Four

Sofia – Age 17

I stand at the end of the pier in the Hamptons, looking out to the clear blue sea. I love it here; it's one of my favorite places.

I haven't been standing here long when I feel a presence behind me, and I know instantly that it's Damian without even turning. He's been my best friend since I was a scrawny 8-year-old girl. For the first five years of our friendship, we spent three nights a week and every Saturday together. I'd fall increasingly in love with him, but he never reciprocated the feelings. With him being four years older than me and only seeing me as a little sister, I knew it would never happen between us, given that he was way out of my league.

Four years later, our three nights a week have turned into five, but we don't spend Saturdays together anymore, much to my dismay. He's joined the family business, so it's no longer possible. Still, I spend Sunday evenings at his parents' house for dinner, so there's that.

I'm not stupid; I know my father and his as well. I know that Damien, Sergi, and Alexandr are not nice men; they're mafia and bratva, trained to hurt and kill. But I know they only dabble in guns, money laundering, and drugs, they don't do trafficking, dealing in human flesh like some mobs around New York.

The Irish were looking into it until their godfather got killed in a police raid, and Noah, his son, who also happens to be one of my best friends, took over and vetoed any trafficking. He's also engaged to my other best friend, Lilly, who has been my study partner since middle school and a pseudo-sister. It's how Noah met her, through me, and fell in love with her. He broke all the rules and decided she would be his queen, instead of marrying for an alliance.

Apparently, Noah's father wanted us to get married, because he was greedy, wanting both Mafia families. My father rejected the idea outright, because Noah was like a big brother to me, from the time I was twelve, when he saved me from being run over by one of my father's enemies. Because he saved me, my father decided we could be friends. He didn't really have a choice, though, because I was basically attached to him. Damian hated it. They both still scowl at each other to this day.

I know that our families are criminals doing criminal things, but it makes it better that they do not do human trafficking, plus, they've all treated me like I was precious all my life, while also teaching me self-defense. They're my family, and you can't choose your family, just love them unconditionally.

As I stand here staring out over the ocean, feeling Damian's presence behind me, I reminisce on all the times I had with my father before his trips home dwindled to practically nothing. I'm a daddy's girl at heart, and I used to be close to my mother, but as the years went on, from the time I turned eight and we met the Volkovs, she drank more, was clearly unhappy, and is always screaming at my father about stupid shit just to get his attention. But it never works; he just turns around and leaves to go to whatever woman he has on the side at the time, and the only reason I know this is because my mother would then take her anger out on me.

Mamma used to always refuse to give me full meals, ensuring I stuck to water and salad, waking me up at 4 AM every day to do two hours of hard cardio exercise to the point of exhaustion, and with my father gone more and more just to get away from her, he couldn't put a stop to it, and I couldn't tell him. I tried calling Damian once, but a woman answered, and I hung up, crying, when I realized the love of my life was with someone else. I never tried again.

I expected him to announce seeing someone, but he never did.

Up until last year, Mamma's anger was just words, mainly about my weight and how I wouldn't amount to anything, or how no man would ever want me. Then I turned sixteen, and my used-to-be chubby body that she never let me live down went curvy and natural, and I grew into my curves. I'm only 5’5”, so it took a while to grow into them. She still tries to force salads down my throat, but I eat out more with Damian, so now she's started lashing out with her fists, because she can no longer control what goes into my body. The first time she slapped me was because she found condoms in my father's pants pockets.

Rookie mistake, Daddy!

After she hit me, she cried and hugged me, apologizing over and over. Still, after a few months of the same routine and me trying to avoid her at all costs, she'll purposely find me and scream that it's all my fault, that my father strays because I'm a girl. He needs a boy to take over as Don after he retires…or gets killed—her words, not mine.

I haven't told anyone, because I'm supposed to be strong, but sometimes I don't want to be. Damian has his own life I don't want to interrupt, and my father is never home. I would tell Noah, but he'll probably start a war. So, I'm alone.

I miss my papa so much, but I'm beginning to resent him for what he's doing to me. I know he won't divorce my mother; not only is it something we don't believe in, but Mamma would also take him to the cleaners, since she has proof of his infidelities. It's why I'm here now, at my favorite place, two hours away from home, after running run past the guards and driving myself here like a NASCAR driver. None of the guards could keep up; I lost them on the highway, and my mother, well, she was drunk again and, apparently, it's my fault that my father has strayed to a 20-something-year-old woman who thinks she's pregnant. I told Mamma to just divorce him if she's so unhappy, but that earned me a bloody lip. She avoids the face normally, but today, she didn't.

