Page 9 of Seduced By the Mafia Don

“Excuse me?”

Sienna indicates with her eyes that she means the Russians. “He wanted to know how long I’ve worked here. Are you going to ask to see my GED?”

“Barinov wanted to know how long you worked here?” Adrian asks.

Sienna nods. Something about Adrian talking to her, even looking at her, pisses me off. Does that make me a possessive lunatic? Do I give a fuck? Her pants clinging tightly to her hips, her determined expression. She’s young, but she gives an air about her of being self-reliant, tough.

Viktor was quizzing her about work. Was he fishing to see if we’d had time to get to know each other? He needs to back off.

“Curious,” my mother mutters. “But Sienna, do you sketch for commission?”

“I do portraits,” Sienna replies. “Charcoal and oil or acrylic. But that’s more a… side gig.”

“I’d like to hire you.”

“Don’t you want to see my website or something first?” Sienna looks unsure, as if she doesn’t want to take work from us. My gut tightens. Obviously. Someone must’ve told her I’m the big bad wolf.

She knows I’m a Don. Or, at least, in the mob. Her demeanor obviously suggests she knows something.

“I’ve already seen what I need to,” my mother says.

“I’d have to check my schedule.”

“I’ll pay you five thousand dollars for a pencil portrait.”

Sienna gasps, her eyes going wide. I’m suddenly painfully aware of the differences in our means. To her, that is life-changing money. To us, it’s pennies. I feel guilty. And then I think of all our numerous charitable ventures, like I’m trying to justify it.

I give voluntarily. Sienna has no choice but to grind.

“Is that enough?” My mother goes on. “Or do you usually charge more?”

“Nuh…”No, is what she was going to say, but then stopped herself. She gets a wicked look in her eyes and nods. “Sorry, yes, I do. For a pencil, that’s usually seven thousand and five hundred dollars.”

“Done,” Mother says, standing and offering her hand.

Sienna still doesn’t look too happy about it, even when they shake hands. I want to tell my mother to quit whatever game this is. She’s going to bring me into Sienna’s orbit when it’s clear Sienna wants nothing to do with us. But she’ll do it for the money. It’ll turn into a seductive, misleading temptation. That was how she described sketching, wasn’t it? It applies to both.

“I should take your orders,” Sienna mutters.

“Wait a second,” my mother says. “Don’t you want to know who the portrait is for?”

“I assumed it was for you.”

“No.” My mother turns to me with a self-satisfied grin.

“Look who’s in the hot seat,” Adrian lets out, laughing.

“I’ve been wondering what to get you for your birthday,” my mother says.

“My birthday isn’t for ten months.”

“Your last birthday. I forgot to get you a gift.”

She didn’t. She bought me a watch made the very year I was born. I clearly remember, and so does she. I raise my eyebrows at her, but she doesn’t back down. I know what she’s trying to do.

“Is that going to be a problem?” She asks, turning to Sienna.

Sienna looks at me, this friendly stranger, this young woman who might’ve only bantered with me because it’s her job. I’ve become one of those deluded millionaires, thinking a service worker’s fake kindness is real.

---