Redemption (The Volkov Mafia Series Book 4)

by Samantha Harrington

  “I just want to say sorry, Emma … it wasn’t anything you did. I just have a load of shit going on and, with everything that’s happened, I still struggle to cope sometimes.” I try to be honest and soften my tone for her.

  “I only asked if you were ok, or if you needed to talk about it, but you shut me out and spoke to me like a piece of shit. Don’t you think I’ve had enough of men treating me like that?”

  I know she is closer to the door now because her voice sounds much louder. I just hope this time she lets me in.

  “Open the door, Emma. Can we talk about it now?” I ask, hoping my tone is sincere.

  She doesn’t reply, but then I hear the unmistakable sound of the lock on the door being opened.

  She pulls it open ajar and looks at me for a moment before moving out of the way to let me pass.

  “You need to talk to me. If you want a shot at this then you have to be honest, and if you ever speak to me like that again I will cut your fucking balls off while you sleep.”

  I take a step back and my balls tighten at her words, but the odd thing is that my dick starts to twitch at her tone … fuck, her talking back and demanding has me getting hard for her.

  “Look, I can’t tell you everything right now. Trust me, if I did you would run, and you would never look at me the same way again, but I will tell you why I woke up like I did.”

  I hope it’s enough. I know if this gets serious then I’m going to have to tell her more, but not right now. I don’t think I could handle it if she walked away from me. I couldn’t stay in this house knowing she was here, not being able to talk to her, touch her or fuck her.

  “Talk,” she demands.

  “I have the same dream most nights, about my mother, like I was there while they beat her. I watched her take her final breath, knowing that I couldn’t do anything to help her. Worst of all is the guilt that eats away at me knowing that it’s all my fault.”

  I rush through as quickly as possible, not wanting to dwell on my thoughts, but needing her to see that I’m trying to give her what she needs.

  “Why would you be ashamed of telling me something like that? If you would have said that to me when you woke, do you think I would have kicked you out of here? No, I would have held you and told you that your mother’s death wasn’t your fault, that you couldn’t have done anything to stop Ivan, but he got his just rewards, your brother made sure of that. That’s what families do, and you need to trust that yours will always have your back.”

  Her words don’t make me as pissed as I thought they would, but she doesn’t get it. My need to gamble caused all of this. My own addiction was my downfall. My arrogance, thinking that I could run, got my mother killed. I may not have pulled the trigger, but I might as well have loaded the damn bullets.

  “It’s hard to admit something like that, it’s like admitting your own weaknesses. You can’t do it if you’re not ready to make the change and conquer what’s bringing you down, and for months now I haven’t been ready,” I tell her.

  “Alek, I get that, but after everything you said to me — before you got in my pants — you became as cold as ice, shutting down so that no one could get close. You’re like a chameleon, only showing people what you want them to see.”

  Normally I don’t really give a shit what people say, but for some reason this girl just gets through.

  “Look, Emma, I have tried to give you the best explanation I can. I don’t want to push you away like everyone else, but you can’t expect me to be perfect overnight.”

  I can see it in her eyes that she knows what I’m saying is true. I wouldn’t stand here and let anyone else talk to me like this; if this was someone at work, I would have wiped the floor with them the second they tried to answer back.

  “I know,” she whispers.

  Even though we don’t talk much, she has been around me for months. She knows what I’m like, just like I know her. I always absorb everything I can about her. I have it all stored away for a rainy day.

  “Look, I have to go to work, but are we ok picking this up tonight when I get back in? I don’t want to leave you, but I have to right now,” I say, hoping she can see the truth in my eyes.

  She nods her head and, looking up into my eyes, she gives me what I need to be on my way. I get my smile …

  Chapter Five

  Emma

  Thoughts are reeling in my mind. He has just left for work, and I’m more confused now than I was this morning when I kicked him out of my room.

