“I don't think you would have cared if I hadn't had such a wonderful daughter,” Lenny said.
Grigori thought for a while. “No, you're right. If it hadn't been for Lucy, I would have blown your brains out.”
Everyone laughed, and Lenny departed.
*****
The newspapers reported the death of “A Russian Businessman,” but that was the end of it. They heard no more. Natasha was killed a few months later in a motorcycle accident.
Grigori and Lucy were married, and when their first child was born, Grigori stopped all his illegal activities and went straight. He built up a huge real estate portfolio, which he willed to his son and daughter.
Lucy spent a happy life painting and seeing to her family. She was such a good painter, she managed to sell many pieces to collectors from all over the world. But her biggest love wasn't art. It was Grigori, her children, and her father.
*****
THE END
MAFIA Romance – Owned and Protected
“I can't do this. I really can't,” Cassy said. The house was full of floral tributes to her late father.
“You can, Cassy. Be strong for Michael. He really needs you now.”
Cassy smiled at Judy. “You're the best friend anyone could wish for. Thank you so much for supporting me today.”
“And you are the best person I have ever known. Come on, let's go.”
At St. Michael's Church, Pastor Jeffries was waiting for the funeral cortege at the church gate. He hadn't seen Cassy for a while; she didn't come to church as often as her mother and father had. Her late parents, Douglas and Wanda, had showered the church with generous financial donations, and he wondered, now that Cassy was head of the family fortune, whether she would be as generous.
When the hearse and limousines pulled up, Pastor Jeffries noticed what a fantastically beautiful woman Cassy had turned into. Tall and slender with wonderfully curved hips and a generous bosom, she was more elegant than any woman he had ever seen in his congregation.
“Cassy,” he said, shaking her hand. “I'm sorry for your loss. It must be very hard to lose your mother and father in quick succession.”
“It is, but at least they are together again,” she said through the black veil.
Cassy turned to Judy. “Look how many mourners there are. I hadn't expected this.”
“Your father was a well-known man, not only in New York but throughout the US. There isn't a single person in this country who hasn't at some time been to a ToysForAll store. How many stores are there? Six hundred?”
“Six hundred and three.”
“And you will be just as good as your father at running the business.” Judy held on to her hat as a gust of wind threatened to remove it from her head.
“I only wish he'd been around for another ten years. I'm only twenty-two. What do I know about business?”
“You have some great people working for you, people who really respected your father and who will help you.”
“Michael, are you all right?” Cassy asked. She put her arm around her fifteen-year-old brother.
“Okay. Two hundred and seventy-three,” he said.
“What?”
“People.”
“Have you counted them all?”
Michael's head tilted to one side. “Yes.”
“Wow. I really don't know how you do that,” Cassy said.
“Because he's clever, aren't you, Michael,” Judy said. Michael didn't answer; he was looking at a plane high above them.
The service was short and to the point. Cassy hadn't wanted Michael to suffer any longer than necessary.
“Men, don't like,” Michael said when they were leaving.
“Which men?” Cassy asked.
“Men under trees. I don't like.” Michael began to shift from one foot to the other and throw his head around. “Don't like. Go away.”
Judy caught up to them. She'd been delayed by Pastor Jeffries, who was keen to know whether Cassy would be donating to the fund to repair the church roof. “What's the matter with Michael?” she asked.
“He doesn't like those men over there.”
Judy looked at a line of trees that bordered the cemetery. “I agree. They are a shifty-looking bunch. You're right, Michael.”
“He gets like this when he's stressed,” Cassy whispered to Judy. “Dad was so good with him. I only hope I can be.”
“You're great with him. Autism isn't an easy thing to deal with.”
*****
“Tell me how much you want it,” Igor Ivanovich said to the blond woman he was pressing against the wall. He put his hand to the hem of her skirt and began to pull it up. “Tell me, how much do you want my cock?”
She'd never been with a man like Igor. He turned her on so much that she wasn't able to answer him. She just continued to grind her pelvis against him.
“Can't answer, huh?” he said. In a flash, he ripped her panties off and put his hand over her vulva. “I can feel how much. You don't have to speak,” he said.