Serafin: Social Rejects Syndicate (Kings of Krakow Trilogy Book 1)

by Deja Voss

  He shakes his head and walks out the door. “Why don’t you call up your ex husband and ask him for some advice?”

  “Why are you being so mean all of a sudden?” I ask.

  He turns and stares me down, his face blank and somber. “I guess I finally just realized you never gave a fuck about anybody but yourself. After all these years you finally had a chance to say it was all a misunderstanding and the only thing you have to say for yourself is that you don’t want to go to jail.”

  “Serafin, this is not the place for this conversation,” I say. “It’s complicated. We need to do this in private.”

  “Do you see these two men?” he asks. Rafal and Fabian stand in my living room, their arms crossed over their muscular chests. “They were here for me when you abandoned me. They took my shit for the last twelve years. They never left my side. You can tell me whatever you want, and I’d probably believe you, Mia. It’s in my nature. I’d bend the world the world for you, even now, but if you really want to make things right, you’re going to have to convince them, too.”

  Rafal pulls a toothpick out of his pocket and flips it between his lips, raising his eyebrows at me. Fabian won’t even look me in the eye. My heart breaks for the millionth time knowing what a monster these men think I am. I loved Serafin more than anyone in the world. We were only kids back then, and I was only doing what his parents wanted from me. I thought adults were the ones who knew best back then. It’s only since I’ve reached my thirties that I realized we’re all just figuring it out as we go.

  I wipe a tear from my eyes and hang my head. “I know what Janka and I did was wrong, but nobody was ever supposed to get hurt. I was just trying to get back on my feet after my divorce. Nobody would hire me when they heard my married name. My ex husband made sure I’d never be able to take care of myself.”

  “Save the sob story,” Fabian says, patting me on the back as he starts leading me towards the door. Rafal roughly grabs my bag and tosses it over his shoulder. “I’m sure Jakub will have something for you to do to pay off your debt to him for the watch and money Janka lifted. Maybe if you’re really good at it he’ll hire you full time.”

  I gulp. I know what Jakub hired Janka to do, but having sex with some wrinkled up old guy for money is not a low I’m willing to accept for myself. I think about how far and how fast I can run before these guys catch me. Maybe if I create a diversion or pretend like I have to pee and shimmy down the fire escape, I can make it down to Main Street and Catch a taxi.

  All of a sudden, there’s a pounding on the door that sends me into instant panic mode. I know that knock. It’s not the knock of a landlord or an old friend. It’s the kind of knock that says ‘we’re coming in whether you like it or not.’

  “Politja!” a man’s voice shouts. “Open up! We have a warrant for your arrest!”

  I dig my fingernails into Fabian’s arm, and he slaps his hand over my mouth.

  “Janka Kaminski! We know you’re in there. Open the door or we’re going to bust it down.”

  My heart is pounding so fast, I feel like I’m going to black out. They didn’t say my name, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t looking for me, too. I have no idea where she went last night after we parted ways or what she did, but there’s a good possibility I’m going to be incriminated in some way, and if I go to jail, nobody can keep me safe. Bartek made sure that notion was beaten into my head with every divorce proceeding.

  “Please,” I whisper through Fabian’s hand. “Get me out of here.”

  “I’ll deal with them,” Serafin says, walking to the door. My eyes grow wide, and he looks back over his shoulder at me with a cocky grin. “Take her out the back. Meet me in my car.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I whisper. “Why don’t you just turn me over if you want to see me suffer so bad?”

  “I don’t want to see you suffer, Mia. I do want to punish you myself, though. We have a lot of catching up to do.” He kisses the air and my thighs clamp together instinctively. I don’t know if that was meant to be a threat but somehow it feels like more than that. It feels dirty and wrong and sinful, but I crave finding out the meaning for myself.

  Fabian pushes me into the bedroom before I can ask for clarification. He yanks open the window, sticking his head out and looking left and right. My stomach does flip flops, not exactly in love with the idea of jumping out a third story window or going anywhere with this guy who obviously hates my guts.

