Page 88 of His Stolen Bride

Vladimir notices anyway. “Ah,” he says. “There it is. You remember that city. You hid there for years.”

I lift my eyes. “I didn’t hide. I survived.”

“You hid,” he insists. “Survival is hiding with better branding.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Trieste is useful,” he says. “It’s small, it’s busy, it’s polite. People pretend they don’t hear accents. People pretend they don’t see cash. But it’s still a port, and ports don’t forget. Someone always watches the docks.”

My fingers press together harder in my lap. He’s saying it because he wants me to know he knows.

I nod slowly. “So the debt was about a shipment.”

“And an insult,” Vladimir says. “Insults matter more.”

“Because you’re proud,” I say, soft enough to pass as an observation.

He laughs. “Because I’m alive.”

He reaches out and tips my chin up again. His touch is light. Familiar. Practiced.

“Look at me,” he says.

I do.

“You know why your mother died?” he says.

My stomach drops. I keep my eyes steady. “Because my father betrayed you.”

“No,” Vladimir replies. “Because your whole family betrayed me. She knew about the contract too.”

My throat feels dry, and I tremble for real as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. If Mother knew about the deal with Vladimir, the only reason she talked me into marrying Mikhail was she believed he was the lesser evil of the two. She protected me till her last breath. “You removed her because she went along with my marriage to Mikhail,” I murmur.

“Very good,” he approves, clapping his hands with a mocking smile etched on his mouth. My nails dig into skin. I let my breath shake. He watches the shake like it’s entertainment.

“Your father didn’t deserve a soft ending either,” Vladimir adds. “But he got one. He got a quick death. That was my generosity.”

I swallow again, slowly. The capsule presses. Good. Stay there.

“You’re shaking,” he says.

“I’m angry,” I reply coolly.

He smiles wider. “Anger looks good on you. It makes you feel alive. It also makes you reckless. Don’t be reckless.”

I tilt my head slightly. “What do you want from me today?”

Vladimir pauses like he’s savoring the fact that I asked it that way. “I want the truth,” he says. “I want to hear you say you understand.”

“I understand,” I say.

“Say what you understand,” he presses.

I keep my voice low and flat. “My father promised me to you. He promised me to Sergei too. You removed Sergei. Mikhail took me anyway. You’re here to collect what you believe is yours.”

Vladimir’s eyes gleam. “Better.”

He leans back and crosses one ankle over the other. “Now we talk politics.”

I keep my expression blank, but my pulse spikes. That’s what I need.