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Val lifts a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You know, he’s not the monster he appears to be.”
A thick lump forms in the back of my throat. “I know. He doesn’t show the human side too often, but I have seen glimpses.” My lips twist and I crack each one of my knuckles, imagining they’re Dima’s neck. “It’s more than I can say about Dima, who doesn’t seem to give a damn about me at all beyond tormenting my father and humiliating him in front of the world. What kind of life is that going to be for me? Why should I have to be punished for things my father did? Why do I have to suffer?”
“It’s always us who suffer. But on the flip side, we reap a lot of benefits as well.”
“I’d rather give it all up and live on the streets than have my dreams and my freedom stolen from me.” I bite down on my lower lip and debate whether or not to ask the question on the tip of my tongue. It doesn’t take long to decide. “Have you ever thought about running away?”
Val’s eyes widen, and a shocked expression settles into her soft features. “And look over my shoulder for the rest of my life? I’d rather spend the time hoping my husband fucks up and gets himself killed. It’s definitely not beyond the realm of possibility with the bottom-feeders our families deal with.”
“Yeah, and how can you tell one bottom-feeder from another? Seems like they’re all one and the same.”
“I hear that.” Val sinks back onto the couch and picks up a glass of water on the coffee table in front of her. She takes a sip and sets it back on the table. “Dima wasn’t always so power hungry. He and Luka have always had this unspoken battle of the wills. Luka is the guy who will do anything for his family. He’s loyal to a fault and caused his fair share of headaches because of it. Dima was the one responsible for cleaning up the messes Luka left behind, and I think after a while, he started to resent it. They butted heads more often than not, and Dima eventually convinced my father that Luka was more of a liability than a leader. That’s how he was able to move up the food chain. Luka was out of the picture for a few years, and Dima solidified his place in the family. Once my dad steps down, Dima will take over the family and Luka…” Val shrugs. “He’ll keep fighting the battles and get none of the glory.”
“Away, as in prison?”
“So he told you.”
“I didn’t get full details but yeah, he mentioned it. I know my father had something to do with it. That’s apparently why I came up on your family’s radar.”
“You were never supposed to stay here with him.” Val twists a strand of hair around her finger. “And then something about the revenge plan changed. I never got a straight answer from Dima when I asked him why.”
“Fuck him and this plan.” Anger bubbles in my chest and I pace the length of the living room, each step making my leg muscles tense more and more. “Do you know that I haven’t been able to speak to my family since I was yanked from my house? I have no idea what’s happened to them or what might happen if I even try to contact them. My entire existence is in shambles. My job, my school, my music. Everything I loved about living has gone up in smoke, and I can’t do a damn thing about it. Do you realize how much it sucks to be a pawn in some sick and twisted power play?”
“Yeah, actually, I do. And you’re right. It’s a horrible feeling. But…” Valentina’s voice drops and her eyes dart back toward the closed basement door.
Nikolai and Luka are probably huddled at the bottom of the stairs right now, plotting God only knows what. The last thing I need is for them to hear advice about how I can possibly escape my fate if that’s a secret she’s about to divulge.
“There’s a way out, Natasha. Trust me. You just have to be patient and it will all–”
The rest of her words freeze on her tongue when the basement door slams open.
“Dima wants you to bring the dress you’re going to wear to the wedding.” Luka’s sharp voice interrupts Val’s assurances.
Dammit, I wish he’d have waited just a few more seconds before ascending from the basement in his thugged-up, wife beater-clad, inked glory. His fierce eyes bore into me, and sparks of latent desire ignite deep in my belly under his heated stare.
“I didn’t choose one of those tacky dresses because I have no intention of going.” I fold my arms over my chest, a weak attempt to hold my very unsteady ground.
“Well, pick one now because he wants you back at his place.” Luka’s voice is tight, the vein in his neck throbbing to the point where I’m actually afraid it might burst.
My eyes search for any indication in his expression that he wants me to stay, anything that tells me in no uncertain terms that he doesn’t want me to leave with Nikolai and Valentina.
Because if there is a way out, Luka might be my only option.
The dark knight.
Oh, God, yes.
The darker the better.
“Go,” Luka bellows. He storms into the kitchen and I hear the freezer door open and slam shut, the walls shaking at the force. It’s evidently vodka time.
Actually, when is it not?
A gaggle of tears catches in my throat, and I run to the safe room.
I’ll show that asshole Dima what I think about his bullshit orders.
I tear open one of the dress bags and pull out a deep red gown. The fabric is encrusted with beads and stones, and it is absolutely the gaudiest thing I’ve ever seen. A quick glimpse into the other bag tells me that I am one hundred percent wrong in that assessment. Each one is worse than the last, and they all weigh more than me.