  “The fire escape is through the bathroom window,” I whisper.

  I hear the door swing open and the low murmur of men’s voices coming from the living room. “Too late for that,” he says with a shrug. “Come on.”

  “Why are you helping me?” I ask. “You obviously hate me. You think I’m a monster.”

  “Because I’m either right or wrong about you, Mia, and you’re going to prove it one way or another. Serafin’s been pining over you since the day he met you. Everybody’s tried to tell him you’re not worth the ground he walks on, but it’s time he found out for himself. I’d like to think you’re going to prove me, Rafal, and his parents wrong…” he trails off, lowering himself onto the balcony beneath my apartment with a grunt and reaching his hand up for me.

  “His parents are the reason why I left in the first place,” I say. I apprehensively put my toe over the edge, carefully shimmying my way down the six foot drop onto a patio table. A little boy with bright red cheeks presses his face up against the glass window, sticking his tongue out as he watches us. I chase after Fabian until he reaches the fire escape and starts running down the steps, wishing he would just stop and look at me, but the row of cop cars lining the street makes my legs move a lot faster.

  We get to the ground floor and he sprints towards a black Jaguar. I don’t know much about sports cars, but I know this thing is worth more money than I’ve ever seen in my life. He shoves me in the backseat and I duck down low, trying to catch my breath as he slams the door behind him. My hand makes contact with something hard and metallic on the floor, and my jaw drops as I pick up a pair of handcuffs. I can’t help but wonder if Serafin uses these for work or if they’re a part of his extra curricular activities.

  A few awkward silent moments pass before Serafin jumps in the car and revs the engine.

  “What’d they want?” Fabian asks as Serafin looks over his shoulder at me scrunched up in the backseat. Something about his gaze makes me feel trapped. It makes me feel little. Useless. Helpless. But for some reason, the way he smiles at me makes me feel like for the first time in a long time everything is going to be alright.

  That smile never left my mind. It never left my heart. Even when Bartek was putting me through my worst, I never forgot the way Serafin always made me feel safe, even though I was never supposed to utter that name again.

  “Apparently Janka went on a real bender last night. She held up a liquor store and tried to flee the country with a fake passport. Everybody’s on the lookout for her.”

  “Jesus,” I mumble. “I had no idea she was capable of any of that.” I figured our crimes were just petty, silly, and never really hurt anybody. The men we robbed were men who could afford to be robbed. We never followed up on our blackmail threats because we never had to. She had me convinced I was committing victimless crimes and it was for the greater good.

  “They want you to come in for questioning, Mia,” Serafin says. “Told me if we saw you to bring you down to the station.”

  “What did you tell them?” I ask. The police are definitely not going to just question me. Any opportunity they get, they’ll throw me right in jail, and there, I’ll certainly be killed, just like Bartek promised.

  “I told them we were also looking for you, and if we found you first, you wouldn’t be able to answer any questions because you’d be sleeping with the fish.”

  I gasp and him and Fabian start cracking up. I can’t tell if he’s serious or not, but I’m not surprised that’s what he told the police. I’ve known my whole life th
e Kings of Krakow have everyone in this city in their pocket from cops to priests. The police officers probably thanked him for his service.

  “Awe, Misiu, have you forgotten how to take a joke?” he taunts, wrapping his arm over the seat of the car and smiling at me in the rearview mirror.

  “I’m a little on edge. I nearly saw a man die last night, the police are after me, and now I’m being kidnapped by a couple thugs. I’m really failing in seeing the humor in this.”

  “We’re not kidnapping you, Mia,” Fabian says. He pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and offers me one. I definitely need a little something to calm my nerves at this point, and I eagerly take one. “We’re saving you from a life of petty crime. You want to end up like your friend Janka? Spending the rest of your life looking over your shoulder?”

