by Tia Siren
On their fourth night, after steamy sex, when they both lay panting and shining in the soft moonlight, Anthony looked over to her. “You’re still mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“You think I’m hiding you.”
“I don’t,” Aisha said, but that was a lie.
“I just… I didn’t want people to know… I thought that’s what you wanted. You’re good at your job, and you can make it on your own merits. That’s what I thought you wanted.”
“I do,” Aisha said, and then she sighed. “But I really like you. I don’t want to be your secret.”
Anthony smiled. “Then you won’t be.”
Aisha had something else weighing on her mind, and she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. “I’m pregnant,” she said.
Anthony looked at her for a long while, without speaking. When he did his voice was tight, and didn’t betray a single thought. “It’s mine?”
A fury rose up in Aisha. “Of course it is!” she snapped, and then she rose from the bed, still nude and sweaty.
“I’m sorry, I was just making sure!”
“How many women are you fucking besides me?”
“No one!” Anthony claimed, holding his hands up. “It came out wrong.”
“I’m going to go take a shower,” Aisha said, and she left the bedroom. That night it was awkward and tense, and neither she nor Anthony seemed keen on arguing further, so they stayed quiet. In the morning Aisha rose first, going downstairs and making coffee. She had just poured herself a big mug when there was a pounding on the cabin's door.
When she went to the door, she could see a woman standing there in a heavy coat and a fur hat. She looked familiar, and as Aisha pulled the door open, she realized it was the tall white woman who had stormed into Anthony’s office that first week.
“You slut!” the woman said as she came in, and her hand went across Aisha’s face in a stunning slap.
“Stop it, Kathleen,” a voice called, and both women turned to see Anthony coming down the stairs.
“Who is this bitch?” Aisha asked him, ready to fight.
“Bitch?” the white woman asked. “I’m his wife!”
“Hey now!” Anthony said, but Aisha had heard enough. It all made sense now, why he seemed as though he wanted to keep her his little secret. She made the two steps over to where Anthony stood, and the foot of the staircase, and splashed the hot coffee in his face. It wasn’t scalding, but she hoped it at least hurt. Without a word she turned and stormed outside.
There wasn’t anywhere to go but into town, and Aisha was lucky enough to have thought to grab her coat from the hook just inside the door. Her snowboots were on the porch, and she pulled them on, and she was down into the snow as the door opened behind her.
“We’re separated!” Anthony called after her, but Aisha raised a middle finger to him without looking back. She walked down into town, taking half an hour in the snow, tears sliding from her eyes and freezing on her cheeks the whole way. She didn’t know where to go, so she found Mary at the hotel and told the old woman what had happened.
“Did you know he was married?” Aisha asked the cook.
“Yes, but he’s been trying to divorce her for years. She won’t sign.”
That made Aisha feel a bit better, but she was still hurt and shocked that he hadn’t told her. And she was pregnant, with his child, and still no one knew about them, and the whole thing filled her with bitterness and sadness. Mary helped her get home, and she had quit and cleaned out her desk before Anthony got back.
He sent message after message to her, emails, phone calls, but she didn’t speak to him. She found a new job with a smaller firm and had settled in. Two weeks after she started Anthony came to see her.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him.
He just smiled, and then clapped his hands. A group of men came into the office, and they each had an instrument. They began to play a song, and Aisha recognized it as the first song they had ever danced to, laughing and drunk in her apartment one night. Tears stung her face.
“I love you,” Anthony said as he went to her. Everyone heard him. “I want to marry you, and I want to raise this baby together,” he added. He took her hands, and pulled her close, and they started to dance. “I’m working overtime to get my ex out of my life. She’s asking for too much, but you’re worth it. I’ll give it to her. The money, the cars, all of it, nothing matters. I want to be with you. Just you.”
Aisha could hardly speak, so she didn’t even try. She simply closed her eyes and laid her head on Anthony’s chest, and they danced slowly to the music while all of Aisha’s new co-workers looked on. She didn’t care if they saw her, and neither did Anthony.
*****
THE END
The Russian’s Secret Love Child – A BWWM Billionaire Romance
Flashback
“Papa, no more… please!” Anton pleaded as his father swung his leather belt against his soft young face.
“What did I tell you? Ha?” His father yelled, continuing whipping his delicate and frail body.
“I’m sorry. I’m not gonna do it again. Please, stop…..”
“No. You have to learn. And I’m gonna teach you how to discipline yourself….”
Neighbors were filled with terror as they heard him screaming for help. He was the only child, and since his mother died to Malaria, his father had never treated him as his own child. Alcohol became his best buddy.
Anton had not eaten yet since morning. How could he if no one brought him food to quench his hunger with? His father’s beating seemed to be his only meal of the day.
“Stop. Stop. Please, papa… Stop.” Those were the only words he could utter as the belt penetrated into his flesh, ripping the layers of his skin, exposing every tissue of his muscles.
“Your mother, whom you killed, didn’t tell you to steal! How could you disrespect her?” He asked in a very strong tone, deafening Anton’s fragile ears.
