Submitting to My Best Friend's Dad by Scarlett Rossi
Chapter 517 -

*Natalia*

Tallon had walked me home. He was so sweet and gentle as he walked me through the streets when he very easily could've sent me in one of his no doubt very expensive cars. But he was charming, as he joked that he would miss my lovely company, and I had to admit I was glad to share those last few moments with him.

If only I hadn't lied about where I lived-if I hadn't directed him to the spare apartment my family had rented out for me that allowed them to keep an eye on me and in extension, Tallon.

The moment I walked through the door, however, I was met face-to-face with the last person I wanted to see right now.

"Uncle." I immediately straightened to my full height, swallowing uncomfortably as he turned his dark eyes on me.

He sat on the couch, a nice leather one I didn't have to steal from the garbage like in my last apartment. He surveyed me, a cigar in his left hand, and I grimaced as he blew out a puff of smoke all over the couch, the scent of the nicotine bitter and acrid.

"So you managed to pull it off," my uncle drawled with a bored tone. "Impressive for someone like you."

"Yes, Uncle." I flinched despite myself, hanging my head and staring at my sandals. I needed to repaint my toenails; the faded blue color was rubbing off. I heard his snort, something I had heard often as a child, mostly whenever he became aware of my existence.

"Make sure not to screw this up, Natalia," my uncle said coldly as he rose to his feet, sending me a scathing glare. "Dla semyi."

I stared at him blankly as he waited for my response with growing agitation. Finally, under his cold stare, I paled as he took a threatening step forward, his eyes narrowed on me angrily.

"You don't even know that. How disappointing." He passed by me, blowing a ring of smoke right next to my face. I held my breath under the cloud of smoke, but he took his sweet time and I had to inhale. I held in my breath the desperate need to cough the toxins out of my body as I stood there, too stiff to be comfortable.

I heard the door open behind me, and my uncle muttered a low, angry, "polukrovka," before storming out and slamming the door shut. The photo on the wall rattled and fell over, shattering the glass into pieces.

I burst into a coughing fit, holding my chest as it felt like my lungs were trying to jump out of my body. I waved away the remnants of the smoke, glancing at the photo on the floor. It was one of the few photos I had.

I knelt on the floor, clearing my throat as I gently plucked the picture from the mess of glass and wood frame.

I traced the face of the young woman in the photo, beaming despite the exhaustion in her eyes as she held a toddler in her arms. With an arm wrapped around her, a man stood beside her, a goofy grin on his face as he stared not at the camera but at his wife and child.

The little girl had her fist stuffed in her mouth as she stared at the camera with wide, curious eyes.

It was the only photo I had of my father, of all of us together.

I got to my feet, placing the photo in one of the many drawers for safekeeping as I grabbed the broom and swept up the glass shards. It was calming in a way, helping to soothe my anxiety from my uncle's visit.

I dumped the glass and finally settled on the chair across from the couch. I couldn't bear to sit in it half the time, despite how high-end it looked. I sighed, pulling out my phone as I tucked my knees to my chest, curled up in the old rocking chair that used to be my mother's.

I stared blankly at my phone, a smartphone I'd gotten from the clearance rack and decorated with a cover full of rainbow butterflies that I'd done myself. I thumbed the on button on the side of the screen, pushing it on and off even though I knew it wouldn't do any good.

Polukrovka.

It wasn't the first time I'd heard the slur being thrown my way, and it probably wouldn't be the last time either. And it wasn't like it was wrong. I'd never learned Russian properly.

It was one of my biggest flaws in my family's eyes and my own. My mother, despite being close to her brother, had not been part of the family legacy. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't have been.

She was a woman, and women, at least in the mafia, were to be seen and not heard. My family was not happy when my mother married a foreigner, especially one from the States, but they saw an opportunity to gain a foothold here through him.

I wasn't sure what my father did for a living, but I remembered him as a kind, goofy man who played with me all the time. But then things crumbled, as they always did.

My mother did her best after my father's death, after losing her entire family and all the money and prestige it came with. I didn't know the details, but we went into hiding after that, something my father had guaranteed if things went south. She made a new life for us, one that was harder but she provided me with everything I needed, except for one thing.

Despite only being relatives, we were being hunted and as such, my mother had chosen to forgo her identity as a Russian woman. That meant there had been no keepsakes from her home country, no traditions of foreign holidays or recipes she grew up eating, and, especially, no speaking Russian.

