The Heir: (A Dark Mafia Romance) Bratva Blood by SR Jones

Author:SR Jones [Jones, SR]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-10-21T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Zoey

I sleep like shit, tossing and turning, but I do manage to drop off a few times. Each time I sleep, I wish I hadn’t as I do nothing but have nightmares about Esme. Horrific, terrible dreams have me waking, gasping, and soaking in sweat. By the fourth one, I’ve had enough, and I keep myself awake plotting all the ways I’m going to make those bastards, especially Number Two, pay for everything they've done.

Vasily is asleep next door. It seems he might want to fuck me, but he’s not at the cuddling up together at night stage. I’m relieved because I’m a mental and emotional wreck, and he’d witness that, but if I want to get him on my side, I need some sort of emotional bond to form between us. It doesn’t have to be love, I’m not an idiot, but I think more than a quick hate-fuck is needed if he’s going to become my knight in shining armor. Or as I envisage it, my co-fighter in this war I’m involved in.

My limbs are uncomfortable because although Vasily tied me in a much nicer position and gave me a t-shirt to boot, I am still tied, and it doesn’t make for easy movement.

The dawn is here. Happy birds are chirping outside, unaware of the drama, sadness, and grief us stupid humans inflict on ourselves and one another. Here we are, the highest life form on this green planet, supposedly, and yet in many ways we’re the lowest. We’re destructive. We are jealous. Greedy. Insecure. Animals with just enough brain power to make us deadly and not enough to make us truly wise.

As I muse my misanthropic thoughts, I hear footsteps. The door to my room opens, and Vasily strides in. I stare at him. He’s wearing smart trousers and a shirt. It’s open at the collar, and you can see his ink, but it’s dressy, very much so for him as he seems to live in jeans.

“Got a meeting?” I ask dryly.

“Sort of, yeah. And you need to come,” he tells me. “You need to do so quietly. Ilya’s still sleeping.”

I frown. It’s early morning; where would we be going?

“He doesn’t know we’re going on this little trip?” I ask.

Vasily snorts. “No, babe. He’s sleeping like the dead. I gave him some vodka with an Ambien chaser. He’ll not wake if you’re quiet and quick.”

“Maybe I ought to wake him. Scream the house down? Why should I trust you?”

He runs a hand over his face, as if wiping away the tired lines there. “I’m trying to help you, you dumb ass. Get the fuck up, get in the shower, be quick and quiet, and do as you’re told.”

“I can’t get up because you tied me to the bed, you dumb dick. And your morning personality is even less charming than it is the rest of the time. Untie me, and I will do as you say, oh mighty one.”

He crosses to the bed, unties me, and then hands me a bag.

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