Contestant: A Mafia Reverse Harem Prologue by Lilith Vincent

Author:Lilith Vincent
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

LILIA IS DISCHARGED from the hospital a day later, and I buy a new shirt.

When she opens the door, I smile in greeting. Nothing’s wrong. I’m not going to remind her of the worst day of her life. I never held her. I didn’t see her husband hit her. I pretend not to notice that she’s pale, her cheeks are thin, and her eyes are haunted. “Dobroe utro, Lilia.”

“Good morning, Elyah.” Her hand slides down the door and she turns away.

I follow her into the kitchen and take my usual spot at the counter. I’ve already heard from Dima and Vasily what happened with Ivan at the police station. They arrested him for money laundering, but his lawyer found a problem with the warrant and he was let go on a technicality. I doubt they’ll find any evidence on any of Ivan’s devices. He’s far too clever to leave anything incriminating on hard drives and phones that the police can find.

Lilia puts a mug of coffee in front of me. “You look different today. Is that a new shirt?”

I glance down at the soft, patterned shirt in shades of cream, gray, and sea green. It hugs my shoulders and biceps. The shop assistant couldn’t stop touching me when I was trying it on. “I was on Vine Street yesterday, where the little shops are.”

“Little, but expensive,” she agrees with a smile.

I puff my cheeks out and widen my eyes. “I was not prepared. The shop assistant would not let me leave until I had bought this. I could rent an apartment in my town in Russia for the cost of this shirt.”

Her gaze roams over me. “It suits you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything but black.”

Her hand is on the counter, and I reach out and cover it with my own. The last time I touched her, she was sobbing her heart out on my chest. Our gazes meet, and I can tell she’s remembering that moment. Her eyes fill with tears, and I know.

I fucking know.

He’s not letting her grieve the baby. She has to pretend everything’s fine and nothing happened. Just like I do after seeing him hit her.

“I am sorry, Lilia,” I whisper.

She pulls her hand from mine like I’ve given her an electric shock.

While her back is to me, I slop coffee down my front.

“Oh, clumsy,” I tut, pulling my wet shirt away from my chest.

Lilia turns back and sees what I’ve done. “Oh, no! Go and rinse it off quickly in the laundry room under cold water.”

I put my mug down and do what she says. The laundry is just a short distance from the kitchen, a narrow, windowless room with a washer and dryer. I pull my shirt off, throw it in the sink and scatter it with a handful of detergent powder. Then I wait, counting slowly. When I reach forty-five, Lilia calls my name and I hear her footsteps coming toward the utility room.

She comes in and sees me standing shirtless with my hands braced against the counter and glowering into the sink.

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