Page 2 of Bratva Bastard

“Okay, but can you organize this meeting forafterZoran’s wedding? I refuse to miss that for some asshole we don’t even like.”

Misha nodded. “That’s fine. I like Zoran, he’s a good man.”

Zoran was my best friend, and he’d helped me in St. Petersburg with the money-laundering, so I introduced him to Misha, who gave him a job in Brazil with Dimitry’s end of the business. That was where Dimitry and his wife Gemma lived.

“I’ll arrange for the meeting to be sometime after the wedding. And tell Zoran, congratulations.”

The way Misha said it, I knew what he was implying,when areyougoing to settle down already?

My brothers had wives and families—which I totally respected—but it wasn’t for me. I loved their families, but a family of my own? Pass! I liked the lifestyle I live, the freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted, with no attachments. I’d always been that way.

I’d always been the outsider, teased for being a bastard child. Growing up with no family but my mother, I learned to rely on myself, not needing anyone else. Who needs a relationship to hold them down? Or a family to have to consider constantly?

Misha had to tell Sophia when he left, and couldn’t party because he had to be home for dinner and spend time with his kids. For him, that’s great. I loved that he’s so devoted to his family—it showed a lot about his character. But me? I couldn’t offer that kind of commitment and devotion. And I didn’t want to.

Might as well call me a bastard and a player for life, because that was where I was headed, and I was more than happy with that conclusion. In fact, when our meeting was over, I would head to the bar and find a cute little brunette to take home with me.

Who needs love when you can have a good fuck?

1

Crissy

My life was a routine. A constant reminder that my responsibilities outweighed my own desires.

But that’s what happens when you’re responsible for someone else’s wellbeing. Not that I minded, but there was something about giving up on my dreams before I had them that was quite discouraging. Just knowing that whatever it was I wanted to do, I couldn’t do it.

For one reason or another, something always held me back. Bills. My mother’s health. It was alwayssomething.

But I love my mother. She was my world. That was why it was so devastating when we found out…

She had cancer. My poor, sweet mother—who raised me on her own since I can remember—hadcancer. No matter how many times it’d been said, it was always shocking.Always crushing.

Because there was nothing I could do to stop it. Nothing but keep her comfortable, keep her medications stocked so she never feels the same level of pain that she experiences without them.

Maybe that was why I tried so hard to keep us afloat—why I worked my life away, to make ends meet. I couldn’t disappoint her now. Not even for a minute could I slow down, because that was one less minute I’d be paid, less money to help us survive—to helphersurvive.

Her time was limited—that I know. Whether it was ten months, or ten years, who knew? Life had a funny way of surprising us. But I didn’t want to assume she had a long life ahead of her if it meant sacrificing my time with her now. I didn’t want to say, “Oh, I’ll spend time with her tomorrow,” only to wake up and find out that tomorrow never came.

That would be worse than the exhaustion I felt from working two jobs and maintaining our humble home. I wanted to squeeze in as much time with her as I could, while I could. That is why we live together, why I never left Trancoso, and why I met her for lunch on my last day of work for a few days.

I’d just finished instructing my yoga class and had two hours to spare before I had to get to my bartending shift at the hotel.

Sweat dripped down my face after an intense morning of yoga. Using the towel around my neck, I wiped my forehead, and the cool chill from the fan gave me goosebumps.

“Great class today, Ms. Crissy.” One of my favorite students waved with a big smile as she left the room.

“Have a nice afternoon, Antonia,” I called back, locking up the studio before I rushed back to my house to pick up my mother for lunch.

One day, I would love to have a yoga studio of my own. But that dream seemed so distant, so out of reach. Would it ever come to fruition?

Probably not.

Most likely, I’d end up married to my boyfriend Luiz. My mother had strongly suggested it would be the best decision. “Luiz is financially stable. He’s handsome. A life with him is a life of security.”

But what aboutlove?

Do I love Luiz? I don’t know, maybe. We’re close, and we’re good friends. I love him in the same sense that I love anyone who’s close to me—butlovelove? I’m not sure…

---