This story has some build up.
*****
As a kid, I had it all. My father always gave me everything I wanted as soon as he could get his hands on it. I remember wanting a car for my 16th birthday, knowing my father would get me something, but something not super flashy. On the morning of my 16th, he pulled up into the driveway with a brand new Bugatti La Voiture Noire.
We lived in a five-bedroom house, though it was only him, my mom and me living there (besides our pets). The other three bedrooms were for toys and offices. We had maids who came to clean up regularly. Despite that, I always had to keep my stuff clean. My father worked a lot, but my mom didn't have to. We lived more than comfortably.
We were never short on anything. There was always my favorite food in our double-wide fridge and new playthings on command.
My father treated my mother and me with the utmost respect, he still does to this day. My mother is his
"empress"
and
"prekrasnyy"
and I'm his
"baby girl"
and
"printsessa"
.
He always kept me separate from his work life. He never talked about business when I was around. If I came into the room when he was with a client he would stop talking or ask the client to pause so that he could see what I needed before shooing me away so he could work. He always said his two worlds shouldn't clash (me and work).
My father was also very adamant about not wanting me to be around boys, especially the sons of his clients and associates. My mother convinced him to let me go to school, but he would only allow a private school so the rules were more strict with clothing and interaction with peers.
My mother is a beautiful woman, and my father a very handsome man. My mother has long dark hair and chocolate brown eyes, with porcelain skin and amazing curves. My father has dark hair as well, with his eyes green. He's tall and built with tanned skin. Their names are Delia and Jacob Blaese
(blay-zee)
.
I got the best of my parent's features. I have wonderful curves and long dark hair like my mother and tanned skin with green eyes from my father. My name is Venera Blaese.
Right now, I'm at a private university studying law. Kind of ironic once I found out what my father does to make all of his money.
In March of this year, right after my 21st birthday, my father was arrested on numerous drug and murder charges, amongst other things. He asked me to visit him so he could explain himself.
"Printsessa, I need you to do something for me. A favor," he says. Even though he's lived in the states for 27 years, a slight Russian accent still lingers if one listens hard enough. I also have a very slight accent in some words because I was taught Russian before I was taught English.
"What's the favor, Papa?" I ask, leaning in so the guards can't hear.
"I need you to run my business while I'm gone. My lawyer will make sure none of the charges keep me here for more than three years, but I still need business to flow. Can you do that?"
"You mean the restaurant? You obviously aren't capable of doing what they say you did... right?" I ask cautiously.
He sighs, "I-I'm guilty of what they've said, baby girl. I've been doing this for a long time. The only reason I was caught was because of a client that couldn't keep his mouth shut. But don't worry, he's taken care of."
"Taken care of?"
"That's all you need to know for now. I'll send you to my second hand to help you get through the beginning of running my business, then by that time I'll have posted bail and I'll be able to tell you and show you what I haven't even told your mother."
"I never said I could do it," I state. I'm in law school, I can't be breaking the law.
"You're the only one who can. I've started setting up for you to take over, anyways. I'm getting older and I don't think I'll be able to keep up much longer and you're my heir. I am fifty-four after all," he smiles.
"I'm only twenty-one, and just barely. How am I supposed to uphold your legacy?" I feel my anxiety levels rise just thinking of me running something so dangerous. My Papa has protected me all my life, and now he wants to put me in danger?
"I know you can do it. I've known for years that you're now a strong woman. You're my only heir, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Printsessa, I know you're concerned about your career. But I know it'll only help you become more low key. I trust you," he whispers, looking at me closely.
"Papa..."
"Please."
"I..." I pause, "Only until you're back?"
"Only until. Then I can keep you safe from it for a few more years until you've graduated, but I'll need you to reign after that. Can you do it for me?" he asks.
"Yes."
--
There were some hiccups when my father tried to post bail, but by June he was out. And I was waiting for him.
His closest companion had taught me everything he knew in those few months. I hadn't studied for my classes as I should've, but my Papa needed me to be ready when he got out.
"Baby girl, there are PI's following my every move, so I'll have to only give you verbal directions in a random place for you to learn. I must be very careful about everything I do until charges are dropped."
"Yes, Papa."
We drive to a park and sit in the middle of a very large field. He gives me extensive lessons about what is needed and how to approach and deal with clients. He tells me I cannot write anything down, which proves to be very difficult when he asks if I remember certain things.
"What about if a client doesn't pay? Or goes back on a contract?" I ask carefully. His face drops and he looks at me intently.
"Raul will deal with those. Give him a name and there won't be a problem anymore," he responds. My face turns dark, realizing once again how scary this could be for me. I could get kidnapped and tortured... or worse.
"What if someone tries to go after me?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He reaches out and strokes my face lightly, "Printsessa, I'd never let anything happen to you. Many men are following us right now, just like the PI's, that will protect you. They have been protecting you all of your life. You're safe no matter where you are."
I look around, trying to spot who might be watching me. Fathers are playing with their children and mothers cutting up sandwiches for when they come running back for food. Joggers are focusing ahead and bicyclists riding past us quickly without a glance in our direction.
"Don't look around, it's no use and it's suspicious to those who aren't our friends. The people I hire to watch over you are the best of the best. They almost seem to have eyes in the back of their heads. They don't even need to look directly at you to make sure you're safe."
"Thank you, Papa."
"You're welcome. Now, let's go back home to your mother. I'm sure she has lots of food ready for us to devour," he chuckles and helps me stand up. We walk to his car, and he opens and shuts the door for me. He's always been a gentleman.
--
