Letters To The Mafia Don

XV

I groaned as I started to feel consciousness fill my body, short breaths were leaving my chest as I lay on the soft mattress on my stomach. Wait, soft? I open my eyes and look out of the sides of my eyes to see if I could recognise anything. This wasn't my bedroom, this room was double the size of my dingy, old flat. I nuzzle my head into the pillow and welcome the delicious smell of male cologne. I sigh and squint into the pillow as I try to think about what happened last night.

You killed someone Julian!

I sit up and push myself away from the bed, holding my hand against my head trying to calm down the pounding that was banging in my head.

I never asked you to kill someone!

A small sob escaped my lips as the events of last night flashed through my mind and the pounding increased only making it worse.

You're not allowed to leave until I know you will keep your mouth shut.

He didn't have to yell to be intimidating, he could whisper and birds would still fly away from their trees in fear of the low growl that would erupt from deep into his chest.

I hate you.

I don't doubt that, mio amore.

Julian had kidnapped me. He wouldn't let me call the police and he won't let me leave. I am trapped in an unknown destination and I have no idea what is going to happen to me. He had threatened to put me in the same position as he put that man in. A man that was going to take me to a Sex Ring and sell me until I finally spoke about how I knew Julian King. Why didn't I tell him how I knew him? I don't owe Julian anything, so why did I feel the need to protect him when this man clearly knew that I was acquainted with Julian?

My breathing grew faster as I started to hear footsteps and the sound of the door unlocking. "Good morning, Charlotte. I hope you are feeling better today." Julian chirped as he entered the room with a glass of orange juice and a packet of paracetamol.

"Not really." I whisper.

"Hm, very well then." He set the glass and the box on the bedside table and my hand itched to grab them but when he sat down on the seat next to it, I decided that the itch wasn't worth scratching.

"Who was that man, Julian?" I ask, my voice shaking with terror as I realised that this man could end my life with a click of his fingers.

"Alexi Artyomov. A Russian gangster, he is the Underboss of Dimitri Alexeev." He clarifies.

"Who's he?"

"Charlotte, it doesn't involve you." I abruptly stood from the bed, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through my back completely forgetting about the stitches.

"To hell 'it doesn't involve me'! Alexi had me against a wall threatening to sell me into a Sex Ring because I wouldn't tell him how I know you, of course it involves me!"

"What do you mean?" He asked, clearly talking about when I spoke about how I didn't tell Alexi how I knew him.

"He continuously asked me how I knew you but I wouldn't tell him how I was acquainted with you. God knows why I didn't tell him, I don't owe you anything." I scoff.

"You're right, you don't owe me anything. Thank you for not telling him, I appreciate it."

"You're welcome I guess." I paused. "He called me your шлюха. It's Russian for whore."

"You speak Russian?" He asked in surprise.

"I'm half Russian, my father taught me when I was a child and when he left I continued speaking it even though he had left me all alone. My name is actually Charlotte Lebedev or Charlotte Лебедев, but that's a bit of a mouthful and when he left I took my mother's last name which was Cole." I explained.