𝑅𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑃ℎ𝑜𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑥 ✔︎ || 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑

16

~ ilya ~

When my father died, he left many things behind.

On the face of our organisation, we owned hotels, casinos and restaurants. That was the side of the business that I oversaw. At eighteen, he entrusted me to maintain our reputation as a wealthy family company. It was up to me to make connections around the world and keep the facade up. I rarely ever got involved with the other side of the business.

The drug cartel and weapons trade, that was Vik's responsibility until the fucking Italians killed him. When I slaughtered the Genovese dynasty to avenge my brother, I didn't feel the satisfaction I was hoping for. Rather, the crushing realisation that everything would fall upon my shoulders became clearer. I didn't just lose my mentor, I lost freedom.

It turned out my father was dying of lung cancer. I guess the damn bastard had it coming after the dozens of cigars he smoked daily. And on his deathbed, he revealed something I'd always hate him for deep down in my bitter black heart.

I was betrothed. To the heiress of the Polish Mafia.

They wanted an alliance, security against the troublemaking Italians. So what better than a кровный союз. A fucking blood pact. Unbreakable, unchangeable, forever.

Who knew my fiancée would be the chaotic little сука I planned to kill?

"You had her all this time, locked up like scum because you thought she was a spy?" Franciszek Stilinski growled incredulously.

I swallowed my frustrated shout and instead grunted a yes. How was I supposed to know she was the granddaughter of our biggest ally?

"Cholera," the old man muttered in Polish. [Fucking hell]

There was a long excruciating moment of awkward silence. I did not know how to treat the man who'd soon be my relative. And he found it harder to trust me. I guess we were both unhappy with the foolishness of our fathers.

In that silent minute, reality seemed to cave in. Fire became ash in my veins. A cold sweat began to form on my forehead. I was engaged. Ever since my father died, I knew it was coming. He said I'd have to wait until the girl turned eighteen since I was five years older than her.

But even before that, I never thought about women seriously, let alone marriage. I'd lost my virginity long before I could remember with a whore Vik thrust into my lap. 'Grow up,' he'd said to me. Since then, women became just stress relievers and there was not a single female who knew me inside out. Mama died a year after I was born. After that, I was raised by the Mafia, by uncles who took care of me. I didn't know a single thing about женщины [women].

I planned to make my betrothed a trophy wife. Something I could tame and control. Unfortunately, that fell out the window when I realised it was Phoenix.

I was snatched out of my thoughts by the slam of a door.

Looking up, I was met by the hollow gaze of my soon to be wife. Phoenix raked her eyes over me, those sapphire irises empty, like she was ingraining my face into memory. Then, she glanced away. Her face was pale and those cherry lips, downturned.

I felt a weird sensation tightening my chest. She clearly hadn't known about the engagement until now and she didn't want it. She didn't want me.

Swallowing my surprise, I stood and walked to the large window, turning my back to the Stilinskis.

"Lyra," Franciszek began, bitter regret evident in his voice, "I wish I could change it but..."

Phoenix- Lyra cleared her throat as if there was a painful lump blocking her voice and said, "I know, Dza."

Why did she sound so emotionless... accusing?

I spun around, fixing a warning glare on her trembling small frame. "Listen, сука, I don't want this either. Don't play victim."

That seemed to ignite something feral within her. I watched her eyes spark with fury.

"Am I not the victim, Ilya?" she demanded, emotion flooding into her voice. "At least, you knew. I didn't. You had time to prepare. You had nothing to lose. I-I'm going to lose everything. My scholarship, my friends, everything. So don't you dare expect anything more than hate from me."

With her scathing words still echoing in the room, she turned and stomped away. I heard the front door slam.

The Stilinskis looked dumbfounded, speechless. Their was a painful guilt marring their expressions.

Frustrated, I followed the damn girl out. If she thought I'd tolerate her infuriating cheek, she had another thing coming.

Stepping off the front porch, I saw one of my men bent over, clutching his groin, agony painted on his face. I looked around. My Lamborghini was missing. No fucking way.

"Where the hell did she go?" I growled at the nearest man.

"S-she's heading towards the town square, сэр," he answered, looking pale. [sir] "She said she was your w-wife."

I gritted my teeth. Wouldn't he, my own man, have known if I was married?  "Pass me your keys," I barked.

Snatching the keys for the black Range, I speedily pulled out. She couldn't have gone far.

When I drove onto the main road outside the Stilinski estate, I found my black sportscar shooting forwards. I winced as I saw her almost collide with another car. That сука! Slamming my foot down, I zoomed after my stolen car and the thief. Ahead of her, the traffic lights displayed amber, then a bright crimson. Perfect.

Pulling up beside her, I yelled through the open window, "Get out of my damn car."

Phoenix rolled her eyes and looked away.

"I said, get out of my car! Or else-"

Her face whirled back to mine. "Or what," she mocked, "you'll marry me? Well, it's too late for that, isn't it?"

In my peripheral vision, I saw the traffic lights changing. Fury began to tinge my mind blood red.

"Phoenix, I'm warning you, stop."

To my surprise, she did. The smartass сука turned off the ignition and climbed out, leaving my Lamborghini stranded in the middle of the busy road. I watched in incredulous shock as she dodged cars and plopped that perky ass down on the curb, crossing her arms against her chest.

Loud beeps of protest filled the air. I was still watching the black-haired girl in astonishment.

Did she just—

𝑥𝑜
𝖗𝖔𝖘𝖆𝖛𝖎