  I know he has demons, I just didn’t think they were that bad; to wake up like that in a sweat and then just shut me out pissed me off, but then to come back here and tell me about it, only giving me a little snippet more of an excuse than a reason, it hurt.

  But I shouldn’t ask for so much. I know we have only slept together once, and for me that’s a big deal. He was someone I wanted to sleep with, not someone I was told to sleep with. I made the choice!

  But for him I’m probably just another notch on his bedpost, the weak girl he could have a little fun with without having to try hard. I was practically begging for it. So to him it was easy; no date to get to know each other, no expense to pay out on wining and dining, no sense of pretense. He knew exactly what he would get, because when it came down to it, I wouldn’t be able to say no.

  After months of being under Ivan’s control, I felt this deep need to obey. When I tried to pull away, he would just amp up the torture. My brain may have screamed stop, but my body caved. And as soon as the first orgasm hit I was powerless to stop it.

  So I won’t hold it against him. I will go about my routine like I do every day, and if once was all he wanted then fine. His words may have said different but actions speak louder, and the way he is acting is that it was a one-time deal, and he only came to me to keep the peace because we are both under Damien’s roof and in his debt.

  I shower and change, throwing on a pair of jeans and an off-the-shoulder cream jumper with a sequined 88 printed on the front. I have Faith to thank for my new clothes, because when they brought me back I had nothing but the underwear I was wearing. But she soon sorted that out and had lots of things delivered to the house for me, and that’s something I won’t ever forget.

  Making my way downstairs, I know I have time for coffee, and Damien always plays with little Anya in the morning before he heads out to his office. I’m not one hundred percent sure what he does and I think it’s probably better if I don’t know.

  Faith is going to be getting Anya dressed and sorting her breakfast.

  I walk into the kitchen and make myself a coffee. I can’t function properly without it, it’s my little fix. Sitting down in my spot with the hot mug cradled in my hands, I pull my feet up on the chair and look out to the garden. It feels strange to be doing it a little later this morning. It has become a ritual, a way to shed my thoughts before the day begins.

  “Morning, Emma, how are you today?” I hear Faith’s bright chirpy voice coming from the other side of the kitchen. I look up and see her blonde hair looks perfect, not a single hair out of place. Her black, sleek pencil skirt is fitted to perfection, highlighting every curve. The deep purple silk top that she has tucked inside floats off her body, even down to the Louboutin shoes encasing her feet. No doubt they are Cami’s; Faith wont indulge in that luxury, but she knows Cami will, so she borrows her shoes all the time. I think it’s endearing when you love someone that much, trusting them with your valued possessions, that you can freely borrow without fear.

  “Morning, Faith. You look amazing. You off anywhere nice today?” I ask, giving her the compliment she truly deserves.

  “Oh, I have an interview for a job. It’s a trendy new gallery that’s just opened in the city. Damien doesn’t know yet; he thinks me and Cami are just going to spend more money, but I want to contribute. If you’re looking after Anya every day, then I have the time to go out and do something that I want to do. Don’t tell him yet, you know how he feels about security. It’s onl
y an interview, so no need to cause him needless worry. Are you ok looking after Anya and Charlie this morning for us, please? We should be home before two.”

  I’m stunned, trying to absorb what this amazing woman has just told me. I know Damien has traditional values, that the men work and provide for their family while the wife keeps the house and looks after the children, but that’s not Faith, even I know that. She is independent and hates handouts. She is strong that’s for sure. After everything she has been through, she has come out fighting on the other side and, if I’m honest, she is who I want to take inspiration from to get me through this nightmare.

  I want to be able to have a good job, and a man in my life that doesn’t mind my past and can deal with it enough to let me have a future. I want to be able to face my parents. I don’t want them to think I’m dead anymore. They deserve to know that their daughter is alive, even if she’s not whole anymore, she is carving her way with this shit hand she has been dealt.