  I take the unlit cigarette and crumble it in my hand, sprinkling the tobacco all over the pristine backseat of Serafin’s car. There hasn’t been a day since Serafin’s attack where I haven’t looked over my shoulder for one reason or another. Now, I’m not even going to be able to close my eyes at night without worrying about what these psychopaths have in store for me.

  Serafin just smiles, and I try not to get sucked in. That safety I always felt with him was fleeting. It was fake. It was only based on the fact that his family’s corruption was enough to protect him from any consequences, and that his violent tendencies were never directed at me. Now as he pushes the speed down the highway and swerves in and out of cars, I wonder if it was all a sham.

  I’ll play their games. I’ll do what I have to do to pay off my debts. I’ll even do it with a smile on my face, but as I buckle my seatbelt and stare out the window, I vow that I won’t let myself get sucked in again. I won’t let him smooth talk me and make me think everything’s going to be alright. If I’ve learned anything in the last twelve years of my life, it’s that I can’t trust anybody, not my ex husband, not my family, not Janka, and especially not this dangerously handsome man who is looking at me like he wants to eat me alive. There’s madness behind those beautiful brown eyes, and I’m not going to stick around long enough to find out what it looks like when the monster comes out.

  8

  Mia:

  I pace around the guest bedroom, running my finger over the smooth wooden dressers and end tables. Serafin’s house is gorgeous, old money at its finest. Every last detail is immaculate from the gold plated light switch plates to the crown moulding. The bedspread is stark white and fluffy, and the decorations sparse, the maroon textured wallpaper the only block of color visible, and yet it’s a statement all in itself. It’s the color of blood. The color of passion. The color of the royal bloodline Serafin comes from.

  It’s a room fit for a queen, and yet looking out the window, I feel like a prisoner. Expensive cars come and go all afternoon, but I can’t hear anything from up here except the sound of my feet on the floorboards. I think this room is soundproof. I’m certain the sheets on this king sized bed are worth more than all my possessions combined.

  I thought after all these years, Serafin would at least want to sit down and talk. He seemed so interested the other night at the casino, and I wish with all my heart I would’ve just left with him that night instead of going up to the hotel room. Not just because I would’ve avoided the whole Jakub situation entirely, but maybe because I would’ve had a chance to plead my case.

  I know I promised his parents I’d never tell him about the payoff of the contract, but we’re adults now and he seems to be doing well for himself. I wonder if he even talks to them anymore? Certainly if I pleaded my case, him and his men wouldn’t think I was such a terrible person.

  Three days and three nights in silence is making me soft. I stopped plotting my escape after day two. It’s not like I’m filthy and starving like I would be in jail. The attached bathroom has a gorgeous clawfoot tub and it’s stocked to the brim with expensive soaps that smell like fresh picked citrus and herbs. His housekeeper, Maria, brings me delicious home cooked meals every day. Sometimes they’re healthy and extravagant, smoked salmon and greens dressed in tangy fruity vinaigrettes, and other times they’re comforting and traditional like warm rosol soup with fresh obwarzanek krakowski, my all time favorite bread. I wonder if he remembers how much I love it, or if maybe his chef is just really good at making it.

  There are shelves full of books lining the walls, and I don’t think I’ve ever had the luxury in my whole life of an uninterrupted afternoon of reading, even though I have always loved burying my nose in a book. Something about it feels empty, though. I definitely didn’t earn this right, and I’m pretty sure it could be taken away from me at any time.

  I guess I’ve spent most of my life waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  I have no idea what Serafin has planned for me, and as much as I just want to sprawl out in this comfy bed and read until my eyes can’t focus, my mind can’t focus long enough to stop worrying about what’s on the other side of that door.

  There’s a soft knock, and I wonder if it’s Maria wanting to clean the bathroom or change the bedsheets. I hate that she does those things that I’m capable of. I literally have no responsibility, I have all the time in the world, I don’t need looked after like I’m helpless.

