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My heart is in my mouth as I make my way downstairs.
* * *
Through the frosted glass of the main door, I see a shadow. Dad is there, talking to someone.
It's been months since he was home before nine p.m. on a Friday. What am I gonna tell him? I have nowhere to hide, and the car is waiting for me. Obviously, I don't work in a bar, not dressed like this.
There's nothing for it. I swallow hard and fling the door open.
Vladimir Kislev is standing there. I glance from him to my father and back again.
You have to be fucking kidding me.
"I don't understand," my father says, addressing Vlad. "You've cleared my debt?"
"Every cent, George."
Dad does not allow strangers to call him by his first name. He's Mr. Bloom, and heinsistson it. But Vlad just called him George, and I'm astonished to hear no admonishments from my father's lips, no demands for respect.
"What the hell is this meant to be?" Dad asks, gesturing at my clothes.
"I… I have a date."
"The fuck you do," Vlad snaps.
I ignore him. "What's he talking about, Dad? What debt?"
"Allow me," Vlad says. He palms his wavy hair, sweeping it back from his forehead, and fixes his smoky eyes on mine. "After you ran out on me today, I looked you up. Your father owed five million dollars to a friend of mine, and even after your dear Papa gave him every scrap of money he could find, he was still two million short of clearing the debt. So I cleared it for him."
The money my father borrowed was dirty? It makes perfect sense. I can't believe I didn't figure it out.
"That means your father now owesme." Vlad raises an eyebrow. "And he has something I want."
"You can't do this," Dad interjects. "Morgana is my daughter. I love her. Can't you understand that?"
"I don't fucking care." My father shrinks away as Vlad takes a step toward him. "You think you have things to worry about? Fuck me around and see what happens. Your daughter belongs tome, andyouget to live another day. Simple."
The pain on my father's face is more than I can bear, and I hurl myself at Vlad, clawing for his eyes. He ducks under my flailing arms and throws me over his shoulder, ignoring me as I beat my fists on his back.
"Put me down, you sick asshole!"
"Has that ever worked?" Vlad asks. "Why even say it?"
Did you think I'd thank you and let you take Morgana in return?" my father asks, his voice rising in panic. "What iswrongwith you?"
Vlad doesn't react to my wriggling. His arm is rock solid around my waist, his other hand on the back of my thigh.
"I expected more gratitude," he says. "And as for what's wrong with me, we'd be here forever. But I'll make it easier for you. Iamtaking your daughter. And if she refuses, I'll murder you right here." He swats my ass with his palm. "You hear that,lisichka? If you want to watch your father bleed out, all you have to do is carry on just as you're doing now."
I stop fighting and stay still, my arms hanging down Vlad's back. Something in his tone is terrifyingly casual, and I don't think he's joking.
I can't see my father, but I hear him. I've never known him to stutter before.
"N-n-no. You c-can't—"
"It's okay, Dad," I say. "Let me go."
Vlad turns and sets off toward his car. I wave my hand at my father.
