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“I don’t know any more than what you do.” The words catch in my throat, and suddenly I wonder if I’ve said too much.
“Is that so?” Alexander asks, a hint of skepticism in his posh tone. “Your father was a very important man. He never told you anything? Not even about his old friends?”
“My father works with computers,” I insist, my voice wavering despite my best efforts. “And he never talked about friends.”
The men exchange glances, clearly not convinced by my answer.
“He works with computers, yet you don’t have a phone?” Ippolit asks softly. “No social media presence for a young lady like yourself. Why?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, keenly aware of their scrutinizing gazes. “My father doesn’t trust it,” I say, trying to sound confident but feeling anything but. “He thought it wouldn’t be safe for me.”
“Safe?” Ippolit presses, narrowing his eyes. “Did he ever tell you why he was so concerned about your safety?”
My hands tremble, and I pull the pillow closer to me to hide my growing terror.
“No,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper. “He never explained anything to me. He just … wants to protect me.”
The bulldog, Gunsyn, laughs out loud as he finally stops staring at my chest. “Protect you from what, princess? Us?”
I frown at his assumed familiarity, narrowing my eyes to match his disgusting gaze. How dare he call me princess like Nikolai?
“Gunsyn.” Nikolai’s tone is low and threatening.
Chastened, Gunsyn nods, looking down his nose at me. “Okay. That’s fine. You haven’t said anything to us that we don’t already know.”
Ippolit frowns at Gunsyn, looking annoyed, but Gunsyn ignores him. Ippolit then glances at Nikolai, waiting for a reaction. ButNikolai doesn’t acknowledge him either. I watch him, wondering why Nikolai seems so tense.
Is he worried about me or himself? Who are these men?
“Look.” I try to suppress the tremor in my voice, “I don’t know anything. I’m … I’m sorry.”
The men study me as if gauging the veracity of my words. Then Ippolit leans back, seemingly satisfied for now.
Nikolai finally looks at me and takes my trembling hands. Warmth flows from his touch, and I feel my heart slightly slow its panicked beat. He clenches his jaw.
“Enough,” he snaps, his voice like a whip cracking through the air. “You’ve had your chance to question her. Now back off.”
There’s a pause before the men murmur their consent, and I see the scowls on their faces as they begrudgingly submit to Nikolai’s authority.
The tension in the room doesn’t dissipate. If anything, it thickens and presses down on me. The three men’s cold stares linger, raising goose bumps along my bare skin. Nikolai shoots the bulldog a look that makes me tremble. I know I should feel relieved, but all I can think about is how much darker and more dangerous my world has become.
“Eden,” Nikolai’s voice is soft but firm. “Go back to your room so that I might speak to my brigadiers alone.”
I nod and jump to my feet, quickly moving toward the floating stairs. I glance back at Nikolai, and his gaze stays with me, filled with an intensity that sends a tremor down my spine. As I slowly climb, I face them at every turn, catching the three other men raping me with their eyes as I ascend. I slow my steps whenI reach the hallway. And when I’m out of sight, Nikolai’s voice rises into a commanding roar that makes me gasp.
“You have no right to interrogate her like this!” His voice is dangerous, the calm before the storm. “You enter my home without permission and disrespect my guest before me. I don’t care what you want. You will not harm her, do you understand? If she so much as gets a scratch because of you, I will make you pay for it tenfold.”
“She already looks scratched up to me.” A low laugh follows but suddenly stops. I hear a struggle, but I don’t dare look.
“Kolya, Kolya.” Posh Alexander’s voice drifts up. “Calm yourself. Gunsyn was only joking.”
“Call me Kolya one more time,” Nikolai replies tersely. “And I will throw you off the terrace.”
“Nikolai Gennadyevich, we’re not monsters,” Ippolit’s voice drips with insincerity. “We won’t hurt the girl unless it is an absolute necessity. But even you must admit that the safety of the Bratva comes above all. Your late father wouldn’t want a traitor running free. And she is our ticket to him.”
Bratva? A traitor? Are they talking about Dad? I hold my breath as I hang onto every word.
“You don’t get to terrorize her,” Nikolai growls, his anger palpable even from a safe distance. “She’s been through enough.”
