If you want to identify someone, look at the way he treats those who are inferior to him and not his equals.

He was a man in his thirties with a plump face and small square glasses.

He spoke to me in Russian, but I did not understand a single word of his tirade.

"I don't speak Russian," I say in my language.

No problem, I speak English! "Exclaims the chubby fellow with a hideous Russian accent."

I smile stupidly at him, not knowing what else to do.

Are you lost? he asks me.

somehow

Follow me, my little lady; my Inga has prepared a beef treat!

Even though I've always learned not to trust strangers, this stranger seemed less dangerous to me than Ivan and his men.

Neither one nor two, I followed him up and followed him to a small row house not far from where I jostled him.

He opens the door of his house and hangs his coat on the coat rack.

Inga, we have a guest! he shouted.

A woman came out of what must have been the kitchen; she had an apron on and was doing the dishes by hand.

She called out to me in her mother tongue, but her husband told her that I spoke English.

Well, young girl, did you get lost?

More or less

Don't worry, you're going to explain all this to us, but before you go sit down, you must be hungry.

On her soft and maternal words, I pulled out a chair to sit down on. The house was small but very warm; it was decorated in a very kitsch way, yet we felt good there.

When the so-called Inga came into the dining room, it was to carry a large saucepan. She lifted the lid, and a tantalizing smell escaped. My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I had not eaten since I was in company. couch.

Inga served me a plate of ratatouille while her husband asked her why she hadn't made beef.

You're never happy, Donatello. Inga sighed.

We start to eat; I hold myself back so as not to throw myself on the food. I'm so hungry.

Hey, Knopka, You look hungry. How long has it been since you've eaten?

Since Monday

Olala It's Wednesday night! What happened to you?

An intuition told me to trust this family who had taken me in, and then, as if I had known them for a long time, I told them everything.

From the beginning to the end of my story, neither of them interrupted me; sometimes Inga let out "ohs" or "ahs," but she never interrupted me.

That's how I ended up on this street; I finished.

My God, Elisabethchka, that must be atrocious, my little darling! She said, taking me in her arms.

I'm sure it's a trick of these delinquents!

"Donatello, shut up, don't push her around like that," his wife reproached him.

Enough to? I asked.

Nothing at all; we'll talk about that tomorrow. For the moment you must be exhausted. Come with me; I'll show you the guest room and give you some clean pajamas.

I smiled at her and followed her.

After climbing a cramped old white wooden staircase, she led me through an old hallway decorated with yellowish patterned wallpaper.

She opened a cracked white door and turned on the small lamp. The latter illuminated the room filled with a small, simple bed with a mattress bordered on the left side by a bedside table.

Sorry, it smells a bit musty; it's been a long time since anyone slept here. Apologies, little lady.

No problem, it's so nice of you to host me!

She smiled at me and took a pair of folded pajamas out of the only wardrobe.

There are some clothes in this closet. "It belonged to my daughter," she said, putting the pajamas on the mattress.

When she bends down with difficulty, I notice for the first time that this woman, who at first glance seemed so strong to me, is actually weakened by age and by life.

Rest

She rubbed my arm before leaving. This gesture reminds me so much of my mother. She and I have never been very close, and her only marks of tenderness were summed up in these arm rubs. But that was only with me.

My sister was her pride. With her eldest daughter, she was truly a mother. I always grew up in her shadow. No matter how hard I tried, she never noticed me.

I wasn't good enough compared to his first daughter.

I sighed at the memory. No matter how tough I was answering teachers and drinking alcohol on the sly, I had lacked maternal love.

I tried to appear strong, with a heart of stone, so as not to show that this heart had been broken.

I drew the little yellow curtains, busying myself to avoid thinking about all those injuries, and put on my pajamas.

I slipped under the cold blanket and fell asleep in this unknown house, in this country that was not mine.

I woke up to the sun filtering through the thin yellow curtain. I got up and went down to the living room as I was used to. I had been staying with Inga and Donatello for a week. They had been so kind to me. welcoming me when I had nothing.

On the stairs I stopped by the loud voice of Inga to draw two words.

My first name is Mafia.

It didn't take me more to make the connection. These delinquents whom Donatello criticized yesterday were the mafia; they were those who were looking for me. In any case, it wouldn't have taken long for me to understand. Who, on the other hand, as a member of the mafia, could thus possess girls and force them into prostitution?

