Between Whispers and Tortures Part I

Dominic’s Point Of View

I was lying on Maggie’s narrow bed, the sheet bunched up at my feet, feeling the coolness of her skin in the air that still had a faint scent of the sweet perfume she always wore. The bedroom ceiling looked like a blank canvas, but the silly smile on my face made it clear that my mind was far away, wrapped up in thoughts of Maggie. There was no Russia, no mafia, no responsibilities. It was just her. The lightness she brought was a perfect break from the chaos I called life.

I heard a murmur behind the door followed by a sound that seemed like... an attempt at a disguised swear word. I let out a muffled laugh. Maggie had this habit of making up words when she didn't want to say a real swear word.

Adorable. Like everything about her.

I turned my head to see her come through the door, her bare feet making noise on the wooden floor. She was wearing an oversized button-down shirt that almost covered her legs. Her red hair was messy, falling in waves over her shoulders, even more so after the last hour we spent together. Maggie was holding a tub of ice cream, her face beaming as if the simple act of eating ice cream after... well, after us, was the perfect climax to the rest of the day.

“I brought dessert,” she announced, walking around the bed and sitting down next to me, her back against the headboard.

She held out a spoon to me, but instead of taking it, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward me. She let out a little scream, followed by a laugh that was quickly cut off by my kiss. I kissed her hard, tasting the whole day still on our lips, and Maggie, ever Maggie, murmured my name.

“Dominic...” as if it were both a warning and an acceptance. She laughed again, pulling away slightly and patting me gently on the chest before laying her head on my stomach.

With the ice cream tub in her hands, she began to scrape the surface, taking a small spoonful and bringing it to her mouth. I just watched her, the smile still on my face. After a moment, she took some ice cream and held the spoon out to me. I opened my mouth and let her feed me.

We stayed there for a while, in silence. The kind of silence that only exists between two people who connect without needing words. The air was light, her breathing calm. And it was in that silence that I decided to break the spell for a moment.

“Maggie,” I began, my voice low, “have you ever thought about having a different life?”

She frowned, turning her face to look at me. Her brow furrowed slightly, and then that little smile appeared, the kind she gave when she wasn't quite sure where I was going with this.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her voice soft but curious.

I took the spoon from her hand and scooped my own bite of ice cream, tasting the sweet flavor in my mouth before answering. “I don't know... living somewhere else, another reality. A life different from the one you have here in Las Vegas.”

She was silent for a moment, her eyes locked on mine, as if she were pondering the question. After a while, she shrugged and replied simply.

“No, I've never thought about it. The life I have here is all I know. Sure, I'd like to improve it, but be someone else? Live somewhere else? I don't think so.”

I nodded thoughtfully.

Her words echoed strangely in my head. I wished things were as simple for me as they were for her. Then she turned the question back on me.

“What about you? Have you ever thought about having a different life?”

I ran my fingers through her red hair, tucking a strand behind her ear. I took a deep breath before answering, my voice growing deeper.

“The life I lead... doesn't allow me to think about that. I'm stuck with a destiny that was mapped out the day I was born.”

Maggie frowned, confused, but as always, she didn't ask me anything, as she had promised to do the day I kissed her for the first time. She knew there were things I couldn't share with her.

She simply nodded, giving me a small smile of understanding, even though she didn't fully understand.

“Well, I guess we were lucky to find each other,” she said softly. “Because, from what it seems, our worlds are very different.”

I smiled at her, a bitter but sincere smile. “You don't know how lucky we are, luckier me than you, princess,” I murmured, pulling her closer until her lips brushed mine again.

We kissed, and in that moment, I knew that no matter what the future held, the days I had with Maggie would be my escape. And as much as I knew she couldn't be mine forever, in that moment, all that mattered was the now.

Her smile.

Her touch... And the luck that, for a brief moment, was all mine.

