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Suddenly, Valentina’s sad expression and dejected gaze flash before my eyes.
Gorgeous, stunning, picture-perfect in every way…except for what lies beneath the surface.
There’s a way out, Natasha. Trust me. You just have to be patient.
I back away from Dima as more and more guests filter into the foyer. A cool, sticky drizzle slithers down my bare arm, making me squeal as a tipsy woman offers a slurred and half-hearted apology for spilling her champagne.
I swallow hard, wiping the liquid off my skin.
What if I just left? Right now? In the midst of this chaos?
But Dad…would they kill him?
I look in his direction and his tired eyes latch onto mine, the hardened shell that stared back only moments earlier no longer darkened by stoic shadows. Remorse flickers weakly in his gaze like a dying ember.
Maybe I see it, maybe I don’t.
Maybe I’m just grasping onto any and every shred of hope still alive in my heart, willing to manifest it into an escape since after tonight, my life will effectively be over.
I break the gaze, stepping backward again and slipping deeper into the crowd. My heart thumps wildly like an 808 drum.
I have to do this.
I need to get away.
Dad was willing to let me go with no regard for what happened to me after I was claimed by his enemy.
This may be my only chance…
Dima looks up suddenly, nodding his head toward someone behind me.
Two men approach me, each one grabbing an arm.
There has to be a way out, Natasha…
Except, there isn’t.
Not for me.
