Carlotta Angela Vasiliev is a 17 year old girl living with her adoptive Russian mafia family of 4 brothers and father. Ever since she was a child, she's had no sense of belonging, abused by the Swedish mafia in her youth, her Russian saviours are th...
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After leaving Carlotta and Maxim in the kitchen to prepare breakfast, I decide to head upstairs and get ready for the day.
Slipping on some blank trousers and a black button down, I fix my slightly dishevelled hair and make my way down to dad's office to discuss his business from the night before.
I enter the office and notice Andrei is already there, leaning back on one of the couches, his legs spread apart carelessly.
"Hey брат." He greets coldly, basically his default setting.
(brother)
I nod my head in a way of greeting and sit on the couch opposite him, waiting for our father to join us.
"What do you think he needs to discuss with us?" I ask Andrei, getting myself comfortable on the leather couch.
"I don't know. I'm too concentrated on tracking down Emiliano." He grits out, obvious tension still surrounding his name. My own blood boils at the mention of him.
"We'll find him. The pussy can't have gotten far in a day." I reassure, maybe more for myself than for him.
Andrei just 'hmphs' in acknowledgement whilst lighting a cigar, letting it hang from his hand as he sits forward, elbows resting on his knees.
At that moment, the office door opens, revealing our father looking menacing as always.
Cutting right to the chase, he makes his way over to his desk, rummaging through some papers, "I have updates from the Swedes." He says.
Both Andrei and I sit up a little straighter, interested in what the bastards are up to.
"And?" Andrei grits out impatiently around his cigarette.
"And," our father replies mockingly, "The heir still wants vengeance for his fathers death. Elias Nilsson, son and only heir of Oskar Nilsson."
Elias has been a problem for us for a while, not directly making any moves, but knowing that eventually his time for revenge would come. We just needed to be ready.
"He's now 26 years old, and apparently now has the manpower needed to become what their mafia once was before we killed Oskar." He continues.
"So we kill him." I suggest, simply.
Andrei rolls his eyes and puts out his cigarette, "тупая сука, have you forgotten the laws?"
(dumb bitch)
I huff and lean back in my seat, crossing my arms childishly.
The fuck do mafia's even need laws for. Aren't we supposed to be illegal?
Just as I was about to sarcastically reply, the phone on my fathers desk began to ring. He picks up with a sigh, frustrated at the interruption.