  “Yeah, that’s no problem. I will take care of the kids for you. They aren’t a bother, you know that. Faith, you know if you want anything, that man is so wrapped around your finger he will give or let you do anything that you want,” I tell her. The little smile that forms at the corner of her mouth tells me she knows it as well.

  “That’s what I’m counting on, Emma. Cami should be here in five, and Anya is playing in the nursery,” she tells me as her retreating form sashays out of the kitchen towards the hallway. The little swish in her hips, the confidence she portrays, is effortless.

  I make my way towards the nursery. I hear the giggles as I get closer. I open the door and the baby gate to see Anya sat at the little table pretending to give a baby a bottle, and trying to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. She is so cute.

  I walk towards her and kneel down to her level. “Good morning, little miss, and how are you today?”

  “Emmmmmaaa. Look, I feed baby. She is hungry, so I do what people do to me when I’m hungry.” I love the way she speaks; it’s not fluent yet, but you can clearly understand what she is saying.

  “Oh that’s nice, sweetie. It’s always kind to make sure no one is ever hungry. Are you ready to come downstairs? Charlie is coming to play.” I stand up and hold my hand out for her, getting a little flutter as her tiny hand wraps in mine. In this moment, there is pure love and trust shining in her eyes, and I know that this little girl never judges me on the actions of my past. To know that this little angel simply likes being in my company, makes every day seem that little bit brighter.

  “Charlieeee coming to play?” she questions. I just nod my head in response and pick her up as we get to the top of the stairs. I carry her down the impressive staircase; her little legs wouldn’t be able to get her down them without help, and I love the fact that she still lets you pick her up to get her where she needs to be. The ruffles in her dress, the pigtails in her hair, her white patent shoes and white frilly socks make her seem like a little princess. No one can mistake this little girl for a boy. She is a proper daddy’s girl. She lives for her dad; he is her knight in shining armor, her protector, and the man who chases the monsters away.

  He makes her giggle every day and always has time for her. He never tells her to go and ask her mum if she wants to do something with him, he makes sure he does it for her. It’s not a ‘being spoilt’ thing, it’s a ‘she is the centre of her dad’s world’, and that’s how it should be from what Faith has told me. He doesn’t want to turn into his father, and that is what makes him a better man in my eyes. He knows that he needs to be better than his father, and he tries every damn day to be what she needs, whether it be a protector or someone she can just chat to about her day. He always has time. When I see him every night putting her to bed, kissing the top of her head, whispering that he loves her to the moon and back, and she then falls asleep knowing that her daddy is only a name away, it melts my heart.

  I had that with my dad, and now they think I’m dead. Grieving for a daughter they think they’ve lost, but she is hiding in plain sight. That guilt eats at me every day, but I’m ashamed to go home. I’m ashamed to even try right now.

  We step into the living room. It looks like a playroom now; toys cover the corner of the room, more than any little girl really needs. Charlie is playing on the floor with a fire engine while Faith and Cami are sitting on the sofa, catching up, watching him play.

  “Oh, there’s my little cutie pie. Come here to Auntie Cami so I can get my cuddle before me and your mummy escape.” I put Anya down and watch her little legs working hard to cover the space of the living room to get to Cami as quick as she can. She wobbles a couple of times, but she doesn’t go down. She manages to keep herself upright long enough for Cami to scoop her up in her arms, plastering her face with kisses.

  The squeal that little Anya releases is infectious, and we all burst into laughter listening to it. Cami pops Anya back on the floor, and Anya makes her way across to Charlie so they can play.

  “Thanks for watching them both, Emma. We would be lost without you,” Cami says to me, her tone warm and genuine. She has never shown me anything different. She doesn’t judge me, just like Faith doesn’t. They have accepted me, flaws and all, and have made me feel part of the family. A pang of guilt hits me with that thought — I miss my own family.

  “It’s no bother. I love playing games with these two little terrors, they keep my mind off other things.” There must be something in pitch of my voice because they both stop and look at me, their eyes filled with concern.

  “Are you ok?” they both ask at the same time.

