Chapter 1 1.

When I was younger, I always saw my older brothers coming home late at night with cuts and bruises across their faces. Of course, newly adopted 10 year old me was unaware of my new adoptive family's relation to the Russian mafia but now I know firsthand that organised fights are a common stress reliever in the underground world.

I remember wanting to be just like them, I mean a split lip and a black eye are kinda badass, no?

I would beg them to teach me to fight, wanting to be tough like my older brothers, and they were more than willing. This resulted in long nights in our training rooms, learning to throw punches and kicks, which lets be real just ended up being them tackling and roughhousing me.

My brothers were very enthusiastic to teach me though, it's something we came to bond and connect over, as well as ultimately the correct way to be bringing me up properly in a mafia household.

Though they taught me to fight from an early age, they always reassured me no one would ever lay a hand on their little sisterwhilst they were still alive.

Never would I have thought my first black eye would be by the hands of my boyfriend.

"You never fucking listen Carlotta!" Emiliano yelled, towering over my shaking form. The impact from his fist to the side of my head made his figure look slightly blurred, a slight ringing sound piercing through my ears.

This fucker did not just hit me.

Pushing myself back to my feet I did my best attempt to look down on him, despite our obvious height difference. "Did you seriously just backhand me?" I chuckled, wiping a thumb across my bloody lip.

"You need to learn your place, Carlotta. You belong with me, to me, I don't want you anywhere near him! You know how he feels about you!" Emiliano retorted, slowly backing me up towards the wall behind me.

"He's my lab partner, Emiliano! We were working on our project, do you seriously think I'm capable of cheating?" I asked, slightly hurt by his implication.

"You were at his house." He seethed leaning down to my face, effectively caging me into the wall with both his hands resting by my head.

"Do you not trust me? I'm your girlfriend, Emiliano. After all the fights I got into with my brothers about dating you, you now question my loyalty?" I respond incredulously, staring into his golden eyes that are swimming with rage.

Rage? Pfft, more like raging toxic masculinity.

He leaned impossibly closer, our noses barely touching, "How am I supposed to trust you when you're whoring around with other boys, hm?"

The shock must've been clear on my face as a glimmer of guilt washed over Emiliano's features, but was just as quickly replaced with his regular glare. Shaking my head slightly, I let out a humorous laugh. This was so unlike Emiliano, he's only ever been loving and caring towards me.

Yes, the boy I was partnered with for our biology project was a notorious flirt, but I would never be unfaithful to my boyfriend, it's possibly one of the worst things you could do.

Emiliano and I met when I was 16 and he was 18 in his last year of high school. My brothers and I were at a race competing against some usual competitors, though Emiliano was a new rival on the racing scene. As my third oldest brother Maxim and I crossed the finish line winning the race, Emiliano's car pulled up next to us, securing his second place victory.

My fourth oldest brother, Levi, ran over to our car screaming his head off and sputtering about all the "fucking sick drifts you did bro!" Such a dork.

As Maxim and Levi did the bro hug-handshake thing that all guys seem to universally know, I looked over to assess the not-so competition Maxim had just beat.

The door to the midnight blue Lamborghini Huracan swung open, and out stepped Emiliano. A 6 foot 3 wall of pure muscle and tattoos. His light brown hair was disheveled and hanging over his forehead and distinctly amber-golden eyes. He wore simple grey sweatpants and black hoodie, looking god-like in the informal attire. The sleeves to his hoodie were pushed up to his elbows, revealing the simple tattoos scattered up both his forearms.

I was openly, and unashamedly, checking him out. That was until he caught my eye looking me up and down and smirking in my direction, turning my cheeks a slight shade pinker. I looked away quickly and back towards my brothers who were thankfully still engrossed in their conversation about the race.

What am I doing? I never blush.

Mentally hyping myself back up again, I confidently turned back to Emiliano and returned his smirk, making his expression falter for a second with what looked like shock at my return of confidence, before he grinned back at me.

Emiliano showed up to the next couple of races, his eyes always seeking mine, until one night he came to talk to me and my brothers. From then on, we saw a lot more of each other in the underground world. There was always a flirtatious relationship between us, one that didn't go unnoticed by my brothers or father resulting in several late night yelling matches about my rights to a relationship.

Being the alpha male mafia bosses they are, they were all "No way in hell are you ever dating anyone" "I'm not letting my princess date some guy!" "You're not getting a boyfriend or girlfriend til you're 90!"

