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“Only if it means the end of all the trafficking and brothels.”
“Father will be happy to close down those businesses. He’s only interested in the real estate.” Thor says with a nod. “We’ll be in touch.”
He walks to the door and pauses. “You’ve got a smart girl, by the way. No one’s ever managed to escape Father’s forced marriages, not even me. I won’t say a word about what I saw in the alley.”
My eyes narrow, and he backs away with a smirk. I’ve killed men for far less, but silencing Thor when I’m alone and surrounded by his men is suicide.
And I want to stay alive to take care of Phoenix.
I wait for him to step out through the door before lowering my gun. That property portfolio was never mine to begin with, and if it gets the Bestlasson family off my back, I’m happy to make the sacrifice.
A group of men in white jumpsuits come in, holding bags of equipment. I step aside, letting them get on with their clean-up duties.
I lean against the wall, watching them load the two men I shot into body bags. The phone in my pocket buzzes.
The message on screen says,Leave through the service entrance around the back of the building. Silver Audi. Keys in glove compartment.
My shoulders collapse with relief. Crius really was bluffing about having taken Quinn.
I let my gaze drift to Mother’s pale body, which still lies partially exposed beneath the sheet. Her betrayal was disappointing, but I’m finally free. Free of the specter of my father. Free of the threat that Crius will hurt the ones I love.
Free to love Phoenix.
Epilogue
TEN MONTHS LATER
I step out of my bathroom and into the master suite to find that Marius has laid out a dress on the four-poster bed. It’s a salmon-pink wraparound made of the kind of lightweight silk that would blow up in a breeze.
On the left is an open shoe box containing a pair of nude-colored sandals with straps that wind around the foot and ankles. On the left of the dress lies a Tiffany gift box containing an ornate, silver wrist cuff and diamond-encrusted drop earrings.
There’s no sign of Marius, and his bathroom door is open. He’s probably downstairs, fixing breakfast, or still making preparations for the graduation ceremony.
My teeth worry at my bottom lip. A dress with such a deep V needs a necklace. Making a mental note to search through my jewelry dresser, I pad across the room to my dressing table.
A giggle bubbles up from deep within my belly. Marius would call it a jewelry armoire. When he’s not dealing with crap in the underworld or playing the wicked professor, he’s working on a cryptocurrency textbook.
The dressing table is an antique from France. Ivory-colored wood adorned with polished vermeil standing on beautifully curved legs. Marius calls the style Rococo. It’s in all the rooms of the house, except for the kitchen and basement.
I lower myself onto the cushioned stool, gaze into the silver-framed mirror, and smile at my reflection. These past few months have been intense.
After I got expelled from Marina University, Marius pulled a few strings to have me transferred to the London School of Finance. I had to take a bullshit entrance exam. It was worth it because now I have a first-class degree from one of Great Britain’s most prestigious universities.
Marius granted his father’s dying wish, and with the help of Quinn, he tracked down all the women Crius had hidden across London. He ended up having more brothers than he’d imagined and spent the rest of his sabbatical tracking them down.
Some of them are just children, others adults who were also on a quest to murder the man who had imprisoned their mothers.
The first one Marius found was seriously disturbed and had taken a girl hostage to be his kitten. I shake my head, still not quite believing how one man could ruin so many lives.
Marius’s footsteps echo across the hallway. I sit up, my heart fluttering. Even though I’ve lived in his house since the day after we had sex in the alleyway, I still get a thrill from his presence.
He strides in, already dressed in full academic regalia.
It’s a tomato-red gown that falls halfway down to his ankles with a black front and matching stripes at the sleeves. He wears a cap instead of a flat mortar board, because he has a phd.
Judging by his bare arms and feet, he’s wearing nothing underneath.
“Good morning, Professor.” My gaze drops to the long dildo in his hand. The sight of it glistening with lube makes my ass clench.
