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1
Lilyana
He’s going to hurt me. I see it in his eyes.
“Please don’t do this,” I say. “I told you—I’m tired. I just wanna sleep.”
I rattle the passenger door handle, but it’s futile; Seb has already locked us in his car. He stuck to seltzers because he was driving, and it never occurred to me he might have a more sinister motive for plying me with champagne. After many months of polite ‘goodnights’ at the door, he’s had enough.
Hot tears burn my cheeks, and as he reaches for me, I find a scrap of courage and kick out at him. He responds by shoving me hard against the door, smashing my head into the window.
“You’re a mess,” he sneers, tearing my dress as I twist away from his hands. “Who else would put up with you?” He drags me onto his lap, his hand under my skirt. “I get that you’re stupid, but do you believe your pussy is some kind of precious treasure?”
Seb’s erection pokes into my stomach, and he attempts to free it, but he’s not strong enough to hold me, and I squirm out of his grasp. My initial panic is receding, and I manage to scream.
“Shut up!” He tries to slap me into silence, but I dodge him, my hand pumping the door handle again to no avail. He’s on top of me now, pushing me into the footwell but keeping my shoulders and head between his knees. My hands are pinned to the seat beneath him, and I can do nothing. As he fumbles for his zipper, I’m hit by a tidal wave of exhausted resignation.
I wish I could fight, but I don’t have it in me. I’m a bratva princess, which is supposed to come with a certain grit etched into my bones, but I don’t know how to stand up for myself. This is going to happen.
I lived a reclusive life for years, and it felt so good when I started to grow past all that. I’m still naive in many ways, but Juilliard was a dream come true.
Seb seemed mysterious and sophisticated at first, but the signs were there. At twenty-five, he’s only two years older than me, yet he never matured beyond his high school mentality. I thought we were friends and even defended him when people said he wanted more.
I told him all about my life: my mother’s death shortly after I was born, the fall that led to my brain injury and mild learning delay. The abuse and neglect my father heaped on me. His insistence that I was good for nothing.
“How can you do this?” I ask.
Seb grins at my tear-streaked face. “Try being more guarded next time. You handed your vulnerabilities to me on a plate. A dumb bitch like you deserves everything she gets.”
So much for honesty being the best policy. Seb knew my wounds and, therefore, how to manipulate me. For my part, I was so desperate to be in a relationship that I disregarded the parade of red flags he marched before me and ignored his attitude because I was grateful for the attention. I never considered he might hurt me.
A man in my life would be here to protect me if I’d told him the truth about my plans this evening. I chose to lie, and he trusted me. Now, there’s no one to come to my rescue.
More fool me. How could Seb be anything other than an asshole? No decent man would want me for the person I am.
Glass flies everywhere as the driver’s window smashes inward, destroyed by a man’s fist. Seb barely registers what’s happening before he’s dragged out of the car and dumped on the concrete. He yells in panic, only to be silenced by the stomp of a boot.
My savior leaves Seb rolling on the ground and walks to my door. He leans down and taps on the window, pointing past me. “Unlock it and get out,” he says.
Arman. My bodyguard. My protector. The man who infiltrates my thoughts on those lonely nights when my bed feels too big and my world too small.
Last I knew, he was going on a date, and only because I swore up and down I’d stay home and have a bath. So what is he doing here?
I do as he told me, getting out of the car to see him turn away and grab Seb by his collar, holding him aloft. Seb’s toes reach for the ground, but there’s a foot of clearance; he can do nothing but hang there like a worm on a hook.
“You dirty little cunt,” Arman says, his voice a deep rumble of fury. “I knew you’d do something like this to her.”
2
One hour earlier…
Arman
I’m always watching.
Lilyana lives with her big brother Vlad and his family at the Kislev bratva’s mansion. She wanted her peace tonight, and I would never deny her that, but with no one in the house, I couldn’t risk leaving her alone. So I parked outside, content to listen to music and wait for the blaze of Lilyana’s bedroom light to go out.
I’ve often been tempted to have a private chat with Seb. Take him aside and let him know he’d better not entertain the idea of making a move on her if he wanted to keep his skull intact. I never did it because I was holding out for an excuse to mess him up.
