𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 ✔️

♡ Chapter 3 ♡

I took the next few days off work.

I listened to music, painted, and even bought a few new plants for my room. 

My moms voice echos up the stairs, calling me down for breakfast. My blonde hair was messy from laying in my bed for days, so I threw on a large hoodie to make me look even more homeless.

A smile spread on my face seeing the pancakes and french toast on the table. I love breakfast. 

"Hey Azzy," my mom smiles at me. "Feeling better?"

I nod and take a seat, "Yea, actually. I think I'm ready to go back to work today."

As if summoned by the word work, my father enters the dining room with a cup of coffee in hand and sits across from me. He shakes his head, "No work today. There's a party tonight we're all going to go to."

"Party?" I raise my eyebrows while biting into my food.

"Mhm," he hums, speaking into his mug as he sips on it. "It's really for business, but I'd like my two girls to accompany me."

I hadn't been to one of my father's parties in a while. But knowing that Max would be there made me smile. 

"Okay," I nod. "I'll go. And so will mama."

My mom sighs and rubs her temples, "My show is on tonight. You're lucky I love you guys."

Dad and I laughed. I continued eating my breakfast, while thinking of an outfit to wear in my head.

I've had a crush on Max for years. But I only get to see him at events. He's the son of my father's friend, and even though my dad doesn't know it, Max has been my first everything. First kiss. First time having sex with. First crush, even. But he never talks to me, unless we're at one of these events. He says we can't be anything more, but then whenever I see him, he says maybe we can. 

It's confusing. 

"I have to stop by and try and get some answers from Reese Ricci before the party, but I'll be back in time," my father says while finishing his coffee.

Hearing he's going to see him, when I know he has part of the plate in his boot made me worried for my dad. 

"Keep your distance from him, Dad. He sounds dangerous," I say while poking at my pancakes.

My dad sighs, and runs a hand through his black hair with some grey strands.

"He is," he nods. "He has more blood on his hands than anybody else in New York. He hurts and kills innocents, so be careful when you deliver him food, Azalea. If only he spoke English, this process would speed things up."

His words made me freeze. The fork that was about to go into my mouth, I slowly lowered.

I repeated his words in a confused tone, "If only he spoke English?"

"Yea," he nods. "He's Russian. Clearly doesn't speak any English. With how we've tortured him and threatened him, nobody has the mental strength to not give in and talk. So, he must only know Russian."

My eyes lowered to my plate as I thought.

My dad stands and clears his throat, "Okay, I'll see you girls later. Be ready at 9."

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

My white silk dress clung to my body tightly. With heels the same shade, and the hair clip that held half of my hair back.

I had entered with my parents, but wandered off to the fruit table to eat some cherries.

As I ate them, I looked around the busy room. The floors were beige marble, with white walls and people playing harps and violins live for music.