Since Anton’s mother passed away, his father had been hostile to him. Unable to blame anyone, he focused his anger on his son, who knew nothing but to obey every word he spoke in great fear.
But desperation pushed him to disregard his father’s command and follow the craving of his hunger. This morning, when no one was looking, he stole a piece of bread from a small bakery. He was caught. A child like him was inexperienced when it came to crime. It was survival instinct that taught him how to misbehave.
“I’m sorry….” He cried out, eating his own mucus while drinking his own tears.
Finally, his father got tired of beating him up and decided to call it for the day. Tomorrow was another day. It seemed he was his father’s punching bag, an object he used to dissipate his fury and disappointment in life.
The floor was his mattress as he laid resting, feeling the pain of his father’s abomination. Is it my fault that mama died? He thought as tears streamed out of his eyes. He did not seem to feel the cold of the bare floor where dust fell and covered the slippery surface.
“Why? Why Am I so unlucky? It’s not my fault to be born poor.” He cried out.
Those same words he spoke as a child kept on repeating whenever he was alone. The memory of the past kept haunting him down. Deep. Painful. Miserable. Those words described his childhood.
“Enough! Enough…….” He screamed as his hands clenched his hair, trying to get rid of a headache created by the trauma of his father’s beating.
Down to the floor, he laid almost in the same position as he was the night after he stole the piece of bread.
Head against the carpeted floor, his gaze was fixed on the huge mirror sitting on the floor, giving him the reflection of his soul.
“Who are you?” He asked himself, still staring in the mirror.
“I’m Anton Belinsky. A famous billionaire. A leader of the notorious and most feared mafia in the world. That child was dead, long time ago. I’m alive. Free. Successful. No one could beat me down any
more. No one. No one.”
However hard he tried to forget his past, it would always grab hold of his foot, pulling him down. Unless he learned to forgive. Only then he would find an inner remission that would set him free eternally from the bondage of his oppressed childhood.
Chapter One
Ripping the envelope, the sound of tearing paper increased her blood pressure. As she pulled the letter from its shelter, her hands quaked in great fear. She knew what it was. Something she foresaw coming. Something she’d been praying not to happen.
“Oh, please….” She cried out as she saw the Eviction Letter with her mother’s name on it.
“Mama…..” She called out. Her voice’s wavelength echoed all over the street.
Drinking coffee while watching her favorite program on T.V, she was perplexed to hear her daughter’s ear-splitting scream. What happened? She thought, alarmed that something was not right in the kitchen.
“What? Did you burn the patties I told you to cook for breakfast?” She asked, eyes wide open.
“No!” She replied, annoyed that she was oblivious to what was happening. “Did you know about this?”
Her mother knew exactly what she was talking about – it was fairly obvious. “Tasia. Look…..” She tried to explain, but Tasia cut in, exasperated that anytime soon, she might find her mother residing with other inmates.
“No. You know all about this, don’t you? Don’t lie to me.” Tears began to escape her eyes.
“Have a sit-down dear. I know you’re disappointed in me, but let me explain everything.”
“No! I don’t wanna hear your lies again. I’ve had enough of it. You told me you were not gonna gamble again. And yet, you did. How could you?” She cried in complete sadness as she imagined her mother being in jail.
“Please, sit down.”
Not knowing what to do, she was forced to sit down and hear her mother’s plea.
“Since your father died, I’ve been really lonely. Gambling is my only therapy, and you know that. I didn’t know what to do. I gambled what was left to us in hope to make it grow, and it did. That’s why I got you through to college.”
“I know that. But you told me you’re gonna stop.” Tasia cut in.
“Darling, you must understand that I’ve been really depressed lately when you were gone doing you studies. I couldn’t stay home. I’d go mad. Is that what you want? Tell me?”
Tasia felt what her mother was going through. She’d been there. She knew how it felt to be left out and abandoned. Of course, it was miserable. Who would want to be in that position? “So, what do we do now?”
“We’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about it so much. It’s my problem. It’s not yours to solve.”
Really? How could you say that? Tasia asked her mother in her thoughts. She was everything to her. And she would do almost anything to protect her. That was the promise she had made before her father died. A promise she had to keep.
****
Anton was wiping his .30 Carbine pistol when the brothers arrived from hunting. Raising his gun up slightly, he mirrored what they were doing through the shiny surface of his silver pistol.
“So how many did you manage to hunt?” He asked, wondering how much money they would earn out of the illegal weapons his brothers managed to trade.
“A couple.” One of them spoke.
“Give me the details.”
“20,000 pistols. 30,000 armalites. 15,000 shotguns. And 10,000 missiles.”
“Is that all?” He asked. His voice sounded like he was angry.
“Yes… We couldn’t convince the idiots to give us more shotguns. Instead, they gave us missiles.”
Turning around to face them, his face expressed a hint of danger. The brothers felt the sting of his stare.
