Chapter 6: Mariana's Pov

“Alexandr Radimr Vastlav. Thirty five years old. The newly named Pakhan of the Orekhovskaya OPG. In simple terms, the Crime boss of Bratva. First son of Vladimr Zakone Vastlav.”

My slides pad against the floor as I make my way down the stairs, dreading the conversation that I’m about to have with mio padre.

“His family and our family haven’t been great friends for years and it unnerves me how a son of Zakone would want to be in business with our family.”

I stop midway, placing my palm flat on the wall, releasing a shuddered breath.

“Something happened to me years ago, way before you and your brother were even conceived and the Russians were involved. Your uncle Ares gave them hell while I was stuck on a wheelchair.”

I contemplate turning back around and heading back into my room but I don’t go with either option. I’m a loyal soldier and I’ll do what I have to do.

“Years later, after I’ve had you and your brother, they connived with Marcelo and tried taking you both from me. Your father and brother barely survived. I personally gave them hell afterwards.”

I exhale hot, ragged breaths out of my mouth.

“I made sure to ruin their family to the point of no return but they somehow rebuilt their empire and acquired more power. How can the first son of a man who should be hunting for my head ever suggest an alliance between both families?”

My trembling fingers rake through my hair.

“This is why I’m here to ask you this favor, not as your boss but as your mother. . .”

The following hours after I had woken up from my slumber were spent learning about the Russian man who has been nothing but a pain in my ass since the very day he arrived here.

While listening to my boss as she went on and on listing out every necessary information that I needed to know about this man, there was only one question playing in the back of my mind.

What does this have to do with me?

But of course I couldn’t interrupt her during her orientation, but at the end of that unnecessarily long speech, she finally clarified my doubts. So, here I am, walking down the stairs with ragged breaths, teary eyes, and a heavy heart as I approach my father with the sole purpose of declaring my interest in the marriage proposal made earlier by Alexandr Radimr Vastlav.

Do I want to marry the man?

No.

Why am I doing this?

Well, the answer is quite simple.

Asides from the fact that this was handed to me as my special mission, my boss said and I quote, “I’m not asking this of you as your employer but as your mother.”

She played the emotional manipulation card and I fell for it like a fool.

Heaving out a breath, I plop down on the cushion, making sure to initiate bodily contact with my father who seems to be overtaken by rage.

How the hell do I calm this man down?

I pick up my father’s cup which is already filled with an alcoholic liquid, gulping down the harsh content in the cup with a grimace and a grunt before setting the cup back down.

“Mi dispiace, papá,” I whisper wearily, “I’m sorry for being a disappointment, for becoming a bad child, for being nothing but a pain in your ass. I’m so sorry papá. I know you hate me bu—”

“I don’t,” he stops me short, “far from it, Maria. I would never hate you but I’m just confused, I’m confused as to how it got to this.” He breathes out a sigh throwing his head back, both hands dragging across his face—clawing at his skin.

First step into getting back my father’s love. . .emotional manipulation.

How do I manipulate him emotionally?

Become emotional myself and cook up the dirtiest and most disgusting backstory ever known to man.

Men like my father are very protective and possessive of things or the people they’ve claimed ownership of, and if I were to tell my father that I began spiraling out of control after someone did some disgusting things to me, that might actually work. . .

Think fast Mariana.

Got it!

A choked sob erupts from the back of my throat and I cover my mouth with the back of my palm, muttering incoherent words under my breath.

“I’m just so sorry, papá,” I lean down, placing my head on his thigh as I sniffle. Father begins stroking my hair without uttering a word but I know my antics are working considering the fact that he’s all tensed up and his breaths have become quite shallow.

“Someone hurt me so bad, papá. He hurt me so so much and it really messed with my head. I became useless—”

“Don’t say that, firecracker. You’re not useless. You’re the smartest and brightest girl I’ve ever known,” He says assuredly. I respond with a hum as I lift my head off his thighs. My lips immediately upturn into a smirk when my eyes zero on a dark corner.

Kill two birds with one stone.

“When you first signed me up for combat training, I met a boy and we hit it off.” I start. “He told me how much he loved me and he was so good to me until he wasn’t good anymore. He started cursing at me often, calling me an ugly, selfish, overbearing, self absorbed, dirty, disgusting. . .he would call me all sorts of names whenever he got the opportunity and at some point, it began messing with my mind. . .I became less and less confident.”

Father grunts frustratedly, his fist tightening around the glass cup so much that his knuckles pale. He waits for me to continue and I do.

“One day, he hit me once, then apologized for it. I forgave him.” I choke out a sob, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I watch my father’s legs as they bounce impatiently. “And then he hit me again and again and again until it became a continuous event. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I asked the General to move me into a private quarter and he did.”

My chest vibrates as I whimper, sniffling and wiping off the mess on my face with the back of my palm. “I thought I had escaped from him, but one day, he broke into my quarters with his friends and all of them took turns hitting me. They beat me up until I was close to passing out before they left, leaving me alone with my boyfriend at the time. The fool began apologizing and begging me to give him another chance. He said he got so paranoid that he couldn’t function properly without me. He just continued speaking and I was begging him to leave my room and leave me alone. He didn’t leave. He started touching me and I was screaming at him not to. I begged him many times not to do it but he succeeded and took advantage of me without my consent.”

I flinch as the glass cup in my father’s hand shatters, his blood dripping onto his thigh as his body vibrates in complete rage. Tears slide down his cheeks and he smacks them off angrily.

“Give me a name.” He grits and I shift uncomfortably, unable to come up with a believable name at such short notice.

I whimper. “Please Dad, just leave it alone. I’m okay now. I’ll be fine.”

“Give me a fucking name goddamnit!”