The Don’s Doorstep Baby

Katerina

Ten Years Ago

Three things I hate about myself. My inability to connect with people my age. My inability to turn off my brain. And my inability to arrive to places on time.

Basically, I'm an antisocial over thinker who also has trouble with time management. Although my sister does like to say I'm not antisocial, just a girl with a resting bitch face that tends to drive people away before they can even get to know me.

I've never understood that, I think I'm a perfectly nice, approachable person. Anyway, my issue with time management is the reason I'm practically running as I head for the library in the middle of campus where a meeting is currently taking place. A meeting I should have arrived for, five minutes ago. I'm crossing the lawn in the Yard when someone bumps into my shoulder effectively knocking away all the books in my hands. "Watch where you're going!" I snap, glaring at the girl. Her eyes widen and she stammers out an apology before rushing off, without bothering to help me pick up the books. Maybe I do have a resting bitch face. I run my hand through my hair in frustration, before getting on my knees to pick up the books. There are four of them and the only reason I'm carrying so many is because I'm meant to return them to the library.

"Damn," someone chuckles, bending to help to pack my books. "You looked like you were about to kill her." I look up and staring at me are the most piercing green eyes I've ever seen. Eyes that draw you in with their intensity. My mouth dries for a second as I stare dumbfounded. Thank fully, it only takes a second for me to recover. I grab the last of my book off the ground, getting back to my feet. He stands as well, holding onto the textbook in his hand. "I wouldn't have killed her.

Committing murder in the middle of campus wouldn't be tasteful." He grins. "A pretty girl that can make jokes about murder. You don't see that every day." It's cute that he thought I was joking. I can't help but consider his good looks again. His dark hair falls in messy waves, giving him that sexy just rolled out of bed look. He's also tall with an athletic figure and lean muscles. In the back of my mind, I'm thinking that he's exactly my type but I don't have time for this. I'm already ten minutes late for the group meeting I was meant to be at. "Okay, well I have to go, so you won't be seeing me again. Can I have my book back?" I ask stretching my hand. He holds it out of reach. "Relax, princess. Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I have a meeting in Widener," I say glaring at him. "And I'm late." "Exactly. You're already late, might as well chill." I take in a deep soothing breath, searching for inner patience. "What do you want?" I question.

He pretends to ponder it for a second. "You're in my Computer class. I saw you a couple of days ago." "And?" "And I'm wondering why a freshman is taking that course. And also apparently, already studying criminal law," he says waving my textbook in my face. "I like to stay ahead and it's none of your business," I snap, trying to grab my book from his hand. He relinquishes it with a small smile. "Alright fine. My approach could use some work. Since you're in a hurry, I'll just rip the band aid off. I'm here because I want to ask you out," he says bluntly. I'm slightly taken aback. Where was the preamble?

The build up? Who just asks a stranger out? "Ask me out," I repeat blandly. "Yeah," he says on a shrug. "For some reason, I'm feeling some chemistry between us princess. I want to see where it goes. So, what do you say?" he asks with a smile. His smiles are a little unnerving. Plus there's a hint of mystery in his gaze and a mischievous spark that guarantees trouble. I decide it would do me well to stay away. "Is this some kind of dare?" I ask still a little confused. He shakes his head. "Nope. I'm here of my own free will." "Okay… I'm not interested and you look like every typical frat boy, not my type," I'm totally lying but he doesn't need to know that. "No offense," I add. His eyes narrow. "Saying no offense doesn't mean I'm not going to take offense, beautiful. Come on, you don't even know me. Take a chance, think about it. You and me, a date. Anywhere you want. Do you like sushi?"

I groan softly, looking up at the sky and cursing my luck. Then I'm looking back at him. "Alright fine, I've thought about it," I say. He perks up, looking expectant. "After much consideration, I'm going to have to decline. Sorry." His face falls. I get the feeling he's not used to being rejected. And I get it. I'm sure he doesn't get rejected often with a face like that. But sometimes you need to do God's work and keep guys like him humble. I push past him, going on my way. Of course he follows me. "You're like a lost puppy," I mutter. "You realize that."

