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Mario’s eyes widened at the same time my papa’s did. Women had many rules and restrictions in this suffocating organization, and the summary of those rules was: thou shall not do anything unladylike. Ladylike by the men’s standard was women simply being robots and baby-popping machines. So, I understood where their shock came from as I cursed. After all, it had probably been two centuries or more since they heard a woman speak foully.
“Did you hear me, Papa?” I asked, hearing the cracking of my voice as it rang in my ears. “Kill me, do whatever you must, but do not force me into a marriage with a man who is almost three times my age.” I paused and waited for a response from my father. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting but any reaction at all would be better than the grave silence in the dining room as two pairs of stunned and furious eyes glued themselves on me.
Mario must have overcome his initial shock because after what seemed like an eternity, he started towards me. “You need to be taught some manners, bitch.” He raised his hands at me but ceased to carry out his intentions of slapping me when my papa called his name.
“She is not yours yet, Mario,” my papa said with a tone calmer than the ocean. “I will handle my daughter myself.” It felt like my papa was coming to my defense, right? Wrong. Truth is, I’d have preferred to be stroked and starved, but with his silence, I knew a hurricane was forming.
He walked out of the dining room without giving me as much as a glance. I went and sank onto one of the dining chairs, hoping Mario would not hear the way my heart was pounding in my chest as my brain rummaged through a million thoughts of what my papa would do if he returned.
The door creaked open again immediately. Enzo and a few other of my papa’s men were with him. My eyes trailed to Enzo’s hand; he was holding a whip that looked like it had just been borrowed from a stable.
Fear gripped me. What was he going to do with that? Was he going to whip me? My palms were sweaty, my legs were weak, and my feet became sore all over. “Papa—” Enzo and two more of my papa’s men held me tight and bent me over the dining table, steadying me as my papa used the whip on my back. One, two, three, four… fifty. I didn’t remember much of what happened afterward.
My back was throbbing with pain, my tears were threatening to fall without my permission, and whatever was left of my heart, of the love I had for the man who was supposed to be my father, vanished.
I bit back every pain I was feeling and glared at my father through misty eyes, but only met darkness, hatred, and anger. There was no remorse. My papa liked to think his biggest enemy was Andrei, but it wasn’t. It was remorse that was his truest rival.
And then I glanced at Mario. His eyes had perverted amusement and his teeth flashed yellow as he laughed. His wild laughter rang in my ears even as I turned away and limped up the stairs leading to my bedroom, until I entered my room and shut the door behind me.
Darkness almost clouded my room, save for the slash of moonlight that shone through my window like a silver sword. I didn’t want moonlight or any light at all; it was best to remain in the dark, thinking what I’d been thinking for twenty-one years, feeling the same I’d felt on days like this for twenty-one years. Panicking. I need to escape.
Sweat suddenly started dripping down my forehead, chills crept up my spine and my heart started to drum, pounding as if it needed the nearest exit from my chest, the same way I needed to exit this world—this house. I need to escape. I clutched my throat as my room suddenly felt too tight, leaving me breathless. I need to escape, that was all I could think. My panic attacks were always bad, but why the hell was I knotting my bed cover around my window?
Why the hell was I climbing down from my room?
Where was I going?
I kept walking down the dark deserted road, barefooted, with pain shooting all over my back, breathless, and with tears clouding my sight. Fuck.
I reached the busy roads, and then I saw the glittering pink and blue signboard that said, “Levov Night Club.”
Why the fuck was I here? Why did I keep walking till I entered the crowd that smelt like sweat and alcohol?
Blue.
Blue eyes stared at me from the crowd.
Those blue eyes belonged to my enemy, Andrei Levov.
Chapter 5 - Andrei
The first thing I noticed was the way the tips of her hair made contact with her shoulder. Most men liked women with long hair, but I liked mine to be distinct—short hair with smoky eyes was my kink. And that was exactly how she looked when she walked into my club, fearlessly.
Adrienne Paolo didn’t strike me as a woman who would be stupid enough to walk into a den of vipers, so there could be only two reasons she would do so.
One: this was a fucking trap, probably set up by Dante Paolo.
Two: she was actually stupid.
I preferred to go with the first option because the second wasn’t only very unlikely, but it was safer never to underestimate your enemies. And as it seemed, I had more enemies than friends.
Our gazes were locked on each other, hers cautious, mine observing. Her gray eyes glittered something sad in the disco lights, her lashes were wet, her black mascara smeared beneath her eyes. She looked nothing like she did when I first met her a week ago. I supposed this is what it meant when people said someone was a ghost of themselves.
I let my eyes trail briefly to her feet, and that was when I noticed she was barefooted. Dimitri had a gun to her forehead before I could take my eyes away from her bare feet. He looked at me and I nodded at him, my signal for him to take her inside my office. He lowered his gun behind her waist. I wasn’t the type of guy to give a fuck about what body part of a woman was touched but I kept my cool and followed them as they walked to my office at the V.I.P. section.
Dim warm white light replaced the previous blue, red, and green as the three of us entered the office. Dimitri and Adrienne halted in front of my mahogany desk, and I walked past them and sat on my black-leather swivel chair before scrutinizing Adrienne some more. I thought to add one more option to the other two I’d stated. Three: she needs something from me.
Although that was very likely the reason why she came here looking so tattered and homeless, I still had to take necessary precautions. A Paolo was never to be trusted, especially not one who seduced men to their deaths.