“What are you gonna do with those freaking missiles? You all know not many wanted that crap. I told you to get shotguns, as many as you possibly can.”
“That’s the thing. They’ve run out. Oh, well. At least, that’s what they’ve said.”
“Assholes…. You should’ve blown their heads off.”
He turned again to put his pistol away.
“Go. Find our clients. Make sure you don’t mess up this time. Or otherwise, I’ll definitely blow all your heads off.”
The brothers were shocked. Fear clouded the atmosphere. They knew he was serious. A powerful and candid person like him could do almost anything with his money. They knew they were no match for him. One word – they might breathe their last.
Thinking about not having enough shotguns to provide his clients’ requests triggered his fury. Damn cunts, he thought. He walked back and forth repeatedly, trying to calm himself down. But the hatred pre-conceived as a kid always got the best of him.
He threw his pistol against the huge mirror. The sound of the mirror shattering into tiny pieces irritated him even more, inclining his already flaming temper. He wanted everything to be perfect. He was very organized. One mistake could turn him into a monstrous creature that everyone feared. He believed he could obtain everything through violence. At least, that was what he learned as he grew up.
He looked at his wristwatch for the time before dialing a number on the telephone.
“Hello? Sam, are you there?”
Sam was the old fellow who introduced him to the industry of mafia. He was an American man who traveled to Russia for illegal trading. Learning Anton’s crestfallen childhood forced him to help him reach his ambitious dream.
“Oh, hello there Anton. What brought you here?” He asked.
“I’m still in Russia. I’m coming over to talk about important stuff. If you know what I mean.”
He did not want to be so specific about the topic. He knew there might be FBI spies listening on the line. He’d seen it happened before to one of his brothers, and he was too wise to be fooled.
“Yeah, I know what you’re talking about. Just pop in. You know where I live, right?”
“Alright. Thanks!” Then he hung up the phone without even saying goodbye.
Chapter Two
Under a tree, Tasia sat on one of the benches in the park close to her house in Chicago, waiting for her cousin to arrive. The sun was in its full glory as it cast its tentacles all over the place. Thank goodness, a southerly breeze came in and whispered to her, drying the droplets of sweat all over her face.
As she gulped the last drop of water, she heard someone slam their car’s door with a mighty bang. She had a suspicion it was him. He liked a loud entourage to grab ladies’ attention.
“I knew it was you,” Tasia said as she turned her gaze to Nigel.
His X-Large yellow hoody shone brightly against the rays of the sun. His jewelry spoke that he was rich, not just pretending, pure 18 karat gold. His original NY hat covered his patchy, severely curled hair. But his outfit did not quite compliment his dark and shiny skin.
“Hello there, cousin. How have you been?” He gave her a hug and kissed Tasia’s cheeks as a token of his appreciation to see her after years of without.
“I’ve been well. What about you?” She asked, although she already knew the answer.
“Can’t you see?” He spanned his arms, showing off his expensive attire.
“Yeah, I see….” She agreed as her head bowed repeatedly.
They sat together, letting the heat of the moment calm down. After a couple of minutes, he noticed she became quiet.
“Tasia, you’re ok?”
“Ha? Ah, yeah… I’m ok, Nigel. I’m just thinking of Mama.”
“By the way, how’s Aunt Tonya?”
“Yeah… she’s fine.” Tasia’s voice hinted resignation, which he quickly read. She could not lie to him. They grew up together, and he knew exactly that she had something in mind. Or otherwise, she would not have called him to meet up.
He was aware this was not just a casual meeting. She needed something.
“Tasia.” Nigel’s voice was stern.
“Yeah?” She lazily repli
ed.
“Tell me the truth. Is everything fine with you and Aunt Tonya?”
“Ha?” She was shocked. Did he know already?
“Don’t lie to me. I knew something was up. What is it? Is it money?”
“Ummm… Actually, you’re right. It’s money. I don’t know if you already know but –“ She paused, thinking whether she should tell the truth or not.
“But?” Nigel extended his neck, waiting for her to continue.
“Mama is going to jail, and we’ll be evicted soon.” Tasia looked away, trying to restrain the tears welling up in her eyes.
“What?” He asked in disbelief. He’d never imagined them being destitute. As a young lad, he remembered her father giving him money just to attend school. His death was hard for him to accept, but ascertaining his beloved aunt would be imprisoned was even harder to take in.
“What happened?” He continued.
“Don’t ask!” Tasia said rudely, turning her back on him.
“Look, I don’t mean to offend you in any way, but I need to know how I could help you.”
“I need money. And I-I don't know where to get it. I don’t earn as much as you probably do, and all my wages go towards the bills. Oooh…. I don’t know what to do.” She cried silently, not wanting to attract anyone’s attention.
Nigel felt guilty. While he was earning tons of money by illegal trading on the Black Market, his cousin was problematic about her mother’s debts.
“Look. I know of something that could help you pay off your mom’s debts.”
Tasia’s countenance brightened. A glimpse of hope lightened her heavy laden.