I went back into the living room; when they saw me, they stopped arguing.

"Oh my little Elisabeth, I hope you slept well. Come over here; I prepared breakfast," she said, leaving the living room to go to the dining room.

I had lunch with them in a good mood. I was really beginning to appreciate this family, which was still unknown to me a few days earlier.

When I had finished eating, Inga showed me the bathroom, and I washed.

When I stopped the water in the shower, I wrapped myself in a bath towel and went to the room where I had slept. In the wardrobe I took inventory of the few clothes that were stored there and managed to combine an outfit that I put on once the curtains were closed.

Once dressed, I fell into the closet on a notebook, certainly the diary of the famous girl, and hung above a pink ballpoint adorned with a pompom.

At the sight of the notebook, I had finally found a plan to get Inga and Donatello out of this mafia affair, which could harm them.

I seize the object.

I would have liked to stay with them forever, but eternity would have seemed too short.

I had to go through it several times before I managed to write a coherent letter.

I didn't want to hurt this couple who had welcomed me so warmly.

I sincerely liked them, and that's why it was out of the question for me to put their lives in danger.

I reread one last time the little letter I had written in English.

"Inga, Donatello,

I can't thank you enough for being so welcoming to me. You didn't know me, and for a while you welcomed me into your home, into your little traditional house.

I would have liked to stay with you and live here, learn Russian, and maybe even start a life in this country.

But this country is not mine, and this life is only a dream.

I could never put the lives of people like you in danger. It is out of the question that the mafia attacks you. For that I am obliged to leave.

You will always remain in my heart, and for what you have done for me, I am eternally grateful to you.

Take care. I love you.

Elizabeth xox"

I smoothed the blackened paper from my handwriting and laid it on the bed.

I had spent the whole day with this family.

Night had now enveloped the small northern town. Inga and Donatello had gone to sleep less than an hour ago. only a few foodstuffs. I had also stolen a photo of the couple. I wasn't proud of it, but it was the only way I had found to take their faces full of tenderness with me.

I put on the backpack and slowly opened the door. I walked slowly, like a thief, down the hallway of the house.

Passing in front of the door of their room, I felt a twinge in my heart. If I had been selfish, I would have stayed here. I could even have gotten used to this life.

Yet I continued on my way.

Because precisely, when you love someone, you protect them, and I had developed feelings for this couple, so friendly with the stranger that I was.

I went down the stairs and looked one last time at the little house whose three living rooms were bathed in moonlight.

I hadn't been around them for a long time, but when I closed the door, I knew that I was going to miss this family.

I walked through the darkness, finding myself in the city lights.

Here I am again in this city, which is still as unknown to me. Here I am, just as lost as a few days earlier when I had returned to the chubby man.

And the same question came to mind: what was I going to do now?

Never having burned her wings, she did not feel the danger of the flame.

Sitting on the public bench, I looked at the moon. It was not full; it was a small crescent.

She too was missing something.

When my sister was gone, I liked to look at her and think that no matter where she might be in the world, we were looking at the same moon, and somewhere the celestial star connected me to my big sister.

It might have been our mother's darling, but I never held it against her. After all, she was my sister, my blood.

But when she left, I hated her. Not only did she leave me alone—she was my role model—but my mother's indifference towards me was also transformed into hatred.

Since she left, my mother was no longer transparent but black. Every day I was subjected to her criticisms, her remarks, and her humiliations. At the beginning it had hurt me very badly. I answered her by screaming, or then I cried hot tears in front of her, hoping to awaken her maternal side.

Poor kid.

Some time later I had stopped in front of his lack of reaction and understood that we could not force people to like us.

Faced with this heavy fatality, I had made a big decision: never again would I be weak in front of someone.

And it was. Since then I had never cried in public again; I had built myself a shell, and I fled into it as if it had been a fortified castle.

Dreaming of my past, I didn't see myself falling asleep on the cold metal bench.

It was only the next morning, when a policeman shook me, that I realized that I had dozed off in this public place like the homeless people to whom I threw coins out of pity when I was little.

He yelled something at me in Russian that I didn't understand. Seeing my head shaped with incomprehension, he sighed.

