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I clench my fists and he eyes them with amusement.
“Better to bottle up that anger. It won’t do anyone any good if you let it go.” He turns and stalks toward the door. “I’ll send someone up in a few minutes to do your hair and makeup. I advise you to let her in when she knocks.”
His critical gaze sweeps over me once again, and I notice his jaw tighten the slightest bit. “Get rid of that fucking rag. I won’t say it again.”
And just like that, I found the thing that actually can shake him.
I pick up the box when he leaves the room. My heart thuds against my chest when I flip open the top. A large diamond ring sits in the middle of the soft cushion. I pull it out with shaking fingers and hold it up to the light. I watch the facets glitter brilliantly through my angry tears before sliding it onto my finger.
My eyes flutter closed, suddenly transporting me to a place where I’m dressed in a white silk wedding gown. I clutch a bouquet of black and white calla lilies in my hand as I walk toward a man whose back is to me.
With a thumping heart, the unknown captures me around the neck like a tight noose. Faces on either side of me blur as I walk down the aisle alone. Each step I take toward the man tenses every muscle in my body. Then the man shifts, twisting around so that I catch a glimpse of the scar over his eye. A wave of relaxation and comfort ripples through me.
It’s Luka.
Knock! Knock!
A rapping at the door makes my eyes fly open. I shove the ring back into the box before calling out to the woman here to transform me into the mafia princess Dima expects me to be for him and the rest of the world.
I swallow hard, ignoring the tickling sensation in my nose that tells me more tears are imminent.
But fuck that.
I will not allow a single one to fall.
Luka let me go.
No, scratch that.
He shredded my heart and then shoved me out of his life forever.
Why the hell should I spend another second thinking about him and keeping his ratty T-shirt wrapped around my body like some kind of security blanket?
“Come in,” I call out.
A petite woman with a tight bun and a boatload of equipment walks into the suite, a smile plastered on her face. “Mr. Malikov asked me to take care of your hair and makeup for the wedding.”
I nod because there is no sense in making her job harder. She’s being sweet to me, why should I be a bitch to her?
It isn’t her fault that I’m a prisoner.
And even though I know deep down Dima won’t carry out his own threats, I sure as hell know he’ll make a few calls and have his bidding done for him.
I can’t risk that. For as angry as I am at my father...not that he knows it since I haven’t even been able to speak to him...I’d never want to see him hurt.
Him, my mother, my sisters.
It’s up to me to make sure they are safe.
It’s up to Dima to make sure I’m safe.
Those men who invaded Luka’s house to attack me...why hasn’t he mentioned them? Luka must have told him that they came looking for me. I’d think he would take special care to keep me out of the limelight if I was being hunted by some other enemy.
On second thought, the wedding is probably where I’d be safest because of all of the security I’m sure they’ll have roaming the grounds. My throat tightens. Although Dima never promised to take care of me and keep me safe.
Not like Luka did.
No!
