C1 The past returns

Anya's story

It’s already late, and I was way behind schedule for this morning’s meeting. A lady from high society, if one can call that the Mafia world, marries the man of the cartel dealing with cigarettes, they say to strengthen their businesses. Twisted world. There were cases of such weddings as arrangements precisely to put an end to a long-burning hatred or signing long-lasting partnerships.

If you would ask me why I got involved in such a job, I would tell you it is my past. A past that I could not forget and that I avenged.

“Anya, my dear, Mrs. Ulyeva called again. She is waiting for you at the restaurant you already know. She says it’s no problem that you’re late because she’s just arrived. But you’d better hurry, I don’t think she likes to wait too long for you “

“I will get there as soon as I can. I will take my portfolio and I will run”

“Okay, will you call me when you’re done?”

She was always asking me to call her so she would make sure I was safe. In my line of activity, it was difficult to be safe, but I was always trying to escape with my life every time I met one of them.

I started WeddPlan five years ago and since then I have been very daring to organize the weddings of the most dangerous mobsters in all of Russia. Behind these plans led a tumultuous past, and a promise made to dear people for whom my revenge I will consume cold.

Katia tried at first to make me give up my plan but the pain was so great that I refused her nicely and gave her a friendly ultimatum: if she wanted to help me she was welcome if not, I would not judge her at all. I understood her reluctance given what people we were dealing with. She was with me and she helped me.

“You know I call you every time, my dear. Don’t worry so much about me anymore. I’ll be fine, I promise!” Katya’s face lit up instantly as if I had offered her the safest life jacket.

“Okay, go now!”

I always went to this restaurant hidden from prying eyes and was always full of heavy names of the Russian Mafia. I had already made a name for myself in their world and they increasingly sought me for my services and professionalism and especially for my discretion. The Mafia world could be dangerous, but I always told myself that it was only for those who lived in it. I was just a guest who came in from time to time but never stayed. Once the business was over and the wedding ended on good terms, both they and I destroyed everything, from the guest list to the design of the wedding dress of the fortunate woman who will step into an unnaturally dangerous world.

I got there pretty fast. My heart was almost piercing my chest. It was like that every time. The brides could be from the normal world as I used to call them, or they could be part of the cartels, and then the data of the problem became a little more complicated.

The cartel women were powerful, uninhibited, intimidating. So was Sandra Ulyeva, the daughter of a powerful oil tycoon and the second in the Western cartel, those who call themselves Dark Blood. A rightful name for how fierce this Cartel was. The oil mafia spread all over Russia, as did the dark market weapons mafia. The two areas were in fact very well cohesive.

As soon as I crossed the threshold of the restaurant, I didn’t even leave the clothes that I was told they were expecting me and taken to the secluded table in the booth behind the hall. The high ceiling always caught my attention, and the elegant chandeliers stopped you from walking to admire their grandeur. It was impossible to resist the opulence of this place. And the people who occupied his chairs were more and more fierce and more involved in wondering what business they should de next. Not that I was interested in that, but I couldn’t help but notice their suspicious looks as I shyly passed between tables.

I quickly crossed the room and my eyes fell on the face of a man as elegant as he was fierce. The future Mrs. Ulyeva was not alone. Should that man be the one to become her husband? He looked a little young to me. The distinguished lady was around forty years old.

I didn’t know why she hadn’t married so far, but I wasn’t interested either. However, the charismatic man next to her who had been staring at me since entering the restaurant and carried me into his green gaze like polished emeralds until I arrived in front of them, did not seem to be the type to settle down as they say.

The closer I got to them, the more his hypnotic eyes paralyzed me. A mixture of musk and tobacco invaded my senses, and I inhaled so deeply that I simply got drunk on his aroma.

“Snap out of it Anya, he’s a mobster!” I shook my head, a few strands coming to my face and sticking to my lips. At that very moment, the man was looking insistently at them. A wave of heat flooded my entire body, and an inexplicable uneasiness took its place in a way I had never felt before. I didn’t even know if what I was feeling was fear or uncertainty.

“My dear Anya, you have arrived!” my client’s saving voice woke me from the trance created by that man. It was as if they tied me up with imaginary chains, frozen in his hypnotic gaze.

“I am sorry I arrived a little late. This fine gentleman here must be Iuri. It is a pleasure to meet you…”

If this was Iuri, her future husband, it needed to stop. But a wave of relief got over me when she revealed his true identity to me, or so I thought.

I barely inhaled a few times until the wonderful lady Ulyeva introduced us.

“My sweet child, Anya, let me introduce you to one of the strongest men on the weapons black market, Alexei Stepanov,” and leaning into my ear, she whispered to me with a hint of deliberate irony. “And your next customer! The stars say it’s his turn!” My eyes widened, and a slight sense of shame flooded me because I thought he was the future husband of the one in front of me. My cheeks have already turned the color of the young peony just in bloom.

His name sounded so familiar to me, so I breathed jerkily. I was still trying to keep up appearances and limit myself to the reason I had come to this meeting. He didn’t have to be here. He didn’t have to be that perfect. Like a gallant man, he held out his hand to me in courtesy. Now it was my turn. I was already supporting his penetrating and threatening gaze. Their emerald abyss got me lost, two deep fountains that held me captive. His gray blond hair stood in a sexy, sloppy way, and his thin lips arched into a charming smile that ripped me out of reality and threw me into an imaginary world dominated by his demon face. Otherwise, he was impeccable, his chiseled jawline of extraordinary masculinity, the perfectly tailored suit that sat impeccably on his body that stood out through the fine fabric. Only a rich imagination like mine could picture what lay beneath that lush fabric of wool and cashmere. Guilty sinful thoughts.

But his name, Alexei Stepanov, was the one that seemed frozen in time; a time of terror and loss; one who now demanded its tribute and who will eventually force me to do justice.