Novel & Cerita Papa Kok

The drive back to his house was short, the air was still, the street was empty, like the world was ending. In papa's sitting room, he made tea and made me drink. It hadn't been more than five minutes since we returned when a knock came on the door. “Papa?” I recognized that angry voice. “Cohen’s mother.” Papa dropped his mug gently on the table, and reached for the door. He opened it slightly, his back blocking my own view of her. “The police informed me. You got that guy out?” She scoffed. “Yes, I did,” Papa replied in a calm tone.

Alexei Volkov remained as lethal and heartless as he was just few days prior, a chilling presence that reverberated deep within my bones. I swallow hard, fighting the urge to look away like a coward. Once again, his presence made me feel alternately hot and cold. Papa's throat emitted a soft clearing note, drawing my gaze towards him like a beguiling escape from the captivating pull of Alexei's mysterious, bewitching eyes. “Rara,” Papa said gravely. “You’ve met Antonio Romano and his son, Stefan.” Years of politeness training propel my response. “Yes, of course. Hello again. It’s nice to see you both.”