Solomon’s seal and bloodroot are called “rootstocks.” Rootstocks,
corms, and bulbs are all storehouses of plant food, and make
possible an early flowering the following spring.
 ABOVE-GROUND ROOTS

B UT before we finished talking about roots we were led away by

underground stems. This does not matter much, however, for
these underground stems are still called roots by many people.
Just as stems sometimes grow under ground, roots sometimes
grow above ground.
Many of you know the English ivy. This is one of the few plants
which city children know quite as well as, if not better than, country
children; for in our cities it nearly covers the walls of the churches. In
England it grows so luxuriantly that some of the old buildings are
hidden beneath masses of its dark leaves.
This ivy plant springs from a root in the earth; but as it makes its
way upward, it clings to the stone wall by means of the many air
roots which it puts forth (Fig. 116).
Our own poison ivy is another plant with air roots used for climbing
purposes. Often these roots make its stem look as though it were
covered with a heavy growth of coarse hair.

Fig. 116

There are some plants which take root in the branches of trees.
Many members of the Orchid family perch themselves aloft in this
fashion. But the roots which provide these plants with the greater
part of their nourishment are those which hang loosely in the air. One
of these orchids you see in the picture (Fig. 117). It is found in warm
countries. The orchids of our part of the world grow in the ground in
everyday fashion, and look much like other plants.

Fig. 117

These hanging roots which you see in the picture are covered with
a sponge-like material, by means of which they suck in from the air
water and gases.
In summer, while hunting berries or wild flowers by the stream that
runs through the pasture, you have noticed that certain plants
seemed to be caught in a tangle of golden threads. If you stopped to
look at this tangle, you found little clusters of white flowers scattered
along the thread-like stems (Fig. 118); then, to your surprise, you
discovered that nowhere was this odd-looking stem fastened to the
ground.
It began and ended high above the earth, among the plants which
crowded along the brook’s edge.
 Fig. 118

Perhaps you broke off one of these plants about which the golden
threads were twining. If so, you found that these threads were
fastened firmly to the plant by means of little roots which grew into its
stem, just as ordinary roots grow into the earth.
This strange plant is called the “dodder.” When it was still a baby
plant, it lay within its seed upon the ground, just like other baby
plants; and when it burst its seed shell, like other plants it sent its
roots down into the earth.
But unlike any other plant I know of, it did not send up into the air
any seed leaves. The dodder never bears a leaf.
It sent upward a slender golden stem. Soon the stem began to
sweep slowly through the air in circles, as if searching for something.
Its movements were like those of a blind man who is feeling with his
hands for support. And this is just what the plant was doing: it was
feeling for support. And it kept up its slow motion till it found the plant
which was fitted to give it what it needed.
Having made this discovery, it put out a little root. This root it sent
into the juicy stem of its new-found support. And thereafter, from its
private store, the unfortunate plant which had been chosen as the
dodder’s victim was obliged to give food and drink to its greedy
visitor.
 And now what does this dodder do, do you suppose? Perhaps you
think that at least it has the grace to do a little something for a living,
and that it makes its earth root supply it with part of its food.
Nothing of the sort. Once it finds itself firmly rooted in the stem of
its victim, it begins to grow vigorously. With every few inches of its
growth it sends new roots deep into this stem. And when it feels
quite at home, and perfectly sure of its board, it begins to wither
away below, where it is joined to its earth root. Soon it breaks off
entirely from this, and draws every bit of its nourishment from the
plant or plants in which it is rooted.
Now stop a moment and think of the almost wicked intelligence
this plant has seemed to show,—how it keeps its hold of the earth till
its stem has found the plant which will be compelled to feed it, and
how it gives up all pretense of self-support, once it has captured its
prey.
You have heard of men and women who do this sort of thing,—
who shirk all trouble, and try to live on the work of others; and I fear
you know some boys and girls who are not altogether unlike the
dodder,—boys and girls who never take any pains if they can
possibly help it, who try to have all of the fun and none of the work;
but did you ever suppose you would come across a plant that would
conduct itself in such a fashion?
Of course, when the dodder happens to fasten itself upon some
wild plant, little harm is done. But unfortunately it is very partial to
plants that are useful to men, and then we must look upon it as an
enemy.
Linen is made from the flax plant, and this flax plant is one of the
favorite victims of the dodder. Sometimes it will attack and starve to
death whole fields of flax.
But do not let us forget that we happen to be talking about the
dodder because it is one of the plants which put out roots above
ground.
 Fig. 119