I don't speak Russian, I expressed myself.

They were only missing that! Where do you come from?

From California.

He looked at me, and I saw from his expression that he was thinking. It took several long minutes before he opened his mouth again.

Get in my car. I'll take you to post.

I followed him to the small vehicle. Contrary to my bad habit, I fastened my seat belt. I was in the presence of the forces of order after all!

After he had started the engine, he dialed a number. When his correspondent answered, they chatted for a few short minutes, and once he had hung up, he set off.

For a short lapse of time, we drove on a lane at the limit of the highway and the country lane. Then he stopped in front of a car.

Innocently I tell myself that he must have gone and alarmed him that he was badly parked.

I swallowed my saliva with difficulty.

Obviously not everyone had a good Samaritan soul like Donatello and his wife.

Take me one last time to see those places that silenced the din of my dark thoughts.

BASS! POLICEMAN OF MY BALLS! I yelled as Ivan and his men dragged me out of the car. I WILL NEVER BUY YOUR UGLY CALENDAR AGAIN!

On Ivan's usually impassive face I saw the hint of a smile.

I was still swearing at that traitor when the car hit the freeway.

"You're driving me to hell, I guess," I whispered, looking out the window.

No, the orders have changed.

How so? I asked, turning my bewildered face to him.

You escaped the Russian mafia for almost a week; the boss wants to meet the young girl who managed to play his men for so long.

I tried to understand his words, a succession of words that I no longer even expected, while the northern landscape scrolled through the tinted window.

Maybe miracles did happen after all?

When the car slowed down in front of a huge grid, I realized that I might have spoken too quickly.

Because when those metal monsters closed behind me, I knew I hadn't just regained my freedom but lost what little I had left.

We walked through the great post-habitation domain; it was a huge park dotted with trees and cut by the path on which we were driving. I had never seen anything so beautiful.

At least until I see the house itself.

In front of me stood a huge mansion painted white; the front, a small sunken space, had two large columns, which, it seemed, held up the entire dwelling.

I got out of the car and ran to the little fountain opposite the entrance to the little palace.

I stared at the sky blue water, and I smiled in the face of so much beauty. It reminded me of my family vacation; every year we went to the same luxurious hotel, and every evening I had to go and look at the reflection of the moon in the fountain in front of the hotel. It was a tradition in the Rosefield family to go to this hotel. But even the traditions could not resist the disappearance of my sister.

I never saw the reflection of the moon in this hot water again, but the memory of it is intact.

"Ready to discover your princess castle?" Ivan whispers to me before passing me.

Suddenly I noticed the men guarding the entrance, those whom Ivan greeted, and my paradise fell into nothingness. I was not a princess; I was a prisoner. I was not facing a palace but facing hell, and inside I did not expect my prince but the devil himself.

It was now uneasy that I resumed my journey and followed in Ivan's footsteps.

The interior was in no way disappointing, quite the contrary. It was as sumptuous as the exterior.

Maids were running to the right and to the left like the ghosts of the place. Ivan didn't even seem to see them, nor them, nor the guards posted at the four corners of the house, and I wondered what it was like to be as invisible as useful.

It must be excruciating.

Suddenly one of the ghosts was called out to by my captor.

Olga, can you take our guest to the room reserved for her? She should wash, change, and make up before meeting him, don't you think?

The good lady nodded and asked me to follow her. She trotted along the way; even on the stairs I had the impression that she trotted like this.

Maybe it was a tic due to his demanding job? Or a remnant of a child who couldn't stay still?

She stopped in front of a huge double door and waved me in first.

BASS! POLICEMAN OF MY BALLS! I yelled as Ivan and his men dragged me out of the car. I WILL NEVER BUY YOUR UGLY CALENDAR AGAIN!

On Ivan's usually impassive face I saw the hint of a smile.

I was still swearing at that traitor when the car hit the freeway.

You're driving me to hell, I guess, I whispered, looking out the window.

No the orders have changed

How so ? I asked turning my bewildered face to him.

You escaped the Russian mafia for almost a week, the boss wants to meet the young girl who managed to play his men for so long.

I tried to understand his words, a succession of words that I no longer even expected, while the northern landscape scrolled through the tinted window.

Maybe miracles did happen after all?

