HER VENGEANCE, HIS OBSESSION
Mum asked softly.
“Finallyyyy I know yourrrr name. Okaaayyy, Zakhar… talk dirty to me.” Maya rumbled, testing out my name, rolling it off her tongue. Her Italian accent made my name sound like a dirty prayer coming out of her mouth, even when she's drunk.
Ilya snorted, quickly covering it with a cough when I glared at him.
“Who's thatttttt? I wanna seeeee!” Maya demanded.
“So, are we cutting the cake or not?” my youngest sister, Yulia, asked, eyeing the vanilla cake.