I remember Dante’s warning from earlier about not going out at night. It’d be nice to say I’m being ridiculous. But last night did happen.
“I can’t,” I sigh, lying to my friend. “I’ve got a family thing.”
She shrugs. “No prob. I get it.”
“Next time, for sure.”
Next time, when the memories of last night aren’t fresh scars on my psyche…
I change into leggings and a hoodie, hoist my enormous bag over my shoulder, and step out of the back of the theater to go find a taxi.
But the second the stage door shuts behind me, I’m gasping in cold fear as a brutal hand wraps around my wrist and yanks me into the darkness. The breath is slammed out of my body as I’m shoved hard into a brick wall.
“Where the fuck is my money, bitch?!”
The scream dies in my throat as my gaze drags up into the snarling face of Grisha Lenkov.
Alicia’s boyfriend and Irina’s cousin is a perpetually scowling, built guy with blond hair and a sharp jaw. He’d almost be pretty in a weirdly masculine way if it wasn’t for the pure malice always smoldering in his eyes, not to mention the general creepy vibe that emanates from him.
And tonight, it’s a lot more than just creepy. Right now, his face is a mask of livid rage.
“Grisha—” I choke out.
I don’t respect Grisha Lenkov. But I do fear him, despite my family being who they are. Grisha’s a lieutenant with the Chernoff Bratva, known for their particularly brutal tactics and involvement in vile activities that most other criminal empires in this city won’t touch.
I gasp as he grabs a handful of my hoodie in his fist and leers down into my face with a snarl. “My money, shlyukha,” he spits, with all the arrogance of a man who doesn’t even care that he’s just called Vito Barone’s daughter a whore to her face. “Where the fuck is it?”
I whimper, shaking my head. “I—I don’t have any money!”
“Then where the fuck is the coke?!” he snarls coldly.
I wither under his glare.
“I—Grisha…”
“You’ve got three seconds to make me happy, Bianca,” he mutters. “Or else you can make me happy with your fucking mouth, on your knees.”
I swallow back the bile that rises in my throat.
“Th-the guys…”
“Sp-sp-spit it out!” he snaps.
“They took it!” I lie. “Grisha, the men who met us tried to attack us—”
“And I should give a fuck why?”
I stare at him. “Alicia was there too, you know. They could have hurt—”
“All I’m hearing is a bunch of bullshit, when all I want to know is where the actual fuck my four hundred grand in coke went.”
My heart drops through the floor.
What. The. Fuck.
Grisha immediately latches onto the horrified look on my face. His lips curl into a sneer as he slams me back against the brick wall.
“You heard me, cunt,” he hisses. “Where the fuck is it?!”
“They took it!” I blurt. “They chased me away and took—”
“Bullshit.”
“Grisha, I swear to God—”
My words falter. My whole body seizes up as Grisha suddenly grabs me between the legs. His hand cups my sex roughly through my leggings, almost making me vomit as my whole being curls in on itself in shame and terror.
“Grisha, please…”
“Oh, you’ll say fucking please, bitch,” he hisses darkly. “Because here’s how this is going to go down. You either get me back that cocaine, or the money it’s worth, fast, or I’ll take it out of your ass with my dick.”
Sick rises from my stomach as his hand rubs between my thighs, making me want to shatter into glass shards.
Suddenly, digging deep, I find the strength to fight him off. I grit my teeth, grabbing his wrist and shoving his hand away. In one motion, I manage to slip out from between him and the wall, quickly backing away from him.
“You will never fucking touch me like that again,” I spit venomously. “When my father—”
“What? Hears what a little whore you are? Hears about you going on drug deals? What then, Bianca?”
