Bound to the Bratva (Owned by the Mafia #1)

Chapter 1

One

Aria

There aren't many days where I can relay amazing news to a patient's family, but today I can. Christmas is coming up in a couple of days and this is the perfect gift for them. I only wish I could be giving more patients and their families the same great news.

The phone rings four times before Sam's mother finally answers. "Hello?" There's obvious concern in her voice. I'm three days late on making calls, especially to patients who are receiving good news. I tend to call the patients who need my help quicker than the ones who are doing well.

"Hello Mrs. Jackson, it's Dr. Zuyev. Is now a good time?" I try to sound as calm as I can, only wanting to reassure her, but there's a sense of urgency in my voice.

"Yes, it's as good a time as any. What sort of news do you have, Dr. Zuyev?" There's undeniable fear in her tone, just like all of the other parents of my patients. She's wondering if her child is getting sicker, or if he's getting better.

I take a deep breath before I say anything else. This news is going to be life changing for everyone in her family. She's only ever received bad news from me, so in the back of my mind, I'm sure she's naturally expecting it to be bad.

I swallow hard and prepare to tell her the greatest news she's heard thus far. "The last round of chemo worked phenomenally, and I don't see any cancer in his scans. I've personally looked at it three separate times, wanting to be sure."

She lets out a gut-wrenching sob on the other end of the phone, voice shaky and trembling. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yes, Sam is cancer free. He's in remission," I smile widely as I tell her. Joy and relief wash through me as I say the words for the first time.

"He's in remission," she repeats, voice still shaking.

"Yes," I confirm.

"What do we do now?"

I smile, happily going over what our next steps will be.

"As of right now, I'm going to let my team know to reach out so we can get Sam's port removed.

You'll come back every three months for a PET scan just to make sure nothing has come back.

If everything's in the clear, after two years he'll only need a PET scan once a year. "

"I can't believe this," Mrs. Jackson had a horrible time with Sam being diagnosed, and her life completely fell apart.

She was married to Sam's father, and he seemed nice at first. But, he wasn't the man he appeared to be.

After four rounds of chemo, he walked out on Sam and his mother, saying he couldn't deal with it.

She was an absolute wreck and I remember when he sent her a text message relaying the news. She was in Sam's room at the hospital and was crying quietly. I couldn't refrain from asking if she was okay, and then she told me what happened.

Sadly, it's not the first time a woman has been left to deal with her sick child. Many men leave because they can't handle their kid being sick, and it's very seldom I see men sticking around every step of the way, even if it is what they should be doing.

I've worked in pediatric oncology since earlier this year. I might only be twenty-four, but through those years I've accomplished so much. I graduated high school when I was fourteen, began my pre-medical program by the time I was fifteen, and graduated with a 4.0 GPA when I was seventeen.

I took a year off from seventeen to eighteen and was accepted into Harvard's Medical School, where I tore through their curriculum and graduated early. I passed every test they put in front of me with flying colors, and I'm now a resident at one of Chicago's busiest hospitals.

"Thank you so much for calling me, Dr. Zuyev. I can't wait to tell Sam!"

Mrs. Jackson and I chat for a couple of minutes longer and then hang up the phone. I pack up my office, gathering my coffee cup, laptop, phone and, notebook. As I'm putting everything in my bag, my phone begins ringing.

I glance at the caller ID and see that it's my father calling.

A mix of surprise and curiosity fills me, as it's unusual for him to call unless it's a major holiday or my birthday.

Figuring I should find out what he's calling about, I know I'm going to answer the call.

With a swipe of my finger, I press the phone to my ear.

"Hey, Dad," I greet him, keeping my voice relaxed. I don't want him thinking I'm overly excited to be hearing from him. He was never involved much in my childhood, so we're not very close.

"Hey Aria, how are things going?" His thick Russian accent radiates through the phone.

I almost smile to myself, feeling like he could actually be interested in how life has been for me lately. I haven't heard from him in probably three months. "Good, nothing I can complain too much about. How are things with you?"

"Good. I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner tonight,"

I'm trying to think of any excuse I could use to get out of it, but I don't have any excuse that could work right now. "It's a little last minute," my reply is the best thing I can come up with in the short term.

