Affair With My Ex's Billionaire Father

Thwack!

The sound of the spank landing on my ass was swallowed by the loud music playing in the club found in the sketchy parts of Moscow. I turned and glared at the man who had dared touch me.

He flashed his yellow teeth at me and laughed.

"Come on, baby. Come sit on my lap so I can give you a twenty-dollar bill." He said and his friends laughed along with him. 

"Come on, baby. Let's go to the alley and I'll show you a good time."

"Or we can all go to the alley and all show her a great time. I promise I'll pull your red hair hard."

A series of laughter was heard at the table. They were all so disgusting that they made me want to throw up. 

I hated everything about working in that bar. From the slutty uniforms the manager forced us to wear consisting of booty shorts, a very skimpy crop top that showed off my cleavage, and very high heels, to how the manager encouraged bad behavior from customers.

I walked straight to Denis, the manager, and said, "That man harassed me."

He rolled his eyes at me and pretended not to hear me. Realizing speaking to him was a losing game, I gave up and continued to serve alcoholic drinks to rowdy and disrespectful customers.

Luckily, no one groped me again. My feet were killing me due to the impractical shoes Boris forced us to wear but I endured until the very end. I needed money and I was willing to endure pain to get it.

Luckily, no one tried to 'accidentally' grope my breasts. 

Once I was done with my shift, I left the club. It was almost 1 am. I clutched my trench coat tighter to my body and hurried home. The streets were usually unsafe for that time of the night.

You could get attacked.

I got to my apartment in half an hour. It was also located downtown, but it was in the better parts. Granted, the neighborhood was unsafe, but it was relatively safer than other parts.

My apartment was only broken into a couple of times and not almost every day like in other neighborhoods.

The apartment was small. The bed, the couch, and the kitchen were all in one room. I couldn't afford a one-bedroom apartment. However, it was in good condition compared to other places.

My walls were only slightly cracked, and the paint was peeling off a little. There were still plumbing leaks that the landlord refused to fix, but it didn't bother me because the place didn't flood.

A bucket under the leaks helped avoid water on the floor. 

The apartment was all I could afford. Papa wasn't able to take me to college because of his addiction problems so I was stuck doing odd jobs to survive.

Before I even settled in, my phone blared. Papa was calling.

"Viktor…if you're calling to borrow money—"

"Emilie…you have to run. You have to get out of town!" He said frantically.

There were only a handful of times that I had seen Viktor in fear. In his usual drug-induced state, very little moved him. He was always carefree. 

However, I could hear the panic in his voice.

"Why?"

"You have to leave Moscow—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the line went dead. I tried to remain calm but I couldn't. I couldn't shake off that something was very wrong. Nothing ever scared Viktor. I had to go see him.

He lived in an apartment that wasn't very far away from mine. I rushed over there in a cab and rushed into the building. I couldn't help but notice there were a lot of black cars parked outside.

I didn't dwell on that too much because Viktor's apartment building was full of all sorts of criminals. 

Once I got to Viktor's floor, I rushed to his apartment and knocked on his door. There was shuffling on the other end of the door before it opened and a scared Viktor came into sight.

He had tape covering his mouth and there was a big muscular man behind him. He had a gun pointed at Viktor's head.

"Get in or we blow his fucking brains out," the man said with a deep Russian accent.

Viktor's once-empty eyes were now full of fear. He couldn't even look me in the eye. My best friend Zoya would call me stupid if she knew Papa asked me to leave town and I went to see him instead. 

He was a well-known loan shark so he dealt with dangerous people. It was only a matter of time before bad people came looking for him.

I got a glimpse of a tattoo on the back of the man's hand. It was the tattoo of a spider climbing up a web on the back of his hand. He was Bratva. Fuck. 

Papa had wronged the Russian Mafia, better known as the Bratva. Everyone knew they owned Moscow and even the whole of Russia. They had ties to law enforcement, the government, the entertainment industry…everything. 

"I told you to get in!" The man shouted, making me jump in fear. I was sweating everywhere and my hands were shaking uncontrollably.

I didn't wait to be told a third time. The man was getting ready to kill Viktor. He stepped aside to let me in and slammed the door behind me.

The fear that was buzzing in my body was unlike any other that I had ever felt before. This was the Russian Mafia we were dealing with. Of all the people Viktor had wronged, why did it have to be the Russian Mafia?

There were three other men in Viktor's apartment. One of them was sitting on the couch and the other two were standing on either side of him. The room was a little dark so it was hard to see very clearly.

"Your father owes us a lot of money worth of drugs. He can't seem to pay. How do you want us to resolve this matter?" The man on the couch spoke. 

His voice was deep and laced with velvet. One wouldn't think a man as dangerous as he was would have such a beautiful voice. 

I recognized him immediately, and I knew it wasn't just his voice that was beautiful—his whole body was gorgeous.

Even in a well-tailored suit, I could tell he had a muscular and well-defined physique with tight abs and torso. His skin had a warm glow to it and he had a strong jawline and a full beard.

His hair was styled with natural waves but they covered a tattoo on the side of his forehead.

Milomir. He was the Pakhan of the Bratva. They nicknamed him Death because in every home he visited, death ensued. He built wealth and power by spilling a lot of blood and instilling fear in people.

"Please…I have savings and—"

He cut me off by laughing. Something told me he didn't find anything funny.

"I don't want your savings, little girl. I want to kill your father. The question is, what are you willing to do to save your father from death?"

(Pakhan – The Mafia leader of the Russian Mafia)