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A whimper spills from my lips. The last time I extracted information from Victor, my first husband, it almost cost me my life.
“You said the last time that if I got you the information, we would be debt free.” I’m speaking out of turn. I know I’ve crossed an invisible line even before my father looks up at me with fire in his eyes. His fist comes down with a heavy thud on the table, and I grip the arm of the chair so I don’t jump.
“It helped,” he grits out. “But it wasn’t enough. Yes, you did well. You kept a roof over Louise’s head. You say you want to give your sister a better life, but do you mean it?”
Louise. My Achilles’ heel.
The information I obtained for my father gave him millions. Where did all that money go? I want to accuse him of returning to gambling, but I also value my life.
“Once you get the information from Aidan Murphy, you can leave him. Finances will be set up for you and Louise. I’d suggest you pull yourself together. Aidan Murphy may one day rule the Irish Mafia. He won’t want a weak woman at his side.” He returns to his work, dismissing me.
I’m so beat down that I don’t at first comprehend the dismissal. When his gaze darts to mine, my brain stalls, mentally repeating his words before I rise. He has taken everything from me. I’m ready to walk away, but I can’t. Not this time. I raise my head in defiance.
“No.” My pulse builds to a tempo that’s more fitting to a dramatic ballad grand finale. The part where the heroine dies, or the moment the hero realizes he’s already lost her.
My father rises in one swift motion. He’s a large man, over six feet tall, with massive hands.
“I wasn’t asking, Raven.”
“I don’t understand.” I blink tears.
His lips curl into a snarl. “You’re a woman. You aren’t meant to understand the ways of a man. Just get the information from Aidan Murphy, and you have your freedom.” My father settles back into his chair.
“Or maybe he would prefer someone younger.” My father’s mouth curves into a smile. “Louise is very striking.”
My stomach roils. His words should terrify me; instead, they make me want to tear the world apart. “You will not go near Louise.”
My father ascends and steps around his desk with a raised hand. I fear what will come next. I’ve pushed too far, and I will pay the price.
The impact of the slap doesn’t just burn my jaw; the force sends me sprawling to the floor. The ridges of the wooden floor dig into my palms. My hip takes the brunt of my fall.
I’m staring at the dark wood, panting and shaking. I want to get up. I want to defy him. Maybe he senses the rebellious nature in me. His fingers plunge into my hair, and my scalp burns as he forces my head back.
“Apologize.”
I want to say no again, but as his gaze fills with brutality, I know this will end with me injured and still shipped away to marry a stranger. But, for one moment, it’s brief. My defiance feels so good.
“No.” My heart palpitates as I try to crawl away from my father before he can unleash his wrath upon me. The abrupt opening of his study door stops his assault.
My face continues to burn from the slap he planted on my cheek. I take in shiny black shoes before traveling my gaze up black slacks all the way to George’s green eyes. My bodyguard isn’t looking at me. A muscle tics in his square jaw.
George captures my father’s attention. “I do apologize, Mr. Collins.” He glances at his wristwatch. “I’m here to collect Miss Raven. The car is waiting.”
My lungs constrict painfully. No one walks into my father’s office unannounced, and George follows the rules. So why did he enter without knocking? Or did he knock, and I just didn’t hear the sound?
I push off the floor. My arms tremble as if I’d been lifting weights.
“Get up,” my father barks as he returns to his seat behind his desk. I hate him. I hate him so much. As I stand, my tongue flicks out, licking the blood off my lips.
When I’m upright, my father pins me with a stare. “The car can wait. Have one of the servants clean her up first,” he says to George without taking his beady eyes off me.
My heartbeat thump, thump, thumps. George said the car is waiting. Am I leaving right now?
“Miss Raven.” George’s brash words have me pivoting toward him.
“I hope you show Mr. Murphy more respect. I’m sure his hand would be far heavier than mine.”
I hunch my shoulders at my father’s words. I want to rebel. I want to tell him I hate him, but I place one foot in front of the other until I pass George. The office door closes as George falls into step behind me. We walk down the long corridor, and I wrap my arms around my waist to try to shake off the growing fear.
