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I bring my phone closer to my ear, trying to catch every word.
“We could fast track things a few weeks,” Alexander snivels. “The main concern would be the investment. Putting a rush on some of these things will be costly and the benefit I’m expected to get out of it—”
Konstantin cuts him off. “The cost is of no concern to me.”
Liars.The cost is the only thing that matters to any of them. They are all looking at their bottom lines all the time. The moment this union doesn’t bring in enough money or ensure enough power, it will be dissolved.
I hear Cora sigh every so often. Her breath rumbles against the speaker, sending a blast of static. The reminder that she is alive and breathing is calming.
Which is good—because nothing else about the conversation is calming.
It’s the world’s most boring boxing match. These two preening idiots squaring off, circling each other while they try to make sure they are each getting the better end of the deal.
Konstantin wants to know Alexander’s fixer business is on an upward trajectory. Alexander wants to know that selling his stepdaughter will guarantee Konstantin Sokolov’s continued business moving forward.
It’s not dinner conversation; it’s a buffet of the thoughts of insecure men. Men who have nothing better to do than sell their sons and daughters into joyless marriages while they count their coins.
At one point, I could have been one of them. If it hadn’t been for watching my own sister suffer… If I hadn’t been engaged to Katerina, who literally begged me to help her get free… Maybe I would have turned into one of these manipulative ghouls who treat the people around them like kindling for the fire.
But now, there is Cora.
With Cora, it isn’t just about setting her free and helping her escape this world. It’s about destroying any world that would ever want to keep her down.
Mikhail’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts. The audio jumps and then picks up. “Impregnating her won’t be a worry, but whether she can carry a Sokolov baby full term is.”
My knuckles go white as I grip the phone.
The thought of Mikhail even being in the same room as Cora is enough to make me want to drive across town and drag Cora out of there, body count be damned. But the thought of him touching her…impregnating her…there isn’t a violent enough word for what it makes me want to do to him.
Maybe that anger is why I didn’t hear the footsteps in the hall until the knob is turning.
I swipe out of the audio app and place my phone face down on my desk just as Francia stomps into my office.
“I will not live like this, Ivan!” she screeches. “I willnotlive like this. I refuse. This treatment is—is—It’s unacceptable!”
Her hair is in a sweaty, frizzy mess around her head and she’s panting. She must have marched here all the way from her wing of the house.
“Ah, yes. Of course.” I fold my shaking hands on top of my desk and nod. “I can see how living in a mansion with two maids assigned to care for you, around-the-clock protection, and a live-in chef could be unacceptable. How dare I make sure your every need is met?”
Francia stares daggers into me, but all I can think about is Cora locked away in her room. She has no freedom, no connection to the outside world beyond the phone a maid will hopefully be delivering to her soon, and she’s withering away with every passing day.
She’s completely alone, trapped in that room with men who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.
And I’m here… listening to Francia complain about the accommodations she stole from Cora.
Without looking at my unwelcome bride, I grab my phone and fire off a text to Cora’s burner number.
It’s me. Use this phone if you need it. I’m here.
I want Cora to know she isn’t alone. No matter how she feels right now, I’m going to come for her. I’m going to get her out of there.
When I look up, smoke might as well be pouring out of Francia’s ears. “There is more to a life than amenities, Ivan,” she spits. “I don’t care what the thread count of my sheets are if you can’t even make it through a single conversation with me without grabbing your phone. I don’t care about a jacuzzi tub if no one in this fucking mansion respects my role as your wife.”
“We aren’t married.”
“Yet,” she hisses. “We aren’t marriedyet.But we will be, and being treated like a second-class citizen in my own home is not what I signed up for.”
“Guess you should have read the fine print.” It’s a struggle not to laugh in her face. “You aren’t dead. You could be dead. I suggest you keep that in mind and you’ll be more grateful.”