"I know, but I'm in the mood to see my daughter."

I scoff, unable to hold back my sudden annoyance. "Ironic, considering you never wanted to see me when I was a kid."

He sighs heavily, "When will you let me off the hook? Things were complicated back then, Aria. Your mother was insistent on keeping you away from Tatiana and your siblings,"

Tatiana, my father's wife. My mother was his mistress, determined to rip his family apart. She thought she'd be successful in her endeavors, but she was sorely mistaken.

If I'm being honest, I don't know if I'll ever forgive him for being such an absent father. I'm not a horrible person. I understand my mother put him in an impossible situation, but that shouldn't affect me at all.

He should have been there.

He should have made it a point to show up and get to know me.

He didn't. Instead, he left me to navigate the chaos that was my home life by myself.

It was always me, my brother, and my mother.

Her parents--high born Russians–disowned her when she announced she was pregnant with Nikolai Zuyev's child, my older brother, Sasha.

They knew he was married, and tried to get my mother to abort him.

I'm glad they weren't successful in their endeavor. I don’t want to imagine what my life would have been like without my older brother.

Ever since I was born, it's always been me, my brother, and my mother. My father paid for everything and we never had to struggle, but that doesn't mean we didn't have our tough times.

I grew up fast, faster than I should have, but I came to realize that's the price you pay for being a Russian gangster's daughter. His only daughter. I have three half-brothers and one full-blooded brother.

As a child, I took on the responsibilities of an adult at a fairly young age.

It became a survival instinct after I was almost assassinated when I was nine.

I guess in a way I used it to protect myself.

I felt like it was better to be conscious and aware of the situation, rather than not pay attention because I was a kid.

Now, here I am, standing in my office at the hospital, trying not to let my hurt feelings from the past take over me.

A part of me wants to shoot him down and say it's too late, that I don't owe him anything and I won't be going to dinner with him.

While the other part of me wants to sit down and talk to him, to get long awaited answers to the questions I've never had the opportunity to ask.

I know there's so much I should probably forgive him for, but it hurts. He chose to prioritize his other family over us. I can understand picking Tatiana over my mother. She's his wife. Mom was his mistress...but there is absolutely no excuse for never being there for me and Sasha.

Sure, he was there financially, but that's bullshit. You can't buy your child's love.

I don't know about Sasha, but the fact he prioritized his other family made me feel like I wasn't loved. I was an afterthought, a chain tying him down, a reminder of a grave mistake he made being with my mother. By the time I was born, my father and mother were no longer in a relationship.

I take in a deep breath, trying not to be bitter, but it's fucking hard. Maybe tonight could be the night where I can give him a chance. Maybe, just maybe, tonight I can get some long awaited answers.

"Okay," I finally answer him. "When and where? I'm getting ready to leave the hospital for the day as we speak."

There's a brief moment of silence on the other end of the line. "How about in an hour? Come to Antonio's." I almost laugh. How ironic is it that Russians are going to an Italian joint?

"Sounds good. I'll see you then,"

My father and I say our goodbyes and just as we end the call, I'm calling my brother. Or rather, the only brother I have a relationship with--Sasha.

He doesn't answer at all, so I blow up his phone with text messages. I send each of them individually, hoping the influx of notifications will force him to call me quicker.

To: Sasha

CALL ME BACK.

911.

Not kidding!

You're a shit brother if you ignore me right now, asshole!

Within five minutes I'm getting a call back from him. "Fuck, Aria. What's going on with you?"

"You are going to lose it when I tell you," I start off, leaving my office and locking the door behind me. I make my way through the hallways of the hospital, waving my goodbyes for the day as I speak to Sasha. "Dad called me."

"That's odd, considering it's not your birthday or an important holiday." Sasha was given the same treatment as I was growing up, even though he's not a woman. Sadly, women are treated quite a bit differently than men are.

"I know, right? He wants me to go have dinner with him in an hour, at Antonio's."

"Hmm, that's odd. He only takes us out for our birthdays, or around Christmas. Maybe it's your Christmas visit with him?"