The Mafia Don’s little Con Artist

4 - The Offer

“A..job?” I stuttered. What kind of job could I possibly carry out for this man? I waited for him to explain the details before I attempted to refuse his offer as politely as possible.

Morozov nodded his head, confirming that I’d heard him correctly.

“I am in a particular predicament with my family. They want me to comply, you see.. but I am not ready or willing to accept the…arrangements they have made for me.” He spoke slowly, I’m sure to choose the best words to describe the situation without giving me unnecessary details. “The type of person I need for this job is complex, and their needed attributes would essentially be contradictory to each other.”

“Complex and contradictory in what way?” I dare ask.

Morozov smiles from the corner of his mouth.

“Someone who is familiar with the way our ‘families’ operate, while also not knowing too much. Someone who can conduct themselves appropriately in this world, while not getting sidetracked or distracted. Someone who has a perfect record of neutrality, with a loyalty I won’t have to question, and ..no risks of romantic attachments.”

“Such a person exists?” I scoffed. If he expects me to play matchmaker for him, he’s lost his mind. I worry about myself, and Liz. That’s it. I don’t know two shits about any other bachelorettes in the city.

“I was losing hope actually.” He replied. “Until I saw you.”

“Sorry, what?!” I choked. “Me?”

“Da.” He answered in Russian. I figured that out to mean ‘yes’.

Shaking the frazzled confusion from my face, I asked, “What exactly is this job?”

Morozov straightened his back, all trace of humor long gone and spoke clearly.

“For the next eight weeks, I need you to act as my fiancé, Sophia Collins.”

My silence wasn’t just stunned or confused anymore, now I was thinking, and thankfully he noticed. Several long moments went by that I was allowed to sort out my thoughts uninterrupted. I was almost certain I wouldn’t get much more information without agreeing to take the job first. So I thought it out.

Eight weeks is a very specific timeline. So there must be some sort of event or meeting he needs me to attend, otherwise simply claiming to have a fiancé would be enough. No, he needs physical proof. Thinking over the ‘attributes’ he mentioned before, I try not to be offended that I would pose no risk of a romantic attachment. Unless..maybe he swings the opposite way?

That’s a dangerous assumption.

A job, he said. That means he intends to pay me.

If I sign up for whatever bullshit job he gives me my life, as well as Liz’s, is going to be in even more danger.

However, if Liz and I don’t come up with an ungodly amount of money soon…we’re as good as dead anyway.

I lick my lips and bite on the lower one before willing myself to speak.

“$20,000.”

“Done.” Morozov agrees quickly.

“A week.” I add.

“Chto?!” He shouts and stands up in a hurry. “A week? Are you out of your little brain?!”

I fight the urge to smile at his outrage, something about it makes me happy.

“Respectfully, I must be. Every second I’m by your side I might die because of you. I don’t have much in this life, but I do have someone I need to protect. So I need to make sure that this job is worth it.”

He goes to speak, but I must have a death wish because I interrupt him, “Besides, that’s a drop in the bucket for you Mr. Morozov. You’ve done your research on me, a little nobody, so I’m sure my history wasn’t that difficult for you to dig up. I don’t know why you need a fake fiancé, but I have a good idea as to why you want me to play the role..”

I keep my chin up, and wait patiently for his response. To my surprise, he rubs his rough tattooed hand down his face and pinches the bridge of his nose tightly.

“Fine.” He grumbles.

I smile, and reward myself with a celebratory sip of some expensive alcohol. The drink slides smoothly down my throat, and sends a warm tingling through my chest. For a bartender, I’m really not one to drink, but hell will freeze over before I’m offered booze like this very often. So I sip it till it’s gone. Senses be damned.

“You start Sunday.” He notifies me.

“So soon?” I don’t know what I expected but less than two days wasn’t it.

“There’s a charity event you need to appear at. You have problem?” He asks with irritation.

I look down. “No. I just- I need to tell-“

“Your..roommate..yes?” He guesses awkwardly. Is he talking about Liz? I thought about correcting him, but if he doesn’t know our relationship and how close we are, maybe it’s for the best.

“Um yeah. I have to tell her-“

“No specifics.” He interrupts. Okay, I get I interrupted him once but geeze. “She only needs to know you work for me, you’ll live here for the time, and at the end-“

“Wait! I’m gunna live here?”

His beautiful emerald eyes narrow at me. Oh sure, he interrupts and it’s fine, I do it, and it’s a problem. We’ve already got bickering like a married couple down at least.

The booze in my system encourages me to cross my arms over my chest like a child.

“Okay.” I relent. It makes sense I guess. It would be suspicious if Mr. Morozov and his ‘intended’ weren’t living together.

“I’ll have Andre and Ivan take you home now.” Morozov informs me. “They will pick you back up tomorrow at 11pm sharp. Be ready.”

Well, that was fast. But I’m more than happy to get out of here before he changes his mind about me. This money could literally change our lives. I have to do this.

“Yes sir, Mr. Morozov.”

“Call me Aleks.” He instructs.

I just nodded my understanding.

Aleks presses a button on his desk and the two brawny men reenter the room and escort me out and back to the car.

I studied the men a bit more as we walked this time. Both sported high and tight fades with finger length hair on top, and well groomed short beards. Aside from their unique face scars they could be twins, almost.

“Are you two related?” I ask openly. That drink loosened me up a bit more than I thought. Perhaps because all I’d eaten today was a lousy overpriced salad.

The two share a look I can’t decipher before nodding, and one of them answers, “Da.”

“That means ‘yes’ right?”

The man to my left tries to hide a smile.

“Yes, Miss Collins.”

“Just Sophie is fine.” I say shyly. The formal addressing makes me feel weird.

“Which one of you is Andre?”

“I am Andre.” The man to my left says without even looking at me.

“Ivan is my brother.”

I look back and forth between the two of them and try to lock in this information. I’ve always been terrible at remembering names, and the alcohol in my system won’t be a help.

It’s just past 1am when I’m finally dropped off back at the apartment, and I’m relieved to find Liz fast asleep in our room. After the night I had, the last thing I was ready to do was explain everything to her right away. So I hop in the shower, change into my own comfy clothes and snuggle in beside my sister. Despite expecting another restless night, I keep my eyes closed in hopes that I’ll be able to sleep some.