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Nightfall - A Mafia Romance Novel Cover

Nightfall - A Mafia Romance

To save her father, a woman trades her freedom to the ruthless Bratva don, Dmitry Tsezar. The billionaire single father demands more than her body; he craves her total submission and soul. However, as his obsession turns lethal, she uncovers a horrifying secret hidden within a forbidden wing of his mansion. This dark discovery shifts the power dynamic between them, threatening to shatter their lives and change their fates forever.
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Chapter 3

"Hey, baby girl," she croons in the sickly sweet voice she uses when it has been way too long since we've spoken. "How are you?"

"Did you get a new phone?"

"Oh yeah," she says. "A couple months ago. Did I not give you the number?"

"No, but I guess I have it now."

She laughs. "That's right. You sure do. Now you have no excuse not to call me."

"What was your excuse?" I say before I can think better of it.

I don't have time to fight with my mom right now, and when she sighs on the other end of the phone, I try to backpedal.

"I was just joking."

"I know I promised I'd see you over fall break, but time got away from me," she said. "I was traveling and lost my phone and had to get a new one."

I make a noncommittal noise to let her know I get it. Even though I completely don't-and I don't really care to, either.

"Things just got crazy," she says. "But I wanted to call and make plans for winter break. I thought I could come to town for a few days. Maybe see your dorm room and you could show me the campus and-"

"Actually," I say, interrupting her. "I'm in the middle of studying for a final."

"This will only take a second," she says, her sweet voice disappearing. "Just a 'yes' or 'no.'"

"The dorms are closed over winter break. I won't be in town."

"Oh," she says, disappointed. "Where are you staying? You could come stay with me. I'm in a one-bedroom studio and Markus stays over a lot these days, but we have a futon, and I'm sure we could rig up a partition so-"

"I'm staying with Dad," I say. "We arranged it weeks ago."

Weeks ago. When my mom was traveling and too busy to talk to me. Like always.

She tries to sound offended, but even if I did come visit her for the break, she'd find a reason why I needed to leave early or why I should maybe get a hotel room instead. Her boyfriend doesn't like kids and refuses to acknowledge that I'm a grown woman and not a child who's going to get Pringles crumbs on his leather La-Z-Boy.

"Well, if your father gets time with you, then I should, too."

"I'm not a brownie you're splitting in half," I snap. "I'm a person. I choose where I spend my time. Dad doesn't get time with me. He's earned it by being there. Like a parent is supposed to be."

I really don't have time for this argument right now, but I can't help myself when it comes to my mom. She gets under my skin.

She huffs. "That's not fair, and you know it. When your father and I split up, I couldn't take you with me, and you resent me for it."

"I resent you for acting like you can waltz back into my life at any time you want," I say. "Like I said before, I'm busy studying. I have to go."

"Call me later. This isn't over."

It is over. I won't be calling her later. I have no intention of seeing her over the break.

"Bye," I say shortly, disconnecting the call.

My heart is racing the way it does every time I get in a fight with my mom. There's something instinctually wrong with having this kind of a relationship with your own parent, and my body knows it. I'm always jittery for a while after we argue. I shake my arms to dispel the weird feeling and pull my book towards me.

I've only read three words when another phone starts to ring. I don't recognize the song and then realize it's Dandan's alarm, chirping from the other side of the room.

She groans and shoves the phone under her pillow, stifling the noise but not stopping it.

"Dan." I lean around my desk. "Dan!"

Nothing. No movement or rustle. Just the slightly muted sounds of bells chiming.

Forty-five minutes until my test.

There's no point in trying to study anymore. It'll take me fifteen minutes to walk to the exam room anyway.

I sigh and pack up my books. I won't be able to use them during the test, but maybe their knowledge will leach into me like osmosis if I carry them.

That feels like my only hope at the moment.

THE SUN IS high in the sky when I walk out of my test, and I swear there are more birds singing than normal. If this was a musical, I'd skip down the sidewalk, twirl a stranger into a dance, and click my heels.

I passed.

I don't know that for sure, but I can feel it. I crushed that test.

I don't know if it was my relentless cramming or the osmosis technique, but it worked. I didn't have to skip any questions and come back to them. I didn't have to make any guesses. I made it through the multiple choice, true/false, and essay questions like a boss, and now I'm free.

Winter break awaits.

I'm walking past the rec center, heading back towards my dorm, when I stop and look through the large wall of windows into the dance studio.

I've passed it every day, multiple times per day, all semester, but I've never gone in. There were always classes in there, ranging from beginners to longtime dancers, that I didn't want to interrupt. Or I had studying to do. But now, the room is empty and the semester is over.

I'm free.

Before I can second-guess myself, I cut across the grass and test the studio door. Despite no one being inside, it's unlocked.

As soon as I walk in, the automatic lights flicker on, and I'm home.

The smell of wood greets me, and I drop my backpack in the corner and kick off my shoes on the rug.

I haven't been in a dance studio since the summer. I haven't danced since summer, either. Not even in my dorm room. There isn't enough space, and Dandan would definitely give me judgy eyes if I woke her up. So, tiptoeing across the floor and spinning feels like dipping my feet in a cool lake on a hot day. It feels refreshing, like my body is awake for the first time in months.

I've always enjoyed school and exercising my mind, but after months of studying and bending hunchbacked over my schoolbooks, it feels incredible to exercise my body.

There's a small CD player in the corner, and I hit play, hoping something is already loaded up, and immediately pop music begins to play through the speakers in the corners of the room.

I slide to the center of the room and easily transition from ballet to a more contemporary style. As I lose myself in the music, the two begin to blend until I'm alternating from fluid movements to a grand jeté and back again.

I'm completely lost in the movement when the music turns off.

Stuttering to a stop, I turn to see a middle-aged woman standing near the stereo. "You're great, but I have a class in here in five minutes."

I blanch, blushing a deep red. "Sorry," I mumble.

I jog the rest of the way to the dorms barefoot, my sneakers in my backpack, and dance into my room. In a startling turn of events, Dandan isn't there, so I turn up the music on my laptop and dance to and fro as I clean the room and pack for winter break.

When I'm done cleaning, I watch a few bootleg episodes of a reality TV show someone has uploaded to the internet and then make my way down to the dining hall for lunch. Everyone is gone by this point in finals week, so the offering is just some stale sandwiches and a cereal bar. I opt for two bowls of marshmallow cereal, assuming my dad will have made a big dinner to welcome me home.

By the time I get back to my room, I only have a few minutes until Sadie will be there to pick me up. She lives in a suburb just outside the city that's only fifteen minutes from my dad's house, so she's going to give me a ride since I don't have a car. My dad tried to convince me he could afford to get me a car, but I told him that between the cost of textbooks and my meal plan, I wouldn't have any money for gas and zero time for a job. So, he dropped it. Thankfully, Sadie has been an accommodating chauffeur.

She arrives just as I finish packing, and I turn off the lights, lock my door, and race down the back stairwell to meet her.

I expected her to be alone, but there's a large man with dark red hair sitting in the front seat. He climbs out as soon as he sees me, offering the front seat to me, and climbs in the back.

"Thanks," I say, pinching my brows together in a question as I slide into the seat.

"This is Devon," Sadie says in answer. She smiles in the rearview mirror at him. "His car is at the shop, so I offered him a ride as well."

"Sadie girl is our very own taxi service," Devon says, reaching up and laying a hand on Sadie's shoulder. Her cheeks blush.

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