Anytime my uncles or cousins came to visit, it was the biggest rule my mother kept-no Russian. We spoke English in the house at all times and though my uncles hated the rule, and thought it was disrespectful to her roots, they obliged. For my cousins, it was their first language, the one they learned before all else. For me, however, I had never learned a single word. 'We are American,' my mother would always scold me when my cousins teased me about not knowing our home language. 'Ignorance keeps us safe.'

And it did, for a while.

Not knowing the language actually put me at an advantage compared to my uncles and cousins. They would often be tracked down more easily and be harassed or even killed. I couldn't count how many wives my first uncle had lost, or how many of my cousins never made it to their first breath because my elder cousins couldn't keep their mouths shut.

But my mother and I were kept safe.

As an adult, I learned a little Russian, just to keep up in a basic conversation. But my cousins, the brutes that they were, never let me forget that my pronunciation was all wrong, that my accent was American, and that I used the wrong word in the wrong situation.

It never ended with them, but I never forgot that stupid nickname they called me all the time.

"Polukrovka," I muttered bitterly to myself, the word sounding wrong rolling off my inexperienced tongue. Half-breed.

It was a reminder that I was different, that I was tainted with blood not their own... an outsider within the family. Despite my flaws, they still kept me around because of my mother. They still made sure I was taken care of, but they would never let me forget that I was still a half-blood.

I sighed, leaning my head on my knees as I fiddled with my phone in my hand. My uncle coming here would only be the first of no doubt many times. They were always watching me, someone always hidden away in the shadows to make sure I did my duty to my family.

It was a familiar bond that felt like a noose around my neck sometimes.

I never wanted to deceive Tallon, to play him like an instrument and destroy everything he had built and worked for. I didn't want to do that. I couldn't keep this up forever. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to, especially not now.

Tallon was the leader of the Valentinos, the mafia that had destroyed my family. I had been raised on stories of their bloodthirsty nature, learning of their traitorous spirits that had killed so many of my blood relatives, including, indirectly, my father.

But now... I just couldn't believe Tallon was the same person in all of those stories. the one willing to cut down anyone in his way, willing to destroy good people just to get what he wanted. He didn't seem like any of that to me. He was doting and funny and he never failed to make me smile, to bring me from the dark places where my thoughts would travel. Like a light in my life, he was the brightest star in the sky, ready to guide me home. And I was the foolish little girl who'd fallen in love with him.

Our night together had been amazing. He'd been exactly the kind of lover I'd always wanted and more, and I could feel in my heart that I was drifting. I just couldn't stay away from him, like he was a drug I had to keep coming back to. But despite how they treated me, despite knowing what they did was wrong, I still loved my family. My mother deserved the world and I wanted to give that to her, to restore the glory of our former family for her.

But it was getting harder to see where the line was. The bridge of my loyalties was crumbling away, and I couldn't tell which way was up or down anymore. I liked Tallon, perhaps even loved him, but I couldn't just abandon my mother either. It was like they'd tied ropes to my heart and each of them was pulling in a different direction. I didn't know who would win at this point, who I wanted to win.

I sighed, finally grabbing my phone and making the call I had been dreading. The call rang and then someone picked up with a rough, "Hello?"

"He is taking me to Positano and the Isle of Capri tomorrow," I reported diligently, despite how hard my heart screamed in defiance.

"Good. Someone will follow you," my cousin answered in response, cold and detached as always. "Anything else?"

"No."

And without as much as a goodbye, the call fell silent. I sighed, dropping the phone into my lap just as I heard the familiar tone of an incoming text message. I frowned opening it up, and my heart leaped when I saw it was from Tallon. 'Hey, just wanted to let you know we'll leave tomorrow afternoon, probably one or two if that's okay with you? I'll pick you up at your place, so don't worry about anything. I miss you already, Natalia.'

My heart melted at the sweet words, and I tucked my phone over my heart and shut my eyes. The doubts came back, closing in on me as I realized this might have already gone too far.

But what could I do?

Tell him? He'd hate me. He'd lock me up as he rightfully should, or maybe even kill me. But if things continued like this, Tallon would be in danger. I didn't know the right answer and I wasn't sure there even was one, but maybe he'd be safe if I left before things got out of hand.

Before my family tried to kill him.

But when the time came, could I even let him go?