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I stuff them into the back pocket of my jeans.
“What’s the point of telling me this when you’re holding me hostage, anyway?”
Alex smirks. “You may not be a virgin anymore, but I still want to marry you.” He taps his chin. “Although I won’t be paying a dime.”
I shake my head. “I told you already, I’m not going to marry you.”
“Maybe not willingly, but I’ll soon have a ring on that finger. Even if it’s by force.”
His words hang in the air like a thick cloud of smoke and the glimpse of that dark, twisted monster from before comes to light. I glare at him, my heart pounding against my ribcage as I struggle to steady my voice. “Over my dead body.”
Alex grins at me coldly, the warmth that was once in his eyes now replaced by an icy chill. “You say that now, Ella. But you’re mine now. You’ll be Mrs. Vishekov before the week is through.”
“I’ll fight you every step of the way. I’m not a possession. I’m a person.”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Ella. You might as well get used to the idea as it’s happening.”
I take a shaky breath, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “There’s no way in hell it’s happening. I escaped the Morrone family and will escape from you, too.” I stand.
Alex grabs my wrist forcefully and stands, too. “You will do as you’re told and stop acting like a fucking brat.”
I yank my wrist free. “Never. You make me sick.”
And then his hand connects with my face as he hits me again, stunning me into silence. I press a hand over my stinging face, feeling the tears wanting to come but not allowing them to fall. “You’re a fucking asshole.”
He slaps me again. “This is how our marriage will be if you continue acting like a bitch.” He turns away, walking toward the back of the plane. “I’ll leave you to cool off and think about how you want the rest of your life to pan out.”
I’m left alone in the vast space, the only sound is the hum of the engines. The tears I’ve held back fall, tracing hot paths down my stinging cheeks.
A storm of emotions whirls within me. Fear, disgust, defiance. But above all, a shattering sense of betrayal. I find myself torn. The seeds of doubt sown by Alex take root.
Could Remy be responsible for the tragedy that ripped my life apart over eleven years ago?
The thought is unbearable. It makes my chest ache, and for once in my life, I don’t know where I want to be. Most kidnapped people would long to go home, but I don’t have a home anymore.
I’ve never felt more lost in all my life.
38
REMY
“Any news?” I ask as Massimo barges into the boardroom with a grave expression.
“A source confirmed he left on his private jet with a woman heading for Las Vegas.”
“Fuck. How long ago?”
“About three hours now.”
I run a hand through my hair, knowing they’re trying to draw me into their territory. And then I’m at their mercy. “Those fucking Russian cunts.”
Someone clears their throat behind me. “I hope you’re not talking about me, Remy.”
Shit.
I forgot that Spartak had been invited to the meeting. Turning around, I shake my head. “Of course not. I’m talking about Alex and Gregor Vishekov.”
Spartak grins. “I quite agree. They are fucking Russian cunts.” From the few occasions I’ve met Spartak Volkov, it’s clear he’s not sound of mind. He has this look in his eyes and a way of talking that warns people. It’s the main reason I was so shocked that my niece fell in love with him.
