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I open my eyes and a few stray tears escape my eyes.
He reaches up and gently brushes them away, making my chest ache. “That man is a bastard and he’ll pay for what he did to you. Do you hear me?”
I don’t want him to pay, not the way Valery would make him. With violence, continuing the cycle of murder and death. “How will he pay?”
Valery’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t want you to kill him. That’s not the answer.”
“And what would you have me do to punish him, then?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Kidnapping me was good enough.”
He looks disappointed by my answer. “How about I send him a message?”
“What kind of message?” I ask.
The smile on his face is sinister and if it weren’t for the fact I’m falling for this man, I’d probably be scared. “Tell me his favorite place to hang out in Moscow, and I’ll wipe it off the map.”
My stomach twists at the thought. Father loves spending his time at a strip club he owns in the center of Moscow, called Kapriz. However, it’s a popular place and I wouldn’t want the girls to get hurt.
“What if people get hurt?”
Valery shakes his head. “I’ll hit it when it’s closed, so no chance of that happening.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s up to you though if you don’t want me to—”
“No, okay.” I nod, as I am so angry with my father. I always said I hated him, but now that hatred has turned into a loathing that knows no bounds. He murdered my mother. “Kapriz. He goes there practically every night.”
Valery scoffs. “I should have known it would be somewhere sleazy, like a strip club.” He stands and walks toward the telephone in the living room, picking it up.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Those dark, almost black, eyes meet my gaze. “Sending your father a message.” In that moment, I see just how ruthless he can be just from the look in his eyes.
Have I escaped a prison just to fall in love with a tyrant like my father?
14
VALERY
Anya sits across from me at the dining table, but ever since I told Denis to set up the explosives at her father’s strip-club, she’s been quiet.
“How is the food?” I ask, as we sit in my private booth at a restaurant in Zelenograd called Vanna. It’s too dangerous at the moment for me to step foot in Moscow city center, and to be honest, I’d imagine Konstantin would tell me even being out at Vanna is dangerous with the price on my head.
I won’t cower away and not be seen because of his assassins. It may be arrogant, but I can’t show weakness or he will exploit it.
“It’s good.” She takes a sip of her wine.
My patience wears thin as I can’t stand her silence. “What is wrong, Anya?”
She looks me in the eye. “Are you exactly like my father?”
My brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“The explosion you planned at the club.” She shrugs. “It’s the kind of ruthless thing I’d expect from him, not caring who might get hurt in the process.”
“I told you, no one is going to get hurt.”
She shakes her head. “But if they would get hurt, would you still do it?”
