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He inhaled so that he didn’t say anything that would cause more harm than good and when he slowly exhaled, he turned and watched the whole charade.
This wasn’t the first time that his father had paid for a woman, but it was the first time that Mikhail had ever cared deeply enough to want to put a stop to it.
His father wanted the woman before him and he had a sneaky suspicion that he wanted her indefinitely. That didn’t bode well with Mikhail, because she was the woman that he needed.
His father in his dark grey three-piece suit, held his hand out for India who looked at it with disgust before she quickly schooled her features.
Her chest rose as she deeply inhaled and then she offered her hand, which his father snatched up with his much larger one. He brought it to his mouth and watched her response as he left a lingering kiss to the back of her hand. The hand that she held down at her side clenched into a tight fist between the folds of her white dress, while her gaze moved to his.
“How are you, my precious India?” his father spoke in a tone that left no room for objection. She was his and he knew it, which made him confident.
India shivered and kept silent.
“India,” her father snapped, causing her to jump backward, obviously using the unexpected sharp tone as an excuse to move away from his father.
“Mr. Vasiliev is talking to you.” Her father moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders—a move that Mikhail wished he could make, but as her protection. “You wanted adventure, India. So now you are going to have it,” her father announced.
It would be no adventure with his father, and Mikhail wished more than anything that he could snatch her away and run. They’d have to run far because his father’s reach wasn’t just within the States. It was certainly a thought . . . one that was becoming more appealing by the second as he watched India become more fearful, her father holding her tightly in place.
The thought that her father knew how much she wanted to run flittered through Mikhail’s mind, which was why he hardened his gaze and glared at the man who should be protecting his daughter—not selling her off.
“Enough!” his father growled. “Vincent, I thank you for our agreement, but now it is time for us to leave.” His father waved his hands around in a flourish . . . and then stilled, looking between India and him.
He didn’t think that India realized anything was wrong because he still felt her gaze caressing over his heated skin.
“Ah,” his father clicked his fingers in front of her face, “so it’s like that, huh?” He moved to the back of India and with just one look exchanged between father’s, her father moved away.
His own father placed his hands on her shoulders while he glared at him, and loudly whispered into India’s ear, “He’ll never be interested in you. He knows you’re mine. Whatever he has done or said before I arrived here was done to calm you before meeting me.”
The bastard!
Her eyes flickered to his while his father did his most to get rid of whatever trust Mikhail had built with her.
“He’s done it before,” the bastard continued. “But make no mistake, my son will never want you, or help you.”
He never knew that he could hate his father as much as he did right at that moment, but he did. His father had just given him the kick that he needed to leave, and when he did, it wouldn’t be alone.
His fathers eyes briefly widened in surprise when, for the first time, Mikhail let him see the anger rolling around inside of him. It felt like a giant volcano was bubbling in his stomach ready to explode. It had been a long time coming and he had years of built up anger saved for just the right moment. He was often angry with his father but never more so than right now as his father crossed to him, his nose inches from Mikhail’s, his face red with his own anger.
“This isn’t happening,” his father hissed. “You will travel in the first car and you will stay out of my way.” His father searched his gaze but found nothing but empty blackness. “Is that clear?” the question was spat at him, believing that he wouldn’t step completely out of line.
He forced himself to relax and act nonchalant because it was the only way to diffuse the volatile situation with India being within harms reach. So he would comply, for now.
Nodding, he smirked. “I’ll wait at the car.”
Without one glance at India, he turned and headed toward the front of the house. All the while he felt his hackles rising with his back being toward the father who would never have a problem stabbing him in it.
Chapter 5
The room that was to be India’s in the home of the Vasiliev’s wasn’t what she’d expected at all. Her mind had conjured up a dark and dreary place, more like a dungeon. Instead the room was large, airy, and
she felt like she’d stepped into the 1800’s France, Versailles even. Thick cream drapes edged in gold covered the windows. She guessed the wallpaper was one of a kind. It had neutral tones depicting nudes in sexual acts that were almost indecent but she found it erotic.
Padding softly across the room, she reached up and traced her fingertips over an embossed golden man and woman who were wrapped around each other. The man looked as though he cherished the woman, making her long for that. Just the thought brought her thoughts back around to Mikhail, even though they hadn’t been to far from him in the first place.
The standoff between him and his father had made her heart pound and the palms of her hands sweat in fear at what would happen next. When she’d heard Vasiliev’s words about Mikhail’s motivation behind the comfort that he’d offered, she’d been tempted to question them. The subtle shake of her father’s head had made her hold her tongue.
People thought that she was a shrinking violet because of her small frame, pale clear skin and blonde hair, except she was anything but. It gave her an advantage, which would be known when the time was right . . . and if Mikhail was to be believed, she had seven days to come up with a plan on how to leave. Because there was no way that she would ever willingly go to bed with Konstantine Vasiliev and he knew it too.
