Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Don’t do or say anything to upset Boris, so you can get your two hours with Simi before dinner.
It fills me with rage and heartache that Tanya is the one raising my daughter.
Just the thought of that vile woman makes my jaw tighten.
I know exactly why Tanya was chosen to care for Simi. She’s my father’s side piece, and she’d do anything he tells her.
Boris finally lifts his dead, soulless eyes. “Nina.”
The sound of his voice sends a familiar chill down my spine, the same cold feeling I have carried since childhood, since the first time I realized the man who should protect me is the one person in this world who has repeatedly broken me.
I keep my tone soft as I say, “You wanted to see me.”
It is the safest response, neutral enough that he cannot accuse me of disrespect, though I can feel tension coiling through my chest while I wait for whatever order he plans to deliver.
Boris leans back slightly in his chair and studies me with the same calculating look he always has when discussing shipments, deals, or rivals.
“You will go to a bar tomorrow night.”
The statement settles heavily between us, and suffocating dread begins to creep through my veins because I already understand what the order means.
Whenever he sends me somewhere, it always ends the same way. I’ll have to distract a man so the guards can overwhelm him. He’ll be brought to the basement, where he’ll be tortured. I’ll be forced to tend to his wounds until Boris has all the information he wants, then the man will be killed.
Many have begged me to help them. Most have slung curses and threats at me.
The shouts. The rage. The desperation. The sobbing.
I hear them all in my nightmares.
“You will approach a man named Georgi Torrisi,” Boris orders, drawing me out of my thoughts that are always dark.
Georgi Torrisi. The name doesn’t sound Bulgarian. Maybe Italian?
My father takes a slow drink from his whiskey before continuing, “He is Sicilian. One of the capos of the Cosa Nostra.”
My stomach tightens.
Cut off from the outside world and living inside this nightmare, even I’m aware of the Cosa Nostra. Boris has avoided them, so I find it weird that his focus has shifted.
“Torrisi is meeting with Atanas Perkov.”
Jesus. The head of the Bulgarian mafia.
The one enemy Boris has never been able to overthrow.
Knowing I have to somehow seduce a capo makes fear shudder through me. If I’m successful, it will incur the wrath of the most feared man in Bulgaria.
The man whose shadow sits over every criminal operation in this country while Boris Pavlov circles endlessly, desperate to claw his way into a seat of power he has never been able to claim.
“It should be easy for you to seduce Torrisi. He’s a known playboy and can’t resist a pretty face.”
I lower my gaze toward the polished surface of the desk, watching the reflection of the office lights shimmer across the wood while the familiar sense of helplessness settles into my bones.
I have no choice but to do as I’m ordered. If I resist, Simi will be hurt.
Boris lights a cigar, and a thick cloud of smoke curls toward the ceiling.
“You will gain his attention,” he continues, his tone impatient. “You will encourage him to follow you out of the bar, which is in the hotel he’s staying in. Lead him to the side of the building.”
Where the men will be waiting, ready to ambush the capo.
My father never keeps prisoners breathing unless he plans to tear answers out of them piece by piece, and a familiar heaviness settles in my chest because I already know how this will unfold. They will beat him, and it will be my job to keep him breathing so they can torture him day in and day out.
Patch them up. Stop the bleeding. Force water and food down their throats while they choke on pain. Clean wounds and close gashes because no doctor ever comes to this house.
After years of practice, I’ve become good at first aid. Good enough to keep men alive through things that should have killed them.
Besides being payment for Anton Belinsky, this has always been my role. I have to play nurse to men who will die anyway.
If anything about this insane plan goes wrong, the consequences will be catastrophic, and yet my father sits there calmly, confident that I will obey like I always do.
My father does not need to threaten me out loud.
He never does.
The unspoken threat is always there, like an invisible blade to my throat.
If I refuse…if I fail…if I do anything except exactly what he wants, the person who suffers will not be me.
It will be my sweet baby daughter who’s already seen too much violence in her short four years.
Boris watches me for a moment longer, then barks, “You will not disappoint me, Nina.”