  “Yes, I just miss my family, that’s all.” I tell them the truth; there really is no point trying to lie to these two, they can sniff out a lie a mile away.

  “I know you do, sweetie, and there is nothing stopping you from picking up the phone and calling them. Let them know your safe and well. I know you can’t face them yet and you have your reasons for that. Valid as they are, a call won’t hurt you. At least then they don’t have to grieve for a daughter that’s not lost to them. You’re lucky you have a family that care so much about you that they are still trying to find you even after all this time. They haven’t given up hope, it’s you that has done that.” I always get a straight answer from Faith. She makes you feel that what she says is right. Has you questioning everything that you have done, trying to get you to see it from her point of view.

  “I just don’t think I can right now, plus that’s not the only problem I’m facing at the moment, and they would definitely not like the second dilemma,” I tell them. Their eyes lock onto mine with questioning gazes searing right through me. “I will tell you both tonight over a couple of drinks. I might scare the little children with what I have to tell you so be warned, but you will be glad you waited, that I can assure you.”

  “Tonight then, Emma. You know I won’t let this drop now. You have opened a can of worms and you won’t be able to close it again, do you understand?”

  “I do,” is all I say. They get up and make their way to the front door where their driver, Marc, is waiting for them in a beautiful, black Range Rover Sport.

  I wave as they leave the drive. I make my way inside the house; this is the best time of the day when I have the kids because they take the memories away. No judgment, just the need to have fun, and with everything that’s going on in my head right now, I need some fun.

  “Time for some dinner you two little monkeys,” I say to the children. We have had a morning filled with laughter and games, painting memories on huge rolls of paper. I can still feel the paint drying between my toes.

  I take hold of their hands and lead them to the kitchen so that I can prepare their dinner.

  After placing them both into their booster seats at the table and making sure they are strapped in, I head over to the cooker and start making them beans on toast. It’s not much, but with some fruit for pudding it’s a little warm filler on a cold day.

  They both scoff up the food and I clea
n up, taking the dishes to the sink and putting them in to soak.

  ******

  I hear the door opening and in come Cami and Faith, giggling. I’m glad that they get some quality time together whilst I look after the children. Their friendship has been tested to the limit and they have come back stronger than ever.

  “Hey, Emma, have the kids been good?” Faith asks me.

  “When are they ever not good?” I say with a laugh. And it’s true; they are always good for me. We play games and laugh and do silly things.

  “How did the interview go?” I whisper, knowing that Damien is just down the hall in his office.

  “I think it went well, but even if it didn’t I picked up this stunning pair of Prada’s. Have you seen these?” She pulls out the most beautiful pair of Prada shoes I have ever seen. The black and red strappy heels are to die for. I’m just glad that the day wasn’t a total bust for them.

  “You haven’t forgot about tonight have you?” Cami asks me.

  “No, I haven’t. I’m looking forward to it actually. Letting my hair down with the girls is something I haven’t done for a long time.” I smile as the words leave my mouth. I am looking forward to it, more than I probably should, because once I tell them what’s happened, the night might just take a turn for the worst. I just hope they won’t judge me too harshly.

  “Right, you go off and do whatever you want to do, and we will sort the little ones out.” Faith’s words are kind as she speaks. I’m about to shake my head and tell her it’s fine, that I have nothing to do, but then I think how nice it would be to have an hour or two in the library getting lost in a book. So I just nod my head and exit the room, kissing the two monkeys on the head before I leave.

  I love the library in the house, it’s full to the brim with books of all genres. The smell of old paper assaults my senses as soon as I walk in. The bright colours of the book spines catch my eye, making me yearn to go and touch one, to pick it up and open its pages so that I can get lost in a different world, to be a fly on the wall in a great adventure. You have to give the authors credit, all the details in each of these books. There hours and hours of research and writing. To give us a place to escape reality. Have people really forgotten how to read off paper, to be absorbed in everything that is written on those printed pages?