There is one plant which many of you have seen, that never, at
any time of its life, is rooted in the earth, but which feeds always
upon the branches of the trees in which it lives.
This plant (Fig. 119) is one of which perhaps you hear and see a
good deal at Christmas time. It is an old English custom, at this
season, to hang somewhere about the house a mistletoe bough (for
the mistletoe is the plant I mean) with the understanding that one is
free to steal a kiss from any maiden caught beneath it. And as
mistletoe boughs are sold on our street corners and in our shops at
Christmas, there has been no difficulty in bringing one to school to-
day.
The greenish mistletoe berries are eaten by birds. Often their
seeds are dropped by these birds upon the branches of trees. There
they hold fast by means of the sticky material with which they are
covered. Soon they send out roots which pierce the bark, and, like
the roots of the dodder, suck up the juices of the tree, and supply the
plant with nourishment.
Then there are water roots as well as earth roots. Some of these
water roots are put forth by plants which are nowhere attached to the
earth. These are plants which you would not be likely to know about.
One of them, the duckweed, is very common in ponds; but it is so
tiny that when you have seen a quantity of these duckweeds,
perhaps you have never supposed them to be true plants, but rather
a green scum floating on the top of the water.
But the duckweed is truly a plant. It has both flower and fruit,
although without a distinct stem and leaves; and it sends down into
the water its long, hanging roots, which yet do not reach the ground.
There are other plants which have at the same time underground
roots and water roots.
Rooted in the earth on the borders of a stream sometimes you see
a willow tree which has put out above-ground roots. These hang
over the bank and float in the water, apparently with great
enjoyment; for roots not only seem to seek the water, but to like it,
and to flourish in it.
If you break off at the ground one of your bean plants, and place
the slip in a glass of water, you will see for yourselves how readily it
sends out new roots.
I have read of a village tree the roots of which had made their way
into a water pipe. Here they grew so abundantly that soon the pipe
was entirely choked. This rapid, luxuriant growth was supposed to
have been caused by the water within the pipe.
So you see there are underground roots and above-ground roots
and water roots. Usually, as you know, the underground roots get
their food from the earth; but sometimes, as with the Indian pipe,
they feed on dead plants, and sometimes, as with the yellow false
foxglove, on other living roots.
 WHAT FEW CHILDREN KNOW

T O-DAY we must take another look at the plants in the

schoolroom garden.
By this time some of them have grown quite tall. Others are just
appearing above the earth.
Here is a young morning-glory (Fig. 120). We see that its stem,
like that of the bean, was the first thing to come out of the seed. This
stem has turned downward into the earth. From its lower end grows
the root, which buries itself deeper and deeper.
An older plant shows us that the upper part of the stem straightens
itself out and grows upward, bearing with it a pair of leaves (Fig.
121).

Fig. 120

From between these starts a tiny bud, that soon unfolds into a
fresh leaf, which is carried upward by a new piece of stem.
On the tip of this new piece of stem grows another bud, which also
enlarges into a leaf, and in the same way as before is borne upward
(Fig. 122).
 Fig. 121

In this fashion the plant keeps growing bigger and bigger. Soon
branches start from the sides of the stem, and later flowers and
fruits.
So we see that it is the stem which bears all the other parts of the
plant.
Most people think that the plant springs from the root; but you
children know better. With your own eyes, here in the schoolroom,
you have seen that instead of the stem growing from the root, the
root grows from the stem.

Fig. 122

That more people have not found this out, is because they do not
use their eyes rightly.
Every spring hundreds and thousands of baby plants make their
way out of the seed shell into the world, just as you saw the baby
bean plant do, sending out first its little stem, which pointed
downward into the earth and started a root. And every spring there
are hundreds of thousands of men and women, and boys and girls,
who go through the woods and fields, and across the parks and
along the streets, as though they were blind, taking no notice of the
wonders all about them.
 PLANTS THAT CANNOT STAND ALONE

A LREADY we have learned that some stems grow under ground,

and that by most people these are called roots.
And among those which grow above the ground we see many
different kinds.
The stem of Indian corn grows straight up in the air, and needs no
help in standing erect.
Fig. 123 shows you the morning-glory plant, the stem of which is
unable to hold itself upright without assistance. A great many plants
seem to need this same sort of help; and it is very interesting to
watch their behavior.