"Oh chill out, princess. I'm not following you, our desti nations just align." "Yeah, right," I say sarcastically. We continue walking. Him a couple paces behind me. A minute or two later and I suddenly can't hear his footsteps anymore. I turn around and realize he's turned a corner. I watch his back as he walks away, surprised he actually gave up that easily. Just when I'm about to move along, he suddenly turns, walking back towards me with a grin. I arch an eyebrow as he stops in front of me. "So, how did that feel?" I shake my head in confusion, "What?" "Me leaving. Let me guess, you got this sinking feeling in your gut. You were probably thinking it was a mistake to turn me down. Listen to those thoughts, beautiful and just go on one date with me." Despite myself, I laugh. "Yeah, I definitely wasn't thinking any of those. If I'm being honest, I was just glad you were leaving." "Then why were you staring at me for so long as I walked away?"

My mouth falls open. "I wasn't staring." "You were. For about twenty seconds. I counted. If you turned around and left after ten seconds, I would have given up and accepted you weren't interested. But you didn't. You waited, meaning you are interested," he says, green eyes gleaming. My head tilts to the sight as I look up at him. "You're not very good at taking no for an answer, are you?" He shakes his head. "Nope. Unfortunately it's a product of my upbringing. I can tell you all about it if you go out with me." I sigh softly. "Fine. I'll go on one date, just to get you to back off." "How enthusiastic," he says, with a small wink. I roll my eyes. Why do I have a feeling I'm going to regret this? He brings out his phone and hands it to me.

"I'm going to need your number so I can text you." I grudgingly input my number and he places his phone back in his pocket. "Just one slight thing and I feel the need to apologize about it," he tells me. "What?" I question curiously. "I'm notoriously famous on campus. Girls who go out with me tend to become crazy obsessed with me. It's an unfortunate consequence of my charms. I'd hate for you to turn out like them, but it might be inevitable." "Don't worry, I'm sure I'll be fine," I say drily. He chuckles, "Alright. I'll see you later…" he trails off, leaving me to fill in the blank. "Katerina," I supply. "Katerina," he repeats with a smile. "I'm Xander."

"I would say nice to meet you Xander but it's really not, considering your pestering has made me late for a meeting." "Eh, you were already late anyway. I'll see you later for our date." He starts to walk away after one last bright smile. "I hate sushi by the way," I yell at his back. He waves at me over his shoulder, "Noted, princess." As soon as he's gone, I'm rushing for the library where the meeting is already underway. Thankfully, no one pays me any attention as I slide into a seat at the edge of the table. I always hated group assignments in high school. Mostly because owing to the fact that I had no friends, I was always paired up with idiots and then I always ended up having to do most of the work on my own. Harvard's different though. Everyone here seems driven, intent on finishing their tasks and moving on to the next. By the end of the meeting, our work has been evenly shared. No one stops to make small talk, there are no pleasantries. They're all intent on minding their own business, which suits me perfectly. I head for the front desk once the meeting disperses, placing the books I borrowed. The librarian arches an eyebrow when I hand her a list of books I'd like to borrow next. Which if I'm being honest, might be weird. Not a lot of freshmen are reading about criminal litigation. But I like to read. It's literally the only thing I've got going on in my life. My sister calls a few hours later while I'm in my dorm room. I'm surprised it took her so long. I've only been at college for a month but I swear Sophia has called me every day since. She's definitely having separation anxiety and I can't exactly blame her since I'm feeling it too. This is the most time we've been apart since we were kids. "Hey, sorella," she greets, calling me sister in Italian. We're mixed race. Born and raised in America. But our dad's a second generation Italian. His family moved to the U.S when he was just a boy. By the time he became a teenager, he left, trying to crawl his way up to the top, doing anything to survive. He always likes to remind myself and my sister that he built a name for himself out of ashes. Our mother was Russian. Born and raised in Moscow. She was her family's second daughter. A complete Russian woman but one that like to defy traditions and propriety on occasion. It's how she was able to marry my father and live her home country, which was extremely brave of her. She passed away a long time ago.