Classic mafia family.

After months of secretly seeing one another, Emiliano and I decided to bite the bullet and tell my brothers and father we were in a relationship. To say it didn't go well was an understatement.

It took 2 months before they'd 'made peace with the idea', which in their books meant not throttle him on sight every time they saw him. Don't get me wrong, to this day they are not okay with us being in a relationship, but fuck that I'm a grown ass woman. If I want to be in a relationship, I'm gonna be in a fucking relationship.

Fuck, my brothers are gonna actually kill Emiliano once they see what he's done to me tonight...

Eh, I'll help 'em hide the body.

"Fuck you Emiliano." I shoved at his chest and attempted to remove myself from the cage his arms had secured around me.

Emiliano however had different plans as I was halfway out of his reach when he grabbed me by the throat and shoved me back against the wall, choking me.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going, huh?" He growled, "You're my girlfriend, you can't just walk away from me."

The viscous words he was spitting sounded foreign coming out of his otherwise gentle mouth. His shift in attitude was completely out of character.

"Not anymore asshole." I coughed out before I brought my knee up and kneed him in the dick. He collapsed forward, grabbing his now probably bent dick as I slipped free of his hold, gasping air down my lungs greedily.

Tears were brimming my eyes as I took in the reality of my situation, as well as from the pain I felt around my neck and face.

Shit, there will definitely be bruises.

I grabbed my purse and walked out of his apartment, taking the elevator down to the parking level to get in my car.

As the agonizingly long elevator ride began its descent down, a sob escaped my sore throat. Looking at my battered reflection in the elevator mirror, I began to cry feeling the emotions of a year long relationship coming to a brutal close.

My cheeks were tear-stained with mascara tracks running down my face. My lip was busted and blood was drying around my chin and mouth. My left eye was beginning to swell and turn a darker shade of purple. Large bruised handprints were forming around my neck, leaving behind only the phantom touch of Emilianos violent hands around my neck.

As the elevator dinged, snapping me out of my trance, I took in a deep breath and carefully wiped my eyes.

He's not worth crying over.

As confidently as I could, I strutted over to my car, the weight of a toxic relationship dissipating from my shoulders. I hope they never have to feel this heavy again.

Unlocking and getting into my car, I sit behind the wheel for a few minutes composing myself. I only had home to go back to now that I wasn't staying over with Emiliano.

I glanced at the clock on my dashboard, 11:47pm. My brothers and father might still be out at work or the underground. They won't be expecting me home so I can try to sneak up to my room and cover up any evidence of my bruises when I wake up tomorrow.

Yes ok, that could work.

Putting my car in drive, I begin to drive out of Emilianos apartment complex once and for all, biting back the painful memories of our endless nights spent together here.

The roads were glistening and reflective with the light pitter-patter of rain splattering on my windshield. The rain relaxes me in ways other things can't.

10 minutes later, I'm pulling up to the front gates of the Vasiliev mansion, smiling warmly at the guards stationed outside. I'd always been fond of them, bringing them cookies and drawings I'd made when I was younger. They'd also developed a small soft spot for me over the years.

"Ms. Vasiliev," Ivan and Dimitry greeted, "how are you tonight darling?"

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Carlotta," I playfully scolded, "and I'm well, thank you." I smiled at their concern.

The night was dark, shielding my face slightly from the view of the two guards. As they opened the gate, I managed to slip away with my bruises going unnoticed.

I parked my car in the unnecessarily large garage filled with 5 cars too many, and mentally prepared myself for my mission impossible trek to my room.

I creeped over to the door connecting from the garage to the main house and carefully turned the handle, slowly pushing the door open.

Just my luck, of course it made a painstakingly high squeak as it opened wider and wider. I grimaced at the sound, thinking how cliche this was to happen.

As soon as the door was wide enough for me to slip through, I quietly closed the door again with my back facing the kitchen and forehead resting against the garage door once it was finally closed.

I let out a breath I was holding in, before removing my forehead from the cold door and turned around.

"Carlotta." A deep voice called from behind me, making me jump mid turn and whip my head towards the source of the voice.

There sitting by the kitchen island with his laptop stationed in front and him and what looked to be whiskey in his right hand was Milan, my second oldest brother.

"The guards told me they let you in, what are you-" Milan began, his eyes still trained on whatever was on his laptop until he finally raised his eyes to see my sheepish expression, as well as the multiple bruises and hand marks around my neck.

Well, fuck.