I woke up with my heart pounding in my chest, as if I had just run a marathon. Dreaming about Maggie always left me feeling agitated and restless. I used to think that, with time, she would settle into some quiet corner of my mind, but my dreams insisted on bringing her back to the surface, disturbing my peace. No matter how hard I tried, the thought of her seemed uncontrollable, especially when something simple, like the smell of strawberries or the act of eating ice cream, made her reappear in my mind.

I got out of bed abruptly, the feeling of frustration pushing me out of the sheets. I threw my underwear aside as I headed to the bathroom, my bare feet sliding across the cold floor. The need to get away from Maggie, even if only for a moment, was urgent.

I stepped into the shower stall and turned on the water, adjusting it to a cold temperature that promised to wake me up completely. The contact of the ice on my skin was an invigorating shock, cutting through the tangle of thoughts that still revolved around her. The cold shower was a ritual I used to recover from the feeling of loss and frustration, trying to wash away the impact Maggie still had on me.

After a while under the shower, I got out, dry and dressed. I chose a well-cut, formal navy blue suit that made me feel like I had control over everything, especially what was going through my head. The tailored fabric and structure of the three pieces reminded me that, on the outside, I still needed to be firm and ready to face the world of the mafia. It was a small attempt to reconcile myself with reality, a way to mask the internal turmoil I felt.

As I adjusted my tie, I looked in the mirror and saw my reflection. The man I saw was a contrast to what I felt inside. There was control, the facade of calm and competence.

I focused on what was in front of me. My reality that I couldn't run away from or hide from.

I slowly descended the stairs of the Volkov mansion, feeling the weight of each step echo through the marble beneath my feet. The feminine laughter coming from the dining room cut through the silence of the house, a sound that would normally be welcoming. But for me, it was a reminder of the theater I was about to face. As I walked through the door, I was met by three figures I knew all too well: my mother, Irina Volkov, my little sister Yulia, and, of course, Yelena.

All three stood up immediately when they saw me. My eyebrows arched slightly. “Always the ritual,” I thought, as my mother, with her rigid posture and authoritative tone, spoke:

“Dominic, we were waiting for you for breakfast. Yelena has come to discuss the preparations for the engagement dinner.”

My mother was direct as always, and I knew what was coming. My eyes turned to Yelena, her future daughter-in-law, and the woman who had been designated to be my wife.

Her eyes sparkled with an excitement that seemed as forced to me as the fate they had imposed on us. Her smile was impeccable, her features delicate and carefully polished. Everything about her screamed perfection—the perfection my mother and the rest of the mafia expected alongside the Boss. Yelena had been trained for this. To be the perfect wife of one of the great men of the organization. But as much as she was the exact vision of what was expected of me, I felt absolutely nothing. No attraction, no admiration. Just the emptiness of an obligation. Her cheerful smile and the seductive glances she gave me when we were alone didn't move a fiber of my being.

“Dominic,” Yelena began, her voice soft but firm. “The dinner is in a week and a half. We can't put off the preparations any longer. We want you to be up to your position.” Her eyes sparkled as she talked about the party, as if it were something she truly desired.

My sister Yulia, always perceptive, was at my side, and I noticed the subtle roll of her eyes as Yelena spoke. Yulia had never hidden her disdain for the woman everyone expected to become my wife. She was making an effort now, trying to hide it, especially after my mother forbade her from expressing her opinions—after all, she would soon be eighteen and would need to be more restrained. Life as the wife of a mafia man did not allow for such transparency.

I looked at my future fiancée and then at my mother. I let out a mental sigh before responding, keeping my tone impassive.

“Thank you for waiting for breakfast, but the conversation with Yelena will have to wait. I have an important appointment and I don't want to be late.”

Yelena's face fell slightly, and my mother immediately frowned, the reproach clear in her voice.

“Don't you have a few minutes for your future bride, Dominic? This seems like a slight.”

Internally, I wanted to roll my eyes like Yulia, but I kept my face impassive.

“I’m sure you two can take care of the dinner details. I trust your taste.” I gave a subtle nod, indicating that there was nothing more to discuss. “I wish you all a good coffee.” I turned without another word, crossing the room and passing through other rooms until I reached the entrance hall.