Roman
My phone rings while I’m buttoning my shirt, showing my uncle’s name on the screen. The old boar normally likes to sleep till noon on Sundays. I know only one reason why he would be calling this early.
“What is it, Leonid?” I bark into the phone.
“I heard you brought a woman home. Is she still at the house?”
“This is my house, so it doesn’t concern you.”
“That means she is. You never bring your sluts home,” he says, and my body goes rigid.
“If I hear you call her that again, in front of me or anyone else, I’m going to slit your throat. Is that clear?”
“What the hell has gotten into you, Roman?”
“Have I been clear, Leonid?”
There is silence on the other side of the line before he answers, “Yes.”
“Good.” I cut the line.
I hate that man, but I can’t risk throwing him out, no
