Page 121 of Wrapped in Perfection

"Who my mother really worked for."

"Who was it?"

I focus on the ceiling, hating this part of my family history. "Zamir Petrov, the Russian mob boss."

Anna slides up and pins me with her gaze. I'm not sure what I expected, but her voice isn't scared or angry. It's calm. "Are you and your brothers part of the mafia?"

"No." I exhale. "Yes. It's complicated."

A line forms between her eyes. "How?"

"The food in our bellies and clothes on our backs was from his money. The degree Maksim earned, and the one I almost obtained, he paid for. Boris interrupted a meeting with him and my mother. Zamir explained to Boris how he owned us. My mother claimed it wasn't true and not part of their deal. She insisted only she was indebted to him. But we all were. And he was ready for us to pay off our growing debt. Four boys were more valuable to him than one mother could ever be."

My stomach flips so fast, I feel dizzy and have to look away from Anna. I sit up and try to get more air into my lungs.

She doesn't let me go. She moves closer and puts her arm around my back and head on my shoulder.

I don't deserve her affection. I shouldn't be telling her any of this.

"Whatever you tell me, I will still love you."

She won't. It's not possible.

"I'm a bad man, my kotik. No matter how much good I do going forward, it will never erase the demon of my past, or even allow him to escape me. And I will always be a man who can call upon the evil within me at any time and utilize it how I see fit."

She sternly says, "Dmitri, tell me what happened."

I get up and walk to the window. Her touch is too much for me. It shouldn't mix with my truth. I cross my arms, fixating on one of the buildings and the windows lit up against the night sky. "Zamir took my mother. He instructed my brothers, even Sergey, who was only twelve, to meet him in a warehouse to get her back. If we didn't come, he said he would put her in his whorehouse before killing her."

My insides shake with rage so intense, I have to swallow back bile. It's the same as back then. Helplessness mixes with the rage, creating a concoction so potent, I reach out for the window to steady myself.

Anna steps behind me and circles her arms around my waist.

"Don't touch me right now. You are the good in my life. I can't have you mixed up in this," I mumble, barely able to breathe.

She holds on to me tighter and presses her cheek against my spine. "I love you. I am part of you, including anything you don't like."

"You will never be part of this, and I don't want you to be. Only good resides in you."

"You think too highly of me. We all have parts we hate."

"Not like this, Anna."

"Maybe not, but there is nothing you can say that will make me not love you. And I will find a way to love even this part of you that you despise."

She doesn't know what she's saying.

Minutes pass. I don't move, and neither does she.

"Dmitri, tell me the rest."

The twitching in my jaw intensifies. "When we got to the warehouse, his thugs took us to a back room. Plastic covered the walls and floor. Six metal chairs lined up perfectly straight with six warm bodies in them; five men and one woman, tied to the seats, with gags in their mouths. The woman was my mother." I swallow more bile, remembering my mother's fear and tear-filled eyes. "Zamir's thugs held knives to our throats while he explained how we would get our mother back."

Anna squeezes me harder then takes a deep breath. Her chest presses against my back as air fills her lungs.

I don't want to look at her.

Don't be a coward.

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