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“Your father can’t be trusted, Eden!” he shouts. The force of his voice startles me. “And I’m starting to wonder about you!”
My heartbeat speeds up in my chest as I try to handle Nikolai’s rage. I’ve never seen him so unhinged with anger. Even at the wedding shower, when he killed a man, his actions were measured and calculated—applying just enough violence to get the job done.
But this?
He’s like a man gone insane.
But I can’t back down now. I stand up straight and try again.
“Please,” my voice trembles, but I continue. “Iknowmy father isn’t who you’re looking for. My family isn’t like that.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize my mistake. What exactly am I insinuating with “like that”? That Dad isn’t like the wild bunch of criminals killing and stealing for the Bratva?
“Eden,” he warns, his voice dangerously low.
I swallow hard. “Just one phone call,” I plead. “We can put it on speakerphone if you don’t trust me.”
The muscle in his jaw ticks. He leans so close that his breath tickles my face as his voice—low and nasty—growls above me.
“When will you finally understand?” he scoffs. “Your precious father is just as dirty as the rest of us, Eden. He’s not what you think. The tower’s about to come crashing down, and it’s going to take you down with it, princess.”
“That’s not true,” I tell him desperately. “He’s always home. He doesn’t drink. My dad is not who you think …”
A mirthless laugh bursts from Nikolai’s mouth, cutting me off.
“Do you know what I think?” His powerful arms frame me between the shelves, trapping me in a space that I cannot escape from. “I think he kept you hidden away because he’s a traitor, Eden. You know nothing because he needed you dumb and naive. Because it was easier to handle you this way.”
A hard slap would’ve been kinder than those words. I feel tears stinging against my cheeks, but Nikolai doesn’t care. I can see itin his eyes. He only wants to hurt me. He steps closer until his face is practically pressed against mine.
Instinctively, my hand goes to my throat.
Nikolai stares at my hand, and for a moment, he seems calmer, saner.
But then he grabs me, shaking my shoulders as if the truth will come falling out.
“Where is he, Eden? I know you sent him a message!” His fingers dig into my flesh. “If he’s so innocent, why isn’t he knocking down these doors to get his precious daughter back? Why does he continue to allow you to be my prisoner? My plaything?”
His thumb brushes against my shoulder, sending an unexpected surge of desire coursing through me from the touch. I know he feels it too, because his grip tightens ever so slightly—enough to cause me to gasp, but not enough to make me scream.
His green eyes drill into mine, blank and emotionless.
And for the first time in his presence, I am scared. A deep, visceral fear that bubbles up from a primitive part of my mind. As if I suddenly am made aware of just how tiny I am compared to him.
How easily he can hurt me.
How easily he canbreakme.
But then he blinks and the blankness is gone, and he pulls back. But his hand remains on my shoulder.
I twist away from him with a strength that surprises us both. “Do you really believe my father is a fucking criminal like you?”Hysterical with fear, I can only scream at him. “If you want to know the truth, then you’ll let me call him!”
I want him to respond, to do something—anything—to prove that he cares enough about me and what I’m telling him to try and put it to the test. But he doesn’t do anything. To make things worse, he starts to turn around.
“Look at me!” I shriek at him like a banshee—desperation mixing in my voice. “Don’t turn your back on me, you coward!”
Perhaps there’s a hint of truth in that accusation. But now’s not the time to ponder this anymore. “Look at me!”
Finally, he looks back, and his green eyes are shining. Gasping for air, I dig my nails into my palms as my nerve slips for just a moment. I waver on my feet, ready to rush toward him before he can change his mind.
