74 - Questions

"A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes."

― Mark Twain

. . .

She was in my arms and finally, there was no frown on her face. We were in a hummer limousine now, not one that was registered with any of our names. It looked pretty beat up from the outside, but the interior was of the best kind.

I looked down at Olivia who was tucked to my chest, her fingers playing with my hand.

She was not angry anymore. But she kept asking questions. Causal ones which did not do much damage.

But it felt like she was asking the simple ones before she got to the big ones.

"High school?" She asked.

Ashton shook his head, closing the thick book he was reading. "We never went to high school."

Olivia eyed the book in his hands. "Sure." Ashton chuckled. "I taught myself. We all did."

"Why didn't you go to school?" She asked and my grip tightened on her for a second.

Xerxes met my eyes and then Ashton.

"Our childhood was...bad," I said and that was an understatement. She looked up at me, giving me her indicted attention. I was a sucker for her attention. "Our father wasn't a nice man."

"He was in the mafia?" He led it.

I nodded. "Second in command. Like it is now." "Oh," she said. "Did he...did he hurt you?"

She was definitely getting braver with her questions.

"Yes," Xerxes answered. He was the one who got the cruelty of our father the most. Ashton and I got Igor's cruelty - Alexi's father.

Olivia looked heartbroken. "Your mom? She didn't try to stop him?"

"Women in the mafia, Kitten..." I took her hand in mine. "Are not allowed to speak up in the matters of men."

She frowned. "That's bad."

I shrugged. "They don't prefer to indulge themselves in the business, either and women from the common world, like you, are rarely bought into the mafia. Marriages are normally done for strengthening the relationship between families."

"That sounds primitive," Olivia grumbled.

"It is," Ashton agreed. "But you know, shit happens a certain way, and changing traditions is something which takes time."

She set her head against my chest. "What was your mom's name?"

"Annalisa MacQuoid Creed," I answered. I really liked my mother's family, I just hated the damn last name which was our middle name. It didn't fucking suit. "She...she was a photographer."

"The photographs in your penthouse and offices!"

I hummed. "Some of them are mine. But most belong to our mother." "Some are yours?" She looked excited. "I want to see yours more." "As you wish." I kissed her.

"Is Michael the third in command?" Olivia asked. She didn't linger at questions much it felt like she had a mental list of the things we wanted to ask us.

Michael was second in command.

"He's just below us," Xerxes answered. "We met him when he and these two were eighteen." He nodded his head towards Ashton and me. Michael

was a brother. He had been there when we were on the run, trying to make alliances to bring our father down. Bad times.

"When did you find out about my father being with the Bratva?" She asked. "About five months back," I answered, knowing what was coming.

"Oh." She frowned. "If it was so well hidden, how did you find out?"

"We..." Ashton drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair. "We had our eyes on him."

"Why?" She questioned innocently.

Xerxes ran a hand through his hair. "Because...we had our eyes on you." She froze in my arms. "What?"

"The day in the cafe. When we first talked to you was not the first time we saw you," I answered, hoping she wouldn't try to get out of my arms. "The first time we saw you were on the first day of your college, at the same cafe."

She was silent.

"I know it sounds bad," Ashton said. "But we...we were mesmerized, Little one."

"Almost a year," she whispered. "You saw me almost a year before you talked to me?"

She thought we just saw her, got a little crush, left her alone, and then talked to her a year after.

That could not be farther than the truth. "Yes," Xerxes said.

"Why didn't you talk to me back then?" She inquired.

"Because..." I twirled a strand of her hair around my finger. "We thought you'd be scared."

"I was still scared of you three when you did talk to me." And for the right reasons. We were everything the rumors said that we were and worse.

"Do you think we should have approached you sooner?" Ashton asked. She shrugged. "I...I think I would have liked that."

Yeah but back then, we were fucked up. We sort of assembled our lives in a year and then, when we thought that we could at least try to be the men she could ever want, we approached her. Then, too, I had to push Xerxes and Ashton to talk to her. And then there she was, sweet and delicious, standing behind the counter and looking up st me with big brown eyes as if begging me to fuck her up.

I dug my nose into her neck, inhaling. She tensed in my arms, her breath heaving. "Zavier..."

"Not Zavier, love."

"Daddy," she whispered and I laid her down on the seat. Ashton and Xerxes sat back comfortably in their seats, watching Olivia with dark eyes as I undid the buttons of her shirt, looking her in the eyes as I did.

For a moment I was reminded of how we had found her when we heard her scream after her father left. She was sobbing, not able to breathe. It would have turned into a panic attack if we had not controlled it.

I kissed her cheek. "I'll take care of you, kitten." I pulled back. "Now kneel."

. . .