6. Soren
C ristian Amato is nothing like I expected, though my uncle did warn me about that. Kind of. He said the Amatos did things… differently , and he wasn’t kidding.
As I follow the mafia Boss out of his office and through a different hall, I can’t help but wonder what exactly I have gotten myself into.
The office I’m led to is more a private medical room than anything, and I’m slightly impressed by the set up. There are two beds, an examination table, and various other pieces of medical equipment. Cabinets along one wall seem to be filled to the brim with supplies, and there’s a sink and counter on another wall, with drawers and a cabinet that I’m assuming contains other things one might need in an emergency.
There’s a man who I assume to be the mysterious Dr. Wescott sitting on one of the hospital beds. He looks up from the tablet in his hands when we enter the room.
“This my new victim?” he asks.
Cristian shakes his head. “You promised to be nice.”
Dr. Wescott grins. “That was me being nice. This was your idea, not mine.” He hops off the bed and comes over to me, holding out the tablet. “What do you make of this?”
I take a look at the photos for a long moment before looking up at the two men. “It looks like a healing amputation, but this is a hand, not a leg, and unless we were ill informed, I’m here to replace someone because of a lost leg.”
“Yes to all that,” Wescott says. “This is the residual limb of Georgio De Luca, who sadly lost his hand instead of his head. I was hoping you could see the start of an infection—maybe gangrene—that my assistant and I missed during our examination, but alas, I guess not.”
I blink and look from the doctor to the mafia Boss. Cristian must read the ‘is this guy for real’ look on my face because he grins, a lightness in his dark eyes that wasn’t there before.
“I think you two are going to get on well. Soren, come see me before you leave today and I’ll get you set up with all your employment paperwork.” With that, the asshole leaves me alone with the doctor, who is looking at me like I’m something he wants to study under a microscope.
“It’s nice to meet you, Dr. Wescott,” I say, trying to get past the awkwardness and move this introduction along. “I’m Soren Knightly.”
“Doc, I go by Doc, not my name. Knightly? I thought you were Petrov’s nephew.”
“I am, but I don’t use my family name, for obvious reasons.”
He stares at me with a quirk of a brow, his cognac colored eyes intense. “No, I don’t think they are. Obvious, I mean.”
“I am a shorter than average, too pretty for my own good, gay man, Doc.” I can’t help but snap. “The Amatos may not have a problem with queers, considering who your Boss is, but that doesn’t mean the Russians have the same ideals. My uncle is trying to shield me from the fact that my own father will cut out my heart—literally—if he ever knew I liked to stick my dick in a man’s ass rather than a woman’s vagina. That clear enough for you?”
I cringe as soon as I figure out how to close my mouth. Can it even count as being fired if I was only barely hired?
Instead of being upset or insulted, Doc laughs. “Oh, I like you. You’ll fit in well.” Before I can wrap my head around his words, he bulldozes his way forward.
“I’m Doc, though I said that already. Please don’t ever call me anything but Doc. You are mine now, and that means you’ll want for nothing—monetarily and emotionally. We take care of our own here. Say the word and we’ll make it happen. Yes, this is a job, but the main Family couldn’t do theirs without us, and we wouldn’t be here without them. It’s a mutually beneficial endeavor here.
“You’re free to speak your mind, but know any decision I or Cristian makes is final. You’ll show respect, and in return, you’ll get respect. I’m not a demanding boss, but I do expect you to take this seriously and know we’re playing with life and death here. Understood?”
“Yes. And I’m sorry, I let my temper get away from me. Sometimes I’m too much like my father. It’s why I use my mother’s name when I can. I changed my surname when I turned eighteen, so legally, I am Soren Knightly, though I was born Soren Petrov. I came here to get away from that part of my identity, because I couldn’t be myself. You don’t want to be called by your birth name? Same here.”
Doc nods. “Valid. Now, let’s go.”
“Where?”
“I have appointments at the clinic we run. You’ll be shadowing me.”
“I wasn’t aware of that.”
Doc smiles. “Always expect the unexpected in this Family. Now, come, you don’t want to be late on your first day. Some of the people we have appointments with will be in charge of keeping you alive while working here.”
Great. Just…great. Well, I wanted something that was different from the oppression of my birthright… Looks like I sure as fuck found it.