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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As I reluctantly make my way down the driveway, I notice someone leaving the house, jogging down the steps and towards a car.
I speed up my walking, seeing if I can catch them before they leave.
They see me out of the corner of their eyes and turn to look at me, brows furrowed, and that's when I realise it's Santiago.
His face quickly becomes relieved and he jogs over to me, meeting me halfway to his car.
"What the fuck Car?" He sighs in relief, enclosing me in a hug. "Don't fucking run off like that again." He scolds, pulling away from the hug. He looks over me once, "Whose clothes are those?" He asks, skeptically.
"I stayed with a friend last night." I say, lying out of my ass.
He furrows his brows, not believing me, but looking to be in a rush to go somewhere, "Well, good luck explaining that to your brothers." He mutters, making me roll my eyes at him.
"Where are you off to anyways?" I ask, crossing my arms, tired of always being the one interrogated.
He inwardly chuckles at my interrogation pose, "Got work to do, kid." He says, ruffling my hair before turning away towards his car, "I'll see you later! If your brothers haven't killed you that is!" He calls over his shoulder and adds on as an afterthought.
I watch him as he drives off, delaying the inevitable for as long as possible before I turn around to face the entrance of the house.
I blow out a breath and make my way up the steps and to the front door.
I reluctantly enter, and am glad to see the foyer clear of people.
I shut the door and turn to sneakily make my way up to my room, before I'm pulled off the ground into a bone crushing hug.
"Oh my god, Car, I was so scared." I hear Romeo's voice muffled against my hair, making me sigh in relief considering we were on best terms at the moment.
"I'm sorry." I mumbled back to Romeo, making him scoff.
"You have nothing to be sorry about, bambina. Trust me, we all kicked Angelo's drunk ass after you ran off. He's now feeling sorry for himself in his room, stronzo." He scoffs towards the end.
(baby) (asshole)
We pull away from the hug, only for Romeo to cup my face and look over me, making sure I'm alright. He notices what I'm wearing and clenches his jaw slightly.
"You don't have to explain to me where you were," He begins, "but at least tell me you were safe." He says, obviously holding back some misdirected anger.
"Yes, yes I was safe Rome, I promise." I reassure him, making him nod once in a stern reply.
"Buono." he says, before lowering his voice slightly, "ora non so chi siano i vestiti da ragazzo che indossi, ma ti lascerò cambiare prima che gli altri ti vedano a condizione che non riveda mai più quei vestiti." He tells me harshly, my eyes widening in surprise due to his understanding yet his protective nature still appears.
