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Alexander sighs and waves me towards the door. “Go eat and shower. You look like a wreck.”
“I didn’t realize my prison cell had a dress code.”
“Oh, it doesn’t. But the cameras are unforgiving.” An oily smile slips across his face.
I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking, but I can’t stop myself. If there are cameras in my bedroom or somewhere else in the house, I need to know. “What cameras?”
“You’re going to go shopping with your mother. A proper girl’s day out so you can pick out some new clothes.”
“I have clothes upstairs.”
“Clothes you left hanging in favor of jeans and a t-shirt.” His lip curls in distaste. “I’ll have the staff wrestle you into dresses if I must, but I’m going to be kind and let you pick something you might like.”
I want to laugh in his face. Sending me dress shopping with my mom is the furthest thing from kind. It’s actually a nightmare.
“Then,” he continues, “you and Mikhail have a lunch date.”
“In public?”
People. Freedom. I could escape. I could yell for help, and—
“Unfortunately, poor Jorden won’t be joining you,” Alexander adds. “She’s… occupied.”
There it is. The not-so-subtle reminder of why I won’t be escaping anytime soon.
They’ll kill her if I try.
“I’m here,” I tell him icily. “You are holding me prisoner and I’m going to marry Mikhail. Why do we have to parade around the city together? Isn’t this enough? Is your victory over me not complete until you’ve rubbed my nose in it?”
“Not everything is about you, Cordelia,” he drawls. “This is tactical. The more people who see that my prodigal daughter has returned home, the harder it will be for Ivan to make a move.”
Is that a concern? Does he think Ivan might come to rescue me? If so, he might as well save his worry. Ivan isn’t coming for me.
These men are going to use me as a pawn in their own greedy games.
Unless I make it stop.
Just like he did at the start of breakfast, Alexander claps his hands again. “Now, go. I’m busy.”
I give my stepfather one final look before I leave his office. He’s regal behind his desk, comfortable and relaxed. Nothing about my presence unsettles him. He doesn’t think I’m capable of fighting back.
Good.
When I do, he’ll never see it coming.
14
IVAN
I’ve lost count of the days since I’ve seen Cora.
It’s hard to keep a reliable record of time when every second feels like an hour. The nights are an endless stretch of tossing and turning. I spend them replaying the last couple weeks in my mind again and again.
What could I have done differently?
Everything.
Who should I have killed?