She screamed, "I can't divorce him, he's all I have. I can't breathe without him, you stupid bitch."

At her admission, my heart actually broke, but before I could talk to her about it, she turned around and left with a defeated look on her face. As soon as she stumbled out of the room, she made a massive mistake. She told Mattia to do whatever he wanted to me without realizing what she was saying. She handed me to the beast, who smirked at me with an evil glint in his eyes. I shivered at the memory of it.

I tried to run, but he grabbed a hold of my hair and dragged me back. He pushed me onto the floor, then booted me in my already sore ribs. I wince when I breathe. I'm pretty sure he's cracked a rib again.

I try to take a deep breath without tweaking my bruised ribs, looking out to the sea, attempting to forget what he tried to do, but I can't. He ended up putting his hand between my legs, and he cupped my most private area.

My whole body went rigid when he started to rub, and whispered,"This is going to be mine. That Russian scum can thank me for breaking you in."

I didn't know what he meant about Damian because we're just friends. He doesn't see me that way, much to my dismay.

But like hell, was I letting Mattia take my virginity!

He placed his other hand on my breast and squeezed it hard. I shut my eyes tightly to stop the tears from forming, and took a deep breath.

I ended up crying out in pain before I finally fought back, and kneed him hard between his legs. I'll probably pay for it later, but I didn't care. I had to leave, so as soon as he flopped down beside me, groaning in pain, I got up, ran out the door, and sprinted toward my car. As I sped away, I was grateful for putting jeans on today.

Damian growls in my ear as he came up close behind me, pulling me out of my head.

"What are you doing here alone, printsessa? You know not to go anywhere without a guard. You've had everybody worried. If it wasn't for the fact that I know you so well, it could have started a war!"

I quickly wipe my eyes. He puts his hands on the railing on either side of me, and I hang my head, feeling guilty about worrying the families. He drops his arms and comes around to my side, putting two fingers under my chin like he does every time he wants to see my eyes. And when he sees my face, his eyes harden. His bright blue eyes, darkened in anger, are glaring at my split lip. The look in his eyes should terrify me, but I know he'll never hurt me.

"What the actual fuck, malyshka? Who the fuck busted your lip? I want a fucking name now," he growls lowly, sending shivers down my spine. I look him in the eye, and literally, all I want is for him to hold me and help me forget. He must see something in my eyes because the next thing I know, he engulfs me in his muscular arms, squeezing me tight. I whimper, which causes him to step back. His hand grips my t-shirt, and I try to stop him, but he manages to lift it up anyway. His jaw ticks when he sees the bruising.

"I fell down the stairs. You know how clumsy I am," I whisper, laying my head on his chest. I close my eyes, holding him tighter, trying not to cry.

You are strong. Don't cry, don't cry.

I repeat the words in my head as his arms come back around me. I relax as he strokes my hair, whispering, "Everything will be okay."

For the next two hours, while walking on the beach holding his hand, he tries to get me to tell him exactly how I fell down the stairs. But I keep telling him it doesn't matter anymore; it's done, and I'm clumsy. He's not happy, but he's willing to let it go for now. For me.

God, I love him.

As the sun sets, we sit on the beach, Damian behind me, his arms wrapped around me as I lean back against him. We’re getting sand all over his brand name jeans, but he doesn’t care.

He whispers in my ear, "I don't want to be friends anymore, Sofia. I've tried but can't anymore."

I can't breathe as my heart shatters into a million pieces. I go to move away from him, to scream at him, but he wraps his arms around me tight.

"I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember, even when I shouldn't have been because of our age. But you've always been mine, and I want to give us a shot. I can't live without you, malyshka."

And all I could do was freeze. Is he serious? After all this time, do I finally get my wish?

I turn around and look at him. His bright, blue eyes shine, staring at me with unconditional love. I leap into his arms. He catches me, holding me tight, and chuckles, kissing me on my forehead.

"I love you, too. I always have," I say to him, my eyes glistening and his softening.

He leans in, his mouth inches from mine, as he murmurs, "I wish I could kiss you, but I can't until you are eighteen. But know this: you are mine, and I love you so much."

I throw my arms around his neck again, and he holds me tight. Excitement fills my stomach. I am now suddenly looking forward to my 18th birthday in six months, and finally having my first kiss with my prince.

It is a shame I didn't listen to his declaration properly when he said I was his, though, because he never said he was mine. And I would come to learn of heartbreak and pain.