I realize who Asher learned his granite-hard mask from. Lenin’s expression stonewalls my endeavor to unearth the truth as quickly as the varnish from my exchange with Asher fades from my face. I guess I should be grateful Asher waited for me to give myself to him instead of just taking what he paid for, but it still hurts. It hurts a lot.
* * *
Fifty minutes later, our car glides down the long driveway of the Yury compound. Kostya’s love of the gas pedal helped him trim ten minutes off his time. My heart is beating as erratically now as it did when we traveled this exact route six weeks ago. I want to cry, but I won’t. I’m not going to give them the satisfaction. I’ve known for a very long time that life isn’t fair. Tonight proves it without a doubt.
I stop peering at the twinkling lights of Moscow when Lenin murmurs, “Every corner of this property has motion-activated cameras, armed guards, and dogs trained to maul first, follow commands later. You won’t get far if you decide to run.”
“Run where, exactly?” My tone reeks of attitude. “Back to my father whosoldme? Or into the arms of the man whoboughtme?”
When Kostya pulls up to the curb, I throw open the door and slip out of the car. The wind is brutal, but I see it as a godsend. It’s so cold, it freezes my tears before they can glide down my face.
I don’t find the same refuge in my dungeon-like room. Tears slide down my face freely as I shred my dress from my body. By the time it sits tattered on the floor, my heart is just as shattered.
Chapter 24
Asher
Ithrow down the papers Matvei handed me an hour ago, my blood boiling. Just like my mother’s first disclosure was revealed as true, Bear’s confession tonight was also determined to be accurate. I thought he was just saying anything to stop me from killing him. I had no idea he was telling the truth.
Zariah was sold—fucking sold.If I were to believe the papers in front of me, I was the highest bidder in an auction that occurred the week before I returned to Russia.
Even with her auction being an invitation-only hour-long event, her sale notched up to half a million dollars rather quickly. For a standard sale, it’s an impressive figure. But for Zariah, the woman I had quivering beneath me only two hours ago, it’s not close to what she’s worth.
Thank fuck my mother stepped in when she did. If she hadn’t. . . I can’t comprehend it. I’m itching to kill someone as it is. Anyone. I want someone to die.
How could Zariah’s father do this? How could he sell his only daughter? He was a cruel, heartless leader just like my father, but he loved his wife. She was his sun, his light, yet he traded their daughter as if she’s a piece of fucking meat. And for what? A measly $500,000. He would have gotten more from me when we wed. Zariah will have access to over a billion dollars in assets and cash. Neither her or her family would have wanted for anything if they exerted a little bit of patience.
Now they will get nothing. Not a single fucking thing.
I slip into my car, slamming the door harder than I meant to. “Take me home.”
Usually, I’d drive, but I have so much adrenaline pumping through my veins, I don’t trust myself not to crash into a tree with the hope of simmering some of my rage.
Halfway there, I get a text from Lenin.
Lenin:Z is aware of her sale.
The knot in my gut tightens. How could Zariah know about her sale when I’m only just finding out?My fists clench as reality dawns:I’ve got a fucking snitch.
I punish my screen like I wish I could someone’s face to reply to Lenin’s text.
Me:Who told her?
I know Lenin would never be so stupid, so it had to be someone else.
I discover who when he replies.
Lenin: Kostya.
Of course it was. That fucker is the town gossip.
My eyes drop to the screen when another message pops up.
Lenin:Want me to take care of it?
My reply is as hard and fast as Kostya’s death is going to be.
Me:No.
