Chapter 8

ANASTASIA'S POV

“No! No! I don't have my permit, okay?"

He nods firmly. “Yes. The Sokolov were very smart making that system. It keeps psycho's like you in check."

I narrow my eyes. “Are you sure you love me?”

“Of course. You've always been an adorable psycho. Let's get the photo album. It's been weeks since we went through it."

I cringe and groan. Not the photo album. It's just full of baby pictures of me. With onesies, kitten ears, frilly dresses, and guns. It's like...someone puked pink on a page and then glued me under it.

My dad might be gay.

“Aw, look at her little tutu!”

I smack my forehead. “Dad! Stop it with the weakness!"

“Oh isn't she adorable!”

Someone kill me. Please.

I sit down with my dad. He stoically sips hot chocolate. I eye the chancla in the corner. I wouldn't put it past him.

He's loving—but I didn’t thrive and steal and technically kill without my permit by accident.

“You are a natural born leader,” he starts.

Oh no. Not this again.

“I want you to rule the gang. But you are too—”

“Reckless,” I finish for him, rolling my eyes.

“I know. You always say I'm reckless, Dad, but I'm not. Okay? I thought it through—”

“

Anastasia, dochka.” He sighs. “Where did you get the car?”

“You have surveillance on me?”

“The Buick. Where did you get it?”

“I bought it.”

“Do not lie to me!” he shouts.

I sigh.

“Someone gave it to me. A guy. I'm not giving you details. You're not gonna like it. You can't do anything about it.”

He grits his teeth. “You had it checked?”

I nod.

He exhales slowly. “Anastasia... I know you want very much to succeed me. I want that too. But if you—”

I stop him, putting my hands over his. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, fine. I'll stay here. And I won't do anything criminal until I get my permit. But Dad… I'm a natural criminal. You said it yourself. And you want me to be me, don’t you?”

His eyes well with tears. I fight the urge to roll mine.

My lips quirk.

“Of course. You're adorable and I love you.”

I smile. I'm lucky. I got the most emotional gangster dad in existence. He doesn’t lie to me.

He told me when I was six that I was adopted, but he didn’t care. He said, and I’ll never forget it:

If you ever feel like you don’t belong here, remember that your biological parents couldn’t choose you. You just came about. But I chose you. I want you here. I want you to be my daughter. And that will never change.

“I love you too, Dad.”

He sniffles and starts sobbing.

A kingpin. Ugly crying. Despicable.

But he’s my dad.

After he finally calms down, I head out. I should probably tell Darya about… everything. Dad will ask her, and she can’t lie on the spot.

Before I was born, there was a war. Dad tells the story all the time. The Capo of the Sokolov Family declared war on an entire state because his wife went missing.

He targeted organized crime. The police condoned it.

It lasted weeks.

Seventy percent of our men died.

Dad hates the Sokolovs. Personally? I don’t hold grudges I didn’t live through.

I thought it was… romantic.

A man who burns the world for the woman he loves.

One day, I hope someone loves me like that.

I look up at my building, resigned. Until I get my permit, I promised.

“So…”

I jump, whipping around.

“A whole two chapters without me?” Nikolai says mildly. “I’m offended.”

I scowl. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, studying me. “Were you going to stop by?”

“No. Why would I?”

He moves closer.

“I have to go.”

“Are you avoiding me?” he asks softly.

“Trying to.”

He laughs. “Why?”

“Because you’re a mobster. A criminal.”

He laughs again and yanks me into him.

“A criminal?” he murmurs. “Funny. Coming from you.”

I swallow. “What did you do to Andrei?”

His amusement fades.

“What happened to him?” I press.

His fingers lift my chin, forcing my eyes to his.

“He insulted you,” Nikolai says simply.

My stomach twists.

“He called you a whore. In my house. In my presence.” His voice drops. “I warned him.”

I don’t interrupt.

“He didn’t stop.”

I barely breathe.

“So I killed him,” he continues calmly. “Slowly. Because I wanted him to understand why.”

My heart pounds.

“No one insults what’s mine,” he adds. “Not him. Not anyone.”

His eyes harden. “Not even your father.”

I look away. “That’s… excessive.”

He studies me. “Did you love him?”

The question catches me off guard.

“No,” I say flatly.

Something unreadable flashes across his face.

“You don’t look upset,” he says.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t.”

“You didn’t say you cared either.”

I shrug. “Did he suffer?”

A smile curves his mouth. “Very much.”

I nod thoughtfully. “Creative.”

“I thought so.”

“The poor guy,” I say dryly.

He scoffs. “Poor?”

Please. I loved the Buick more. Her name is Nancy.

I meet his gaze. “You’re horrible.”

“And you’re still standing here,” he replies.

Damn it.

“You’re a bad influence,” I mutter.

He leans closer. “You like bad.”

I hate that he’s right.