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I’m certain my mother heard that, but if she did, she doesn’t say a word. We both know what my father gets up to outside his marriage bed.
“She is not my mistress,” I growl, yanking my shoulder from his grip. “She’s more than that.”
A hard blow comes down across my jaw, knocking me to the ground. My ears are ringing, and I lift my hand to touch my throbbing lip. I bring my fingers in front of my face, and my blurry hands are covered in crimson.
“You cannot give your power to a woman!” my father shouts, standing above me. His voice is distant given how close he is, but the ringing is drowning him out. “You will marry who I choose for you. You will marry a fellow Russian. End of discussion.”
“You mean a fellow Andarusian.”
His brows furrow. “What?”
I let out a weak chuckle. “We’re Andarusian, not Russian. Or have you forgotten?”
He delivers a swift kick to my side, and I feel my ribs cracking. All the air rushes from my lungs, leaving me gasping and groaning.
“You insolent fool! If Russia found out about your entanglement with the American girl, it would be disastrous, not just for your future regime, but mine.”
“I don’t want it,” I say. “Pick someone else to follow in your wretched footsteps.”
I look up at my father, whose face is twisted in rage. He’s on the verge of exploding, and his entire body is shaking with fury.
“Do your worst,” I say before spitting blood onto the carpet.
“Guards!”
Fire flashes in his eyes as he stares down at me, and the corner of his lips curl up. Whatever he has in store for me will be hell, and he’ll relish every second of my punishment.
But it won’t compare to the pain of losing Willow.
I will endure this, and I will plan my escape. Flee the country before he revokes my passport.
Two guards burst into the room, ready to spring into action, but they pause at the sight of me on the floor, blood gushing from my lip as my father stands over me.
“Sir, what happened?” one of them asks.
“I need you to help me teach my son a lesson. Pick him up.”
They look at one another, hesitation clear on their faces. My father doesn’t involve the staff in these matters, so he must have something truly unique planned.
The guards approach, each grabbing an arm to haul me to my feet.
“Pull his pants down,” my father says. He begins to fiddle with his belt, and when the buckle is undone, he whips it out with a sharp snap. Twisting it into a single loop, he slaps the leather against his palm with a sickening sound.
One of the guards holds my hands around my back while the other starts to unzip the front of my pants.
“Are you going to suck my cock before or after sucking off my father?” I hiss at him. He refuses to meet my gaze.
My father addresses my mother without bothering to look at her. “Olga, you are dismissed.”
Out of the corner of my eye, she hesitates.
“Mat’,” I whisper. “Will you let him do this to me?”
I know the answer already, but I can’t help myself. She knows my father’s violence, but she chooses to turn a blind eye to it.
Tonight is no exception.
She strides past me without a word, through the open doors into the hallway. Reaching behind her, the gap of light between the panels disappears as she pulls them closed.