When the car slowed down in front of a huge grid, I realized that I might have spoken too quickly.

Because when those metal monsters closed behind me, I knew I hadn't just regained my freedom but lost what little I had left.

We walked through the great post habitation domain, it was a huge park dotted with trees and cut by the path on which we were driving. I had never seen anything so beautiful.

At least until I see the house itself.

In front of me stood a huge mansion painted white, the front, a small sunken space, had two large columns which, it seemed, held up the entire dwelling.

I got out of the car and ran to the little fountain opposite the entrance to the little palace.

I stared at the sky blue water and I smiled in the face of so much beauty. It reminded me of my family vacation, every year we went to the same luxurious hotel and every evening I had to go and look at the reflection of the moon in the fountain in front of the hotel. It was a tradition in the Rosefield family to go to this hotel. But even the traditions could not resist the disappearance of my sister.

I never saw the reflection of the moon in this hot water again, but the memory of it is intact.

Ready to discover your princess castle, Ivan whispers to me before passing me.

Suddenly I noticed the men guarding the entrance, those whom Ivan greeted, and my paradise fell into nothingness. I was not a princess, I was a prisoner, I was not facing a palace but facing the hell, and inside did not expect my prince but the devil himself.

It was now uneasy that I resumed my journey and followed in Ivan's footsteps.

The interior was in no way disappointing, quite the contrary. It was as sumptuous as the exterior.

Maids were running to the right, to the left like the ghosts of the place. Ivan didn't even seem to see them, nor them, nor the guards posted at the four corners of the house, and I wondered what it was like to be as invisible as 'useful.

It must be excruciating.

Suddenly one of the ghosts was called out to by my captor.

Olga, can you take our guest to the room reserved for her? She should wash, change and make up before meeting him, don't you think?

The good lady nodded and asked me to follow her. She trotted along the way, even on the stairs I had the impression that she trotted like this.

Maybe it was a tic due to his demanding job? Or a remnant of a child who couldn't stay still?

She stopped in front of a huge double door and waved me in first.

When I pushed open the huge door, I discovered an equally magnificent room.

In the large Victorian style room, a four poster bed, like a princess's couch, was leaned against a wall. On the wall to the right of the bed, separated by a door leading to an individual bathroom, was an imposing wardrobe of bright white. When I opened it I almost fell over. I had never seen so many clothes, there were all sizes and all colors, there had so much luxury that made me dizzy.

Take your time choosing an outfit while I'm running your bath, said the little house fairy to me as she disappeared behind the white door.

With my fingertips I scrolled through the outfits. There was something to please everyone. For galas, for business meetings, for weddings, for parties and even to stay at home, there was no lack nothing.

Luckily the maid didn't come back immediately because I wouldn't have known which one to choose.

I liked them all.

When choosing, I took into account my situation, the event and my personal tastes by opting for something between the dresses that make me complex and the unformal pants.

So I took my clothes and put them on the big bed, which looked so soft, had to enter the bathroom.

Right on time, Madam, I had just turned off the water, Inga smiles.

I thanked her and when she slammed the door I undressed before entering the boiling water full of foam.

The bathtub was full to the brim with hot water and as relaxed as that I had a hard time telling myself that I was about to take a bath in a house inhabited by the mafia.

After a long time enjoying the bath to the fullest I got out, only because the water was starting to get cold.

I dried myself and then wrapped the towel around my body while I went to get my clothes and my underwear.

Back in the bathroom, I put them on and rummaged through the makeup bags on the dressing table.

I found an eyeliner and mascara there, which I applied to my face after doing my complexion.

I liked to wear makeup, I loved it even. I liked to feel feminine in magnificent outfits. Gradually I had started to wear makeup and I had even developed a certain talent.

I undid my hair with an African comb and it fell curled and cascading down my back. Finally I put on pumps and left the bathroom. I closed the bedroom door behind me when I left.

Barely on the doorstep, Olga almost jumped on me.

Finally, miss, you should have put on a dress and let me do your makeup! She exclaimed in panic.

I'm not one armed, I know how to do it myself, I laughed.

Sir will not appreciate at all, not at all at all at all.

And stop Olga breathing. I'm not afraid of him because he's a mobster.