  I open the door and she’s standing there with a tray in her arms. The first thing I see is the bouquet of blood red roses laying on top. They’re beautiful but dangerous, the stems covered in pointed thorns. Serafin sure knows exactly how I feel about him.

  “I just ate a few hours ago, Maria. You really don’t have to feed me so much. I’ve survived three days off of microwave popcorn when I was waiting for some money to come in,” I say with a nervous laugh. I don’t know why I constantly feel the need to tell Maria about how bad I had it before. Maybe it’s because I don’t want her to think I’m like them. I’m sure deep down she probably despises the people she works for. If I’m going to survive in this house, I need an ally.

  Talking to her is like talking to a brick wall, though.

  She pushes the tray out to me. “It’s not food, dama.” Every time she calls me that, my skin crawls. I am certainly not a lady or a queen. I’m a homeless criminal biding my time while the Kings try and figure out just what they want from me. “It’s an invitation. Serafin would like to see you for dinner tonight.”

  My heart races as I take the tray from her hands. It feels so formal and cold. This house is huge, but he knows where to find me. If he wanted to have dinner with me, he could’ve just asked me himself. Back when we were dating, he never asked at all, just showed up and opened the door of his car and I followed him wherever he wanted to take me.

  Maybe he has grown up.

  I feel a warmth in my core thinking about him dressed nicely, smelling all good, looking all dark and sexy, the two of us in a dark room enjoying a meal and wine like two upper class citizens without a care in the world. His hand on my thigh under the table. Closing my eyes and leaning in to kiss him while soft violin music plays in the background.

  I am not that kind of person, though. All the money in the world won’t take away who I truly am. It could be fun to pretend though, even if it’s just for a night.

  “I will come for you at seven,” she says. “Does the dama need any special preparations?”

  “I don’t know, do I?” I ask. I figure as long as I’m showered and do something with my hair, I’m about as good as I’m going to get. He’s seen me in much worse condition, like when he used to walk me home from the bakery and I was all covered in flour, smelling like a Kolachke and drenched in sweat. Maybe his tastes have changed in the time we’ve been apart.

  “Let me know. I can send someone for supplies.” She slips a brown bag stuffed with tissue paper into my hand and shuts the door behind her and my mind starts racing, thinking about all the women he’s probably been with over the years. He’s rich and gorgeous. He could have his pick at nearly anyone from celebrities to royalty. I fall in neither of those categories
unless Poland’s Most Wanted Criminal counts as fame. He’s going to be sorely disappointed when he finds out I’m still the lowly dull peasant he knew from high school.

  All this money his parents gave me couldn’t buy me grace or class.

  I whistle as I tear the tissue paper out of the bag and feel the silk dress inside.

  It’s navy blue and comes all the way down to the floor, an elegant slit up the side. It’s very tasteful and plain, and even though the neckline comes up high, I can’t help but feel sexy just touching it. I fall down on the bed and start laughing when I pull the bright red lingerie out of the bag.

  He’s still the boy I fell for all those years ago.

  I read the note, scrawled in his choppy handwriting. “I never had a chance to take you to Studniowka. Let’s try this again.”

  It’s a tradition in Poland for women to wear bright red under their dresses to surprise their dates afterwards. Apparently, he wasn’t too concerned about the surprise factor.

  I hold up the sheer lacy panties up to the light, marveling at the intricate flowers cut out in the fabric. They’re definitely racier than the cotton polka dot boy shorts I have in about every color. I guess I probably should’ve told Maria I needed some supplies, namely a waxing kit and some double sided tape to hold the matching strapless bra up.

  He wants me sexy for him.

  I want to give it to him.

  “Noooooooo,” I whisper. “You’re not doing this to yourself, and you’re not doing this to him.”

  I set the lingerie down and toss a pillow over my head. That’s how it’s always been with him. As much as I want to push him away and do my own thing, he always finds a way to suck me back in. He always tries to bribe me. I can’t let nostalgia cloud my mission.

  I can’t forget about who he is.

  More importantly, I can’t let him forget who I am.