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One Day Later
"Is the show starting?" Stefan asks, waltzing into my office.
I turn around and see him munching on a bowl of popcorn. "Are you serious with that?"
He shrugs. "What? If all we're going to do is watch security footage, we might as well make an event out of it."
As soon as he’s in range, I swat the bowl out of his hand. An avalanche of popcorn spills across the carpet.
"She's right—you are an asshole," Stefan grumbles. “Looks like I’m joining the hunger strike, too.”
I turn away from him. On screen, Emery walks out of the bathroom and flops down on the bed.
"She could have eaten. I sent her food. But she decided to throw the tray of food and attack my staff," I say.
“She attacked Nikki,” Stefan clarifies. “I don’t blame her. Nikki is annoying.”
I glance over at him. “She still making puppy dog eyes at you?”
“Fuck a woman once, and they’re on you like a tattoo,” he complains. “I’m gonna have to go join a monastery or something before she leaves me alone.”
“I wouldn’t mind you taking a vow of silence.”
Stefan cackles. “Oh, please—you’d miss my quick wit and effervescent charm.”
I don’t dignify that with a response.
We fall into silence for a few beats before Stefan speaks up again. "How much longer are you going to starve her?"
I look back at him, eyebrow raised. "Are you having an attack of conscience?"
"No. But a dead fiancée doesn't make you don. Your dad wants a live one. And Isabella—"
I snap my fingers. "Ah, there it is. You're worried about the little girl."
"Aren't you?"
I wave him off. "She's fine. Children are resilient."
And she is. They are. I have a team of maids keeping Isabella cared for, Stefan has been racing go-karts with her in every spare moment he can get, and she, unlike her mother, has been eating well. It’s the best era of her whole cursed life.
"She's been asking about Emery," Stefan remarks. "A lot. She misses her."
"Maybe someone should tell Emery that. Because as soon as she decides to listen to me, I'll let her out."
“That easy, huh?”
I shrug. “Yasha says she isn’t working with the Volandris. So, yeah. That easy.”
I turn back to the monitor. Emery is staring at the door that leads into what used to be Isabella's room. I moved her to another part of the house yesterday and locked it down.
For the first twelve hours in captivity, Emery was a she-devil. Pounding on the door and screaming her daughter’s name.
Now, twenty-four hours in, she's gone deathly quiet. Deathly still.
Someone more naïve might believe the fight has gone out of her. But I know Emery better than that.
"What's that about?" Stefan asks.
"What?"
He reaches around me and points to the camera view of the hallway outside Emery's room. There's movement.
I frown. "I didn't instruct anyone to check on her. There shouldn't be—"
The person in question turns, and I get a clear shot of their face.
Rurik.
The young soldier knocks on the door before opening it with his key.
I look back at the other camera angle to see Emery is standing now, facing the door. Her room has been emptied of anything she could use as a potential weapon, so she has nothing but her clenched fists.
But when she sees Rurik, her hands loosen.
"What are they talking about?" Stefan asks as their mouths move.
"I don't know," I sneer. "Maybe if someone has hooked up the microphones correctly, we'd be able to listen in."
He winces guiltily. "You should've had Yasha do it. He's better with that tech shit than I am."
I narrow my eyes and try to read their lips, but it’s pointless. The camera isn’t high-def enough.
But even if it was, I don’t need it.
Their body language is more than enough.
Rurik opens up the loose jacket he’s wearing and Emery sags in relief. She smiles and moves towards him, hands outstretched.
Then Rurik pulls out something that reflects the light. For a second, I’m not sure what it is. But then Emery lunges for it and unwraps it with greedy fingers.
“A goddamn sandwich,” I snap. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”
I can’t decide what I’m angrier about: a Bratva soldier defying orders… or another man bringing pleasure to my future wife’s face.
I jerk to my feet and stride for the door. As I’m leaving, Stefan kicks up his feet on the desk and mutters, “Now, I really wish I had some popcorn.”
I thunder down the hall to Emery’s room and throw the door open. The handle bounces off the wall with a clatter.
“What the fuck is going on in here?”