She looks at me shocked and I see in her eyes that she is hiding something from me.

She goes ahead of me and leads me through a maze of corridors and stairs. Finally she stopped in front of a huge door. She put her hands on the two handles and before opening the white doors she looked at me and said:

He's not just a mafia, the gentleman is the head of the Russian mafia.

After dropping the bomb, it disappeared leaving me alone in front of this large desk.

I had prepared to meet an important member of the mafia, not a boss.

At the far end of the door, seated behind a solid oak desk, sat a stunningly handsome man. He was chatting with an elderly man until he looked at me.

With a wave of his hand, he cut short his eldest while keeping his piercing eyes on me. What poise, what authority.

Determined, I walked in a straight line towards him.

I stopped only when I was a few millimeters from the end of his desk.

In the silence of the room, I took the time to detail it in more depth.

He was a strong, square shouldered man who looked like a God.

He must have been the hero of a lot of feminine fantasies. He was the kind of man who had all the women at his feet when he wasn't looking for anything serious. I have been given to see, whether in reality or in stores, yet he had everything the perfect asshole, deceiver and womanizer. Everything about him imposed respect and idolatry. He emanated from him a virility that thrilled me to the spinal cord and aroused a sensation in my lower abdomen.

Yet I was supposed to hate this kind of man.

He was scrutinizing me too. He rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt without taking his eyes off me.

I moistened my lips, I tried somehow to get out the unhealthy ideas that were germinating in my mind.

Take care of yourself, Elisabeth good God, good evening!

Sit down please, he said to me in a deep voice after an interminable staring game.

Finally I sighed, as if I had been in apnea and that I had just come back to the surface, I sat down on an armchair facing his desk.

He was also tall and imposing. I sat straight as a picket, I was not in my element. I had the impression of being prey for this man who had only one goal: destroy me.

The man from earlier, stiff, like a pawn, was studying me up and down.

I have no room for error.

So, Miss Rosefield, you are playing with my henchmen.

I felt like I was in my director's office trying to pull up my braces. The situation was all the more awkward as the feeling in my stomach didn't go away.

To tell the truth, she only got worse at the sound of his deep, masculine and downright sexy voice.

How long already? One day ?

A week, I corrected him with a glint of provocation in my eyes.

He dodged a smirk.

That's right

Suddenly he got up taking advantage of me, I was sitting and he was standing.

He was trying to make me uncomfortable.

He walked around his desk and came to stand in front of me, leaning slightly on the end facing me.

Tell me why can't I just kill you for this affront?

My blood froze, yes indeed he could quite simply kill me, make me disappear with the snap of a finger.

If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already, am I wrong? I say with my head held high.

He laughed.

Indeed, maybe I only keep you because you amuse me with your rebellious ways.

At the end of this sentence, he leaned towards me so close that I could almost feel his mouth brush against my ear as his perfume intoxicated my nostrils.

Maybe I just want to fuck you Élisabeth

His crude words only accentuated the fire that consumed my lower abdomen.

The bastard he was trying to make me lose my means.

If so, I said standing up, you're wasting your time, you're not my type of man.

And before leaving, finding the courage of I don't know where I left him, turning my head:

Especially since I heard that it does not exceed the bar of ten centimeters. . K

And I left with my head held high, jostled by this reply that was far too daring for the virgin that I was.

This is out of the question ! I objected.

Vladimir, calm down, you know very well that when your father makes a decision, he doesn't go back on it.

IT IS OUT OF THE QUESTION THAT I MARRIED MY OWN COUSIN!

Finally Vladimir, Polina is not such a bad match

I said no

But

I cut off my uncle with a wave of my hand as a gentle creature burst into my office.

At the end of the room was the young American.

She walked towards me while staring at me. Her long legs executed firm, almost military movements.

She stopped right in front of my desk and, perched on her high heels, she remained motionless.

His brown eyes were fixed on me, they were framed by long hair with rebellious curls that made you want to comb it by hand.

Her little body was dressed in a simple top with a skirt, this outfit was a real provocation. Never had a woman presented herself to me other than dressed in a dress.

Her flared skirt ended in the middle of her fleshy thighs.

You couldn't say she was fat but to say she had a model body would have been a lie.

She was far from being the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, yet something made her different, pleasant to look at.