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“I’ve let you entertain this childish infatuation long enough.” He shook his head slowly and looked back at the fire, waiting a moment before he spoke again, as if he wanted to intensify the situation with his silence. “But no longer. You’ve been given away to Maximillian Turgenev.”
My stomach clenched painfully when my father uttered that name. I knew of Maximillian and his family. They were ruthless, vile, and evil, no empathy for anyone or anything. But then, I guess they fit in our world perfectly.
I was crying, silent tears that slid down my cheeks. I refused to make a sound. I hated that I cried in front of him, but it was unavoidable. “I love him,” I said again, barely a whisper. My father looked at me, and I wished I could say I saw a flicker of empathy cross his face. But I didn’t. He didn’t give anyone that, least of all his only child.
“You will be wed to Maximillian.”
I was shaking my head then, feeling stubbornness and rage, anger and hatred fill me. “You can’t make me do this. I’m an adult. I’ll leave; I’ll run away.”
He laughed softly then, not one ounce of humor laced in that tone.
I felt his evilness down to my very marrow, felt that noise swirling and churning around in my belly until acid rose in my throat.
“You’ll do what I say, or the boy will die.” His expression was sober now, his tone brokering no argument. “Do you understand what I say, Nadja?”
Oh, I knew.
My throat tightened as I nodded slowly.
“You’ll do what I say, and you’ll do it without complaint, or I will gut that boy from navel to throat.” He gave me a sadistic grin. “You can’t run. You can’t hide. I will always find you. So if you want that boy to live, if you love him as deeply as you say you do, then you’ll be wise, girl.”
A choked sob left me, and I hated that I couldn’t control it, but the very thought of my father hurting Frankie simply because he didn’t want us together, simply because he wanted to control my life, had pain unlike anything else I’d ever felt consuming me.
My father was evil, soulless, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“How you must hate me,” I finally said. He couldn’t feel any other way toward me for him to be so cruel.
He was silent for long moments. “You’re of my flesh and blood, daughter,” he spoke in Russian. “There is no hatred. If I cared nothing for you, I’d have fed you to the wolves long before now.” He shifted on the chair to face me more. “But business comes before your happiness.”
“I’d give anything to be with Frankie.” I didn’t care if it sounded like I was pleading, begging. “Please don’t take away the one thing that makes me happy.”
Still, his face was emotionless. He didn’t care about anything but power.
“Nadia, weakness only creates vulnerabilities. You know your place. Accept it. Embrace it.”
I swiped at my tears and felt my rage grow. “I hate you,” I whispered.
He stared into my eyes for a prolonged moment. “Hate me all you want, girl. Makes no difference as long as you know your place and follow my law. And that law is you’ll do what I say, or I’ll take that boy from you as easily as drawing in a breath.” He dismissed me with a wave of his hand, as if I were nothing but a bug, a gnat he wanted gone.
I left, my body numb. I had no choice, not if I wanted Frankie alive. This was my own fault, allowing my heart to open for someone, allowing my body to crave them.
I wanted to be with Frankie, but that would only hurt him, snuff out his life. And it would be my fault.
I couldn’t run. We couldn’t run away. My father would find me anywhere. No corner, no dark place could hide us from his reach. And so I only had one option.
Leave Frankie in order to save his life.
4
Frankie
Present day
Hollowness. That’s what I felt. That’s what my life was. It was an endless cycle of back-alley fighting, being a professional fucking thief, and watching each one of my brothers drop like flies in the name of falling in love.
I sat on the couch with nothing but a layer of sweats on, staring at the TV that wasn’t even on, my sixth beer nearly empty. I brought it to my mouth and finished it off. The buzz I had going on was the only thing making everything fucking bearable.
My brothers and their women. Fuck, they had something I had once.
Once upon a long fucking time ago.
I reached for another beer and cracked it open.
I thought about my brothers and how they were happy now. I was glad for them. They deserved to have strong, good women by their sides.
