Page 61 of Twisted Tyrant


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“Oh, yes. I have been...under the weather. It was a struggle to come to the wedding, as a matter of fact.” Absolutely not a lie.

“Well, we hope to see you back at the school soon. And my husband and I are looking forward to Mason’s recital at the end of the session.” The woman keeps chatting, but blood rushes between my ears with such force, it almost drowns out her words.

I try to focus on what she’s saying about Mason but when I look past her and see the spot where my father stood is now empty, my heart sinks into my shoes.

“I’m, um, so sorry, but I need to find someone.” I back away, my fingers clenching my skirt. I lift it off the floor, ready to dart out of the lounge to find my father. “I look forward to seeing you at the recital.”

Even though I won’t be there because I’m being forced to marry a despicable scumbag who has stolen everything from me, especially joy.

I turn back to where I’d last seen my father, my pulse hammering as I push through the throng of guests. My heels grind against the floor with every step closer I get to the exit. I yelp when a strong arm captures me around the waist and spins me around, a familiar scent teasing my nostrils.

“Luka…”

“Where are you going?” He narrows his eyes, his grip on my hips more commanding. “Don’t get any ideas, Natasha. Not now.”

I shake my head. “It’s not what you think. I need to go. I just saw my father and I have to–”

“No. You don’t. You can’t.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I can and I will. He obviously came to rescue me, and I need to–”

Luka lets out a frustrated sigh. “Look, he didn’t come here to rescue you. He’s here to give you away. Officially.”

I grab the sides of my head to keep it from spinning off my neck. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Dima didn’t only plan to parade you around to his associates. He wanted your father here to see it. He wanted to rub Ivan’s nose in his victory.” Luka’s lips pull into a tight line. “Because that’s the kind of controlling asshole that my brother is. He can’t only win. He has to destroy.”

“So Dima brought him here to humiliate him? And me?” I twist away from Luka, pressing a hand to the gaping hole in my chest. “Well, fuck him if he thinks he can beat me. Fuck them both!”

I sidestep people munching on hors d’oeuvres and run past the extravagant ice sculptures that wouldn’t last half a second if they were outside in the sweltering Miami humidity.

I finally get to the double doors that lead out of the cocktail lounge and into the main foyer of the country club. Desperation snakes through my insides, my body trembling. I explode out of the room, almost tripping into a large white column when my heel catches on the hem of my dress.

My head twists in every direction as I scout the airy and bright marbled space for any sign of my father or Dima. All I see are gaggles of bridesmaids in their sleek black gowns, drinking champagne and fluffing their hair.

Absolute oblivion.

That’s the reality for everyone but me.

I fist my long skirt and wander the area like I’m looking for a diamond in a haystack.

How the fuck could he just disappear into thin air?

The creak of a door nearby makes my heart shoot into my throat. I turn to see Dima, my father, and another man around his age walk out of the room.

My blood curdles. It has to be my future father-in-law.

Same blue eyes. Same chiseled jaw. Same arrogant bastard expression on his face.

He missed the photoshoot with his family.

Was it because he was busy ruining lives?

My eyes narrow.

Sure as hell looks that way to me.

My legs wobble like Jell-O as I step toward them. Short, sharp gasps shock my chest.

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