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“She’s not your little anything,” Ivan growls above me.
Slowly turning my head back, I give him a true psychopath smile that actually makes his brother flinch. “Are you sure about that?”
“She’s upstairs, sleeping,” Mikhail suddenly says before his father can hit me again. He flicks a disgusted look up and down my body. “Blissfully unaware that there’s a rat in our basement.”
Ivan straightens and glances at his son. Mikhail just looks back at him in silence for a second before returning his attention to me. Ivan clears his throat. Lowering his raised fist, he seems to compose himself again. I just sit there, watching them with a disinterested look on my face.
“Since you are apparently as dumb as the rest of your family, I will say this again.” Ivan levels a commanding stare on me. “Stay away from Alina.”
I hold his gaze and simply reply, “No.”
His eyes narrow, and he clenches his right hand as if he has to physically stop himself from hitting me again. “It wasn’t a suggestion. You are going to break up with Alina. And then you are going to spend the rest of your life making sure that you are at least thirty feet away from her at all times.”
“Ah,” I say. Victory pulses through me, and I let that show in the wide grin that slides home on my mouth. “So you’ve tried to get Alina to break up with me, but she has refused. So now, you’re trying to get me to end it instead.”
The rage that blows across his hard features is confirmation enough.
Incredible warmth suddenly pulses through me. Alina’s family has been trying to make her break things off with me, but she has refused. Even in the face of all that pressure, she still refused.
“Yes,” he admits. Leaning down, he braces his hands on my restrained arms and gets right into my face. “But do you know what the difference is between you and Alina? She is my daughter, and I cannot and will not hurt her.” His fingers tighten on my arms, digging into the muscles. “You, on the other hand…”
The other five Petrovs grin at me in wicked anticipation from behind his back. I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. Well, this is going to be fucking annoying.
Ivan takes his hands off my arms and instead reaches behind his back. A hint of worry flickers through me when he pulls out two guns. With one in each hand, he moves them forward and then places the muzzle of each gun against my knees. I watch them for a second before returning my gaze to Ivan.
His gray eyes are as hard and merciless as stone as he stares down at me. “You are going to stay away from Alina.”
Sitting there, strapped to the fucking chair, I look up at him with equally hard eyes. “No.”
He pushes the guns harder against my knees. “Stay away from Alina or I’ll blow your kneecaps.”
I just continue holding his gaze. “No.”
His fingers tighten on the triggers. “The moment I fire these guns, your kneecaps will shatter like glass and your career will be over. Your future will be over.”
“Alina is my future.”
“You won’t be able to walk.”
“I can still crawl to her.”
A muscle feathers in his jaw, and he cocks his head as he edges his fingers farther down on the triggers. “Last chance. Stay away from Alina.”
Keeping my chin raised, I stare back at him. “No.”
He pulls the triggers.
My heart pounds and every nerve in my body feels like it’s on fire. But I manage to just sit there and stare up at Ivan fucking Petrov with impassive eyes as two clicks echo through the room.
No bangs. No gunshots. No blood and bones and pain. Only two clicks. Which means that he pulled the triggers, but the guns weren’t loaded.
Genuine surprise flashes across his face for a second. Since his wide eyes are staring at me and not at the guns, I’m assuming that he’s not surprised about the fact that the guns weren’t loaded, but rather at the fact that I chose to let him pull the triggers instead of just agreeing to leave Alina.
My heart is still hammering against my ribs and my pulse is pounding in my ears, because I had no idea that the guns weren’t loaded. But I meant what I said. I will be dead before I ever let Alina go.
Ivan gives his head a quick shake as if to clear it, and then straightens. Shifting the guns in his hands, he ejects the empty magazines and slams in ones that actually have bullets in them. Behind him, the other five Petrovs watch me with expressions that vary from confusion to surprise to wariness. I keep the nonchalant mask on my face as I look back at them.
Once Ivan is finished, he turns to me again.
