Chapter 22 Share Whisky With Mafia Don
“Of course you do. She’s your mother,” Roman states firmly.
I look him in the eye, and he really is sincere. It makes me nervous. I raise my glass to him.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Poor little Elena, she has mommy issues,” I shake my head. “Pathetic. I mean, there’s probably something wrong with me. Tony lost his mom, too, and he’s fine. He walks around in this world without a care in the world.”
“Your brother fights his battles in secret. I never thought of that, Elena.”
I smile.
“You called me Elena. I get nervous when you do that. I get the feeling you’re up to something nefarious.”
“I promise I won’t kill you,” he says with a smile.
I scoff.
“You’ll never kill me. But you could do a lot worse.”
His brow furrows in confusion, and I want to reach out and smooth his forehead. I’m having one of those moments again. The moments that seem to go on forever with someone I’m supposed to hate, but really don’t.
I stand up and drop my glass on the counter.
“I should probably go.”
Roman’s eyes narrow.
“It’s ten o’clock. Just stay.”
“I was going to stay with Rosa, but she asked me to leave her alone. Your mom’s with her anyway. I’m just going home instead.”
“Where’s Carlos?”
“He drove my father home earlier. It's okay. I can get a cab,” I tell him.
“No, you won't do that.”
The words seem like an order. It's annoying. I open my mouth to protest, but he gets to his feet.
“Come on, I'll drive you home.”
My mouth falls open.
“You don't need this.”
“I'm going to,” he says firmly, looking me in the eyes.
My heart starts beating faster. Bloody hell.
“But aren’t you afraid that you’ll burn out if you spend too much time with me in a confined space?”
Roman looks at me like I’m crazy. He wants to take me home, and I’m crazy.
“Come on, wolf cub.”
“This won’t end well,” I mutter under my breath.
I shouldn’t do this. But my legs practically move on their own as I follow Roman.
Roman.
Legan’s house is a twenty-minute drive from mine. Neither Elena nor I says a word for the first five minutes of the drive. But not hearing her voice feels weird, so I want to talk.
“It’s eerie, it’s awful. What are you thinking about?”
I look at her, and her eyes are fixed on the road. She sits like a ramrod, her shoulders tense.
“What do you think I’ll do to you?” I ask, amused.
She shrugs.
“Nothing. But have you ever thought about what I might do to you?” she counters with a mischievous smile.
“Probably not very much,” I answer. “You’re a terrible shot, you’re terrible in combat, and you’re tiny.” I could break you so easily.
I feel her gaze on my face.
“Don't underestimate me, Roman. I'm much stronger than you think.”
“I know you’re strong. I’ve never doubted it. There are just different shades of strength.”
“Hm,” she mutters. “How many people have you killed?”
I’ve known Elena Legan for over ten years. That’s why I’m not at all surprised by the sudden change in conversation. Her mind works mysteriously. And it always works. She never switches off. That’s why she’s so good at math and numbers.
In short, I wonder why I know so much about a girl I supposedly don’t give a damn about. But that’s a lie that worked when I was a kid. The truth is, she’s an important part of my life that I can’t get rid of.
“Roman,” she prompts.
I mentally count how many times I’ve taken a life.
“Fifteen,” I say.
She doesn’t look shocked, and I’m glad for that. She takes the information in stride, and when I look at her, her expression becomes thoughtful.
“What? You thought it would be higher?”
“To be honest, yeah, but that’s still… so many people,” she says, shrugging. “Can I ask a nagging question?”
“I have a feeling you're going to ask me anyway. Go ahead.”
“How do you justify it? Killing and all the killing.”
I pause to consider her question for a moment.
“I don't think there's any justification for it. But the important thing is that I don't kill for the sheer pleasure of it. It's a business. I kill for my family, for honor. The world is hard enough already. Everyone does what they can to survive.
Killing or being killed isn't just the rules of the jungle; ruthlessness is necessary for survival. I kill people who stand in the way of my goals, of reaching the top, and I refuse to regret it. Because I'm doing this for my family.”
"One more question," Elena states.
I glance at her.
"What? This is probably the first time you've ever been honest with me. I plan to take advantage of it."
"Okay, okay. But it's not fair that you get to ask all the questions."
She exhales.
"Okay, ask your questions. We might as well play truth or dare."
I smirk, thinking of a question for her.
"Our senior high school class, Tony, snuck out of the house and didn't tell us where he was. You covered for him that night. Where did he go?"
Elena laughs.
“Wait, you can literally ask me anything, and that’s what you’re interested in?”
I shrug.
“He’s always been annoyingly tight-lipped about his whereabouts that night. The guy tells me everything, but when it comes down to it, he doesn’t talk.”
“That’s because he broke your precious bro code. He was with a girl you were about to leave. Kimberly, I think,” Elena informs me.
I roll my eyes.
“Of course he was.”
“My brother is a known man-slut. That really shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
“It’s not. But I really liked that girl.” I guess it makes sense to keep it a secret now.
“Did you ever really like someone?” Elena asks, surprise coloring her tone. “Sorry, I just can’t picture you with real human feelings.”
“They come and go,” I say dryly.
“Anyway, it’s my turn now. Truth or dare,” she prompts.
“We’re not playing that teenage game. I’m an adult, dammit.”
“We’ve already started playing. Now go ahead and choose.”
“Okay, truth,” I say through clenched teeth.
She pouts.