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“It’s only been a month.”

A low chuckle rumbled at the back of Damien’s throat, and he twisted on his seat to glance at the door. “A month of peace between Viktor Voronin-Varkov and Cian O’Sullivan is worth commending.” His eyes twinkled. “We all know you are walking chaos, V.”

My lip tugged upwards. Coming from Damien Varkov, that was a compliment. But my mind was elsewhere, stuck on a fair Irish princess with wild red hair, enthralling emerald eyes, a body that made me hard without a single touch, and yes, a heart that knew what it wanted and just how to get it. That included employing the art of seduction plus a fucking syringe to gain freedom. I didn’t forget; not the regretful look on her face, the heat of her body leaving mine, or the fucking syringe.

I was impressed. It took a lot of courage to do something like that, and I liked courage.

But that was a month ago.

Without a doubt, I knew she had evolved and transformed like a butterfly. Ava O’Sullivan could no longer have been the shy, timid, innocent girl I knew when we first met. Now, she was different; fearless, brave, and wild—like the untamed mane on her head. Now, she was a challenge, to tame and to break, until I controlled all of her. The rustle of thick fabric and cologne settled beside me.

“It’s the girl, isn’t it?” Fedor motioned a filled glass toward my face and stared at the man rolling out a list of names on the stage. “She’s the reason you have that smile on your face. You haven’t given up.”

I mirrored his gaze at the master of ceremonies, lifting my glass to my lips. “You know I never give up when I want something badly. I just wait for the right time.”

“...ladies and gentlemen, please join me in giving a warm welcome to another esteemed guest, Cian O’Sullivan...” All eyes turned toward the door, excluding mine.

I didn’t want to look at him; the sight would have ruined my evening. But then, Mark pointed briefly at something and whistled. “Who is that?”

Fedor nudged my arm. “You’re sure you don’t want to see this, boss? Mark’s practically drooling over the dove with the red hair.”

My head snapped over to the center of the room, where the newly introduced guests stood under the spotlight. The old man sat with three of his men mounting guard behind him, and one blonde one beside him. Pretty boy Dicklan. A few scattered applause echoed in the background, but they soon faded when my eyes landed on the real star in the room.

Hot.

She was so fucking hot, my skin burned up by just looking at her. Her dress sparkled under the light. It had a high slit that exposed just enough creamy thighs to have anyone, to have any sane man gawking and hugged the dip of every curve. I had my eyes on her the entire time. If Cian brought her here to this event—though shitty but important nonetheless—it meant one thing: she was a part of this now; full-time mafia.

Her presence here was significant, and official, like her debut; introduction into the society for everyone to see. I knew, as well as her father, what was going to happen next. Tying the knot. Knowing that she was the sole heir, she held power; and men like me would do anything to gain it. Including reaching out to Cian to seek her hand in marriage. Anger resumed its course, replacing the adrenaline fueling my veins.

To worsen it, she leaned closer to the blonde and whispered something into his ear. His eyes lit up and they shared a laugh after he brushed a strand of her hair off her face. Fingers curled into fists; I got up and kicked back the chair with enough force to get the legs scraping on the floor. It drew the attention of a few people in the room, including hers. Declan’s face hardened when he spotted me, but ... fuck him. He wasn’t my problem. The one I wanted had the look of someone who’d seen a ghost.

Our eyes locked, and the bright smile on her face faltered.

My lips curved to the side. Satisfied, I resumed my seat and lifted a glass toward her. Cheers to another promise of this fucking chase, my little dove. I am going to get you.

Chapter 11 - Ava

One month later and, still, the lingering feeling of being caged haunted me most disastrously.

I thought I had gotten rid of him; of his presence that threatened to suffocate me and hold me captive. But no, he just had to be here, in the same room with the same aura that trapped me in the beginning. Seeing him juggled unwanted memories from the grave, where they had been buried six feet under with uncarved tombstones. I didn’t want to remember, but one look at him brought it all back.

“We can make him leave,” Declan leaned in and whispered. I exhaled, making a sound between a sigh and a scoff. He was trying to distract me, take my mind off the harbinger of doom wearing a black suit. But it wasn’t working. Nothing would.

“You know we can’t.”

Declan’s desire to kill Viktor was not one of those that could be hidden under the sun. It was bright, glaring, very obvious. Even as he shot daggers at him across the room with his eyes, I could see Declan already committing murder.

“Everyone treats him—treats them—like they’re untouchable.” He seethed, using a finger to slowly motion to the other three handsome men seated on the table with Viktor. “All I need is a bullet and an opportunity. You’ll see, by the time I’m through with them, they’ll be lying dead on the ground like fucking flies.”

Two things crossed my mind.

One: I wasn’t sure how I felt about seeing Viktor lying lifeless on the ground like a fly. He might not have been my best person, but I didn’t want him dead.

Two: I would have teased Declan, reminding him about the last opportunity he had with Viktor. But the only one who’d been beaten to pulp and left on the ground with a bruised eye and busted lip had been him, Declan. But the man was not going to take that as a friendly jab, and the last thing I wanted was to cause another spark right here in the presence of some other strangers.

Loud feet shuffling brought my attention back and I looked up to see my father moving deeper into the crowd with the rest of his men. About my father... it was either he hadn’t noticed Viktor’s presence in the room, or he had, and he chose to ignore him for the continuance of peace sake’s. Knowing my father, I opted for the latter. He didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

Declan quickly rose to his feet, downing the content in his drink, before giving one long look. “I have to go.”

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