Contracted to the Icy Mafia King

LILIYA

Let me start by saying, this was not my idea.

I would rather be in my apartment now, under my duvet, stuffing my mouth with snacks and a handful of lollipops while watching a new series on my laptop to celebrate my graduation from college. But my non-identical twin sister, Inessa believed herself a 'social butterfly' and because of it, I'd been dragged out to party in a club with more drunk people than the number of Popes in the world.

The neon blue lights were the only breaks in the darkness and apparently, it was more than enough for the clubbers. I resisted the urge to shield my ears from the deafening offbeat music blaring from the speakers, as it was so not my scenerio. Still, I smiled at anyone who approached me, even if it didn't ease the discomfort I strongly felt.

"I'll be going to the washroom now, Liya. I won't be long, stay here and wait." Nessa spoke suddenly. I grabbed her wrist, causing her to whirl around fast.

"Please don't be long, Nessa. This place makes me really uncomfortable." I pleaded and she snatched her hand away from me, replying,

"You're twenty two and you just graduated college, that should tell you that you're a full adult now, more than ever. My advice? Act like it." Then she huffed and hurried off. I wasn't taken aback or anything. The fact that we were twins didn't mean we were friends. Just... acquaintances, if it could be termed so.

I looked around discreetly and straightened my back, because I could not risk anyone seeing me like this. Out of element. Weak. So, I continued sitting there like I wasn't about to faint from how claustrophobic I felt and to tone down the feeling, I took more and more shots until I needed to visit the washroom myself.

I wobbled in my heels and pulled my short, strapless bodycon dress down, even if the gesture did practically nothing. This was another thing I was against. Inessa refused my proposal of coming to the club in oversized shirts and trousers—my niche, since she wanted to match clothes, which was why she got matching dresses for us.

Now, I wished I'd just stood my ground because I truly hated the unnecessary attention the stupid dress awarded to my unflattering hip dips. Yeah, from the front, I looked like a cute little P, when it was the last thing I was. I despised it. The bartender asked if I was fine and I just waved it off, going towards the bathroom.

I walked briskly along the hallway, absolutely abhorring how the click of my heels earned me more stares than I wanted to myself. But I didn't lower my head, no matter how uncomfortable I felt, because I was not taught to cower. It had little or nothing to do with how confident I was—no, it was more like a knee-jerk reaction of some sort. Being raised in a mafia home could do that to you. I was not as confident as I would've liked to be, but I knew how to look the part. I knew how to fake it.

The moment I was inside a washroom section, I felt like I was being watched. It was some kind of ability.. I could sense a presence before seeing it.

"Who's there?" I called out but was met with silence. When I asked again, the sound of two people making out answered me. I hurriedly got on with what I came there for, embarrassed on their behalf.

After my business, I was about to head back to the main hall, where the party was still in full swing, when my eyes lurched on something. I crossed to the other side of the hallway before I bent slowly and picked it up—Henri's brooch. What was my fiancee's brooch doing in a club when he told me he didn't have time to come with me? How I knew it was his? I have it to him myself on his last birthday and the brooch even had his initials on it, which I'd written myself.

I looked up even slower and my eyes landed on the door directly in front of my face. I placed the side of my head against the door and heard nothing. So, either the door was soundproof or there was really no one inside. I shook my head as if it would rid my brain of the kind of intrusive thoughts going through it and turned, starting to head back to the party.

Five steps after, I turned back and began to move towards the door again. I twisted the knob and tried to push it open, but it was locked. Great, so no one was in there all along. Just me and my stupid imaginations. A pang of guilt clawed at my chest when I realized what I thought Henri was doing. I closed my eyes and exhaled a breath, beginning to walk away.

"Who the hell is it?" I heard Nessa's voice at the same time I heard the door being pulled open.

"Nessa?" I barely whispered when I turned to her, like I couldn't believe it. Maybe because the last place I thought I'd find my sister was in a room, only covered in a flimsy towel. But maybe I was only hallucinating. After all, I was half-drunk and also without my glasses. I pinched myself, but she was still there. She scowled at me and I walked towards her, not caring that I saw two of her for a while. She looked back for a second, but didn't stop me from walking to her, almost tripping over my heels in the process.

Henri's brooch which I saw kept forcing images into my head... I needed to see who was in here with her. I craned my neck to look inside the room. Sure enough, a male figure was sprawled on the bed and I squinted my eyes because the lights in the room was turned off, but I still saw nothing tangible. Nothing familiar. I moved back and my shoulders slouched. Henri was not here. 'I should stop doubting him now, I really should.' I thought guiltily.

I looked into the room again, one last time, and was just in time to see the male place his phone close to his lips and speak into it,

"Hey, sweets. Got a call from work, had to head home to finish up something. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you but I promise I'll make it up to you. Oh, and happy graduation, sweets."

Sure enough, after he brought his phone down, my phone beeped but I didn't regard it, instead I glared at the liar in the dark room with so much anger swirling in my eyes. My body shook all over and my chest squeezed so hard that I thought I would die on the spot because of how much it hurt. By now, all the effects of the excess alcohol had wiped from my system. I squeezed my palm into a fist and the pain of my fingers digging into my flesh confirmed that I was not dreaming.

Don't cry, don't cry. I chanted in my head.

Nessa rolled her eyes at my reaction and spoke, "So, he cheated. Break up with him and get out. We were just preparing for round two." She smirked.

Don't cry, Don't cry.

"Sweets." Henri's voice came, barely a whisper. I reminded myself not to cry once more as I walked inside, dragging my sister with me. I was shaking as I walked, and it was not as a result of how chilly the room was. On getting to the bed, I pushed Nessa onto Henri's sweaty body and ignored the spurt of cum on his chest as I took two pictures.

"What are you doing?!" Nessa cried out. There was pain in my smirk when I replied,

"Showing the world that you aren't Papa's perfect daughter, after all."

"Sweets, please don't do this. Let's talk about this. I love you, and I'm going to marry you. This was a mistake." Henri pleaded, still sitting on the bed with his fingers scratching his beard; something he did when he was frustrated. I turned to glare daggers at him.

"My name is Liliya. Anything else from you and I swear to God, you'll be getting your dick cut off." I assured him. Nessa was next to speak,

"Liya, dad cannot afford a scandal right now and you know it." She reasoned, getting off Henri and tightening her towel. It was true. Papa was running for an election for the position of a mayor back in Russia. His standing was good, but any slight mistake could throw him off pedal. We both knew that.

"Did you care about that when you slept with him?" I almost barked at her. She rolled her eyes.

"Okay, you can be with him. I'll just make do with one round. It's not like he's infected or anything, I just wanted a taste." Nessa told me with a nonchalant shrug. I wanted to slap her so bad, but then Henri would thrive on that. He'd think I was fighting for him, and I'd never fight for a man.

Never again.

"We're over." I announced with an indifference I did not feel and started to pull his engagement ring off my finger. We all stood awkwardly as I struggled with the undersize band—something I'd decided to overlook because of my feelings for him. I'd made excuses for him when he couldn't get my ring size right; even when Nessa had mocked me for it.

The ring finally came off after a full minute of pulling and I chucked it at him, then walked away from the scene, but he did not go after me. That was what caused the first tear to slip and then another, until I wiped them away furiously. What was the fun in crying when I could do something even more entertaining?

‘Brace yourselves, tonight's the devil's night.’