Page 118 of Bleed with Me

“Okay.” I smiled at him. He kissed me again, on the mouth this time, and disappeared to save the world, or, in this case, the Bratva king.

The day moved torturously slowly without anyone to terrorize, poke fun at, or ride into oblivion. I ate, played the piano despite my ring finger protesting, took a long bath, and texted Dorian every five minutes demanding updates while ignoring my father and Sonny.

But Dorian didn’t reply, so eventually I called Lucas and begged him to find my man because I started to freak out that something terrible had happened to him.

“Dorian is at the Starlight,” Lucas reported after thirty excruciating minutes. “Didn’t you say he went to save someone?”

“I did,” I mumbled, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip.

Disconnecting the call, my mind worked overtime to understand why they would be in the center of Manhattan with a gunshot wound, which Karen refused to report. It didn’t make any sense.

The phone buzzing in my hand interrupted my thinking, and I looked at the screen.

Dad.

Since the party, I had fifteen missed calls and ten text messages from him, demanding a conversation, but I ignored them all. First, I wouldn’t waste time with Dorian for anything. And second, I wasn’t in the mood to listen to his preaching and demands. He only asked about the wedding and reminded me how fucked up our situation was.

However, considering the Kadyrov situation, I eventually decided to answer the call. What if some of my people pulled the trigger? It would’ve been a disaster. Our family wouldn’t have survived that.

“Yes?” I said, sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island.

“Finally,” Dad snarled, potent anger seeping through the phone. “Where the hell are you?”

“I’m arranging my future,” I replied, keeping the details for myself. “What do you need?”

“Your future will be destroyed if you don’t return to your fiancé,” Dad seethed. “What happened with Sonny at the party? Did he tell you anything?”

“Tell me anything,” I mumbled, frowning at the empty coffee mug. “Tell me what?”

“You need to—” he started, ignoring my question, but I cut him off.

“Tell me what, Dad?” I raised my voice.

“You have to come home, Nina,” he said much calmer. “Now.”

“No,” I stated firmly. “I’m meeting Zyon…”

“You’re not meeting anyone!” he snapped, my entire body going rigid. “I’m done playing nice. Return home! The wedding will happen ASAP.”

For a second, I was fourteen years old again, standing in my grandfather’s office while he decided my future for me. The old fear resurfaced, sharp enough to steal my breath. Loving him had never made him any less terrifying. But I wasn’t that girl anymore.

I stared at the phone, my thumb hovering over the red button.

“Nina!”

I didn’t react. Why should I? He wanted to sacrifice me without listening.

“Answer me, Nina!”

My teeth clashed together as I ended the call.

Did he tell you anything?

The question looped in my mind. Dad had spent weeks forcing this marriage down my throat. We’d screamed, argued, threatened. None of that was new. That fucking question was. The moment I asked what he meant, he refused to answer.

I slowly lowered the phone onto the counter.

What the hell was he hiding?