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“And why are you wearing all black? Did someone die?” A few of my brain cells, for sure.
“It means that if anyone, Mom included, suspects I’m not crazy in love with that son of a bitch, we’re dead.”
“Yeah. That sucks. At least you can buy a wife.” I shrug. “For three million you could have gotten a whole harem, not just one.”
Someone hurt her, and for her to react this way, it must have been really bad.
“You hit his head with a laptop.” “Twice. Broke his nose with the second blow and ran away.”
“Igor speaks only Russian. How can he teach her anything?” “I have no idea. He tells her what to do, and when she does it wrong, he yells.”
“Who the fuck is Mark?” I jump and spin around to find Roman glaring down at me. “Why do you call him babe?” he demands. “And what kind of photo are you sending him?” I blink at him and take a bite of my apple. “My pimp. All of us girls call him babe. And I’m sending a photo of my boobs.”
The head of the Russian criminal syndicate. A drug dealer. A killer. And I managed to fall in love with him. Someone please just lock me up in a mental institution, because that’s apparently where I belong.
“I feel like someone chewed me up and spit me out,” she mumbles. “I’m sorry, baby, but I don’t think I can handle the dinner.”
“Where is my wife?” I sneer through clenched teeth, trying my best to keep myself from breaking his neck.
“If there’s a single strand of her hair harmed, there will be a lot of dead people,”
“No one will be teaching you Russian, but me. Got that?” “Got it, kotik.” I close my eyes and shake my head. “You do not call a Russian pakhan ‘kitten’, Nina. I have an image to uphold here.”
She took my black heart with her the day she left, and if she says no, she can keep it. I’m ruined for anyone else anyway.