"Hey, how was school?" I ask, lying on my bed. "It was alright. Nothing interesting. I'm heading out to a party in a couple of minutes," she informs me. My little sister's a social butterfly. Where I'm woefully inadept with social interactions, she thrives. I hate crowds, she likes being the center of attention. She's always trying to get me to live a little. The room is blessedly quiet. My roommate is almost never around which is one of the things that makes living in a dorm bearable. Papa offered to get me somewhere off campus so I'd be more comfortable but I wanted to at least try. The one thing I promised myself when coming here was that I'd do my best to have a semi-normal college experience. Although I seem to be failing woefully, something that Sophia will undoubtedly be pointing out soon. "That's nice, Soph," I tell her.

"Please tell me you're not in your room alone, on a Friday night." "Alright I won't." She groans softly. "Kat, we talked about it. You're supposed to branch out in college. Meet new people, make some friends." "But why is that necessary?" I retort. "Most people would run for the hills if they knew I keep a revolver under my pillow to sleep. It just seems futile starting relationships that will inevitably end once they get to know the real me." My sister and I haven't had the most conventional upbringings. Quite the opposite, considering our father's one of the top mafia Don's in the New York, Cosa Nostra. Still, we've gone through great pains to hide who we really are. Our identities are secret. Which means whoever we meet, any relationships we begin are always tainted with a cloud of untruth, and we can never be a hundred percent ourselves with anyone. Sophia seems okay with it. She's managed to find a balance and some kind of peace with entering meaningless relationships that will eventually end.

She's great at putting herself out there. I'm not. It's kind of embarrassing. Because I'm meant to be the big sister. I can be brave when it comes to anything else. Shooting people, fighting, I'm good at those. Anything I'm not good at, I work hard to be. But when it comes to people, there will always be this gap that I can't seem to cross. "At least tell me you've done something interesting since arriving at Harvard?" Sophia questions, exasperation in her tone. "I joined a robotics club." "What do you even know about robotics?" "Nothing, which is exactly why I joined. I want to learn."

"You know you don't have to know everything right?" "Sure, but I do have to be the best." Sophia sighs softly. "So you haven't made any friends, you've been attending a shit ton of classes and you've joined one club. That's it?" "Well…" I trail off, wondering if I should share this tidbit of information. "What? What is it?" "There's this one guy that did ask for my number?" "Let me guess, you shut him down hard, glared at him. Or maybe you made him cry?" she laughs. I smile. "I did that one time. And no, none of the above. I actually did give him my number." "Are you serious? Oh my God, how did he achieve that?"

"He was annoyingly persistent," I mutter. "And really good looking." Sophia giggles. "Oh my God, yes! This is what I needed to hear. You need to go out with him. Please tell me you're going out with him." I roll my eyes at her excitement. "He technically did ask me out on a date. But he hasn't texted so maybe he's no longer interested," I shrug. "If he doesn't get back to you, you have my permission to shoot him," she says. "I'm not going to shoot anyone on campus. Papa made me promise that I wouldn't make him clean up any murders in college." I'm only half joking. Obviously I'm not some psycho pathic bitch who goes around shooting people. But my father really did make me promise not to be involved in any murders. My move to Boston was allowed only on the condi tion that I remained low key throughout my entire stay. When I'm here, I'm not a mafia princess. I'm just Katerina.

The problem is, Katerina doesn't know how to be herself outside of the mafia world. It's been hitting me that I have no identity apart from my family. "Fine, don't murder him. But a swift kick in the balls the next time you see him?" "I'll put it under advisement," I tell her. She's telling me about a fight that broke out at her school when my phone pings with a text. I lift it from my ear and it's an unknown number. But the contents make it pretty clear who it is. Hey beautiful. You like bowling? You, me, tomorrow afternoon? "Sophia, it turns out might not need to murder him after all," I inform my sister. After replying Xander's text and agreeing to the date, I spend the rest of the night wondering at my choices and plans for my future. I might not know who I am but I've always known who I wanted to be.

The problem with plans though, is that they have a way of getting derailed. In painful, unexpected ways. But before the derailment of my plans, I get the chance to fall in love.

And I also the get the chance to lose that love, leaving me more broken than I was before.