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The chaos of last week forced me to make a decision. With my mother gone, there’s no one to pick out a good husband for me. Papa will sell me to the highest bidder without a care for the kind of man he is.
Ivan says he’ll marry me when I graduate. Right now, he carries cash for his uncle’s gambling businesses. When I told him I wanted to marry him, he convinced his uncle, the pakhan, to let him scope out crime opportunities in Boston. By the time I graduate, Ivan will secure a capo position with his uncle and can ask my father for permission to marry me.
We’re counting on his uncle to put pressure on Papa to say yes. I sure hope this tension between Papa and Alexei goes away. Ivan swears his uncle didn’t blow up our house. And I believe him. My father has made plenty of enemies, it could have been anyone.
“Will you fly up to Boston this weekend?” I ask Ivan while I pack new clothes I had to buy for school since I lost everything in the blast.
I had twenty-one years to build up my style. Recreating it in one shot, while getting over the trauma of losing my mother, left me overwhelmed. I only concentrated on things I needed for school, plus a few dresses and one pair of killer heels.
“I’ll try,dorogaya.” The R’s roll off Ivan’s tongue in his thick accent that hasn’t faded, even after being here in the US for two years. At first, he scared me a little. But he turned out to be very sweet. Calls memy dearin Russian.
“The dorm is surrounded by guards,” I warn Ivan.
“I know how to get past them,” Ivan boasts confidently.
I had to sneak around all summer to see him, even though we were just friends. He knows I’m a virgin and never even tried to kiss me. It wasn’t easy seeing him. I learned to maneuver around bodyguards, giving them the slip in stores.
I don’t love Ivan, but I don’t want to be a Parisi anymore. My father’s organization is swimming with corruption and in-fighting, and considering that everything of value was stripped and sold off from our house before it blew up. I know he’s massively in debt.
The Koslovs are strong. When Ivan and I are married, I’ll be one of them, and they’ll protect me properly.
It’s all I want. To be safe…
A loud bang on my door startles me, and I drop the phone. I bend over to pick it up, and with my ass in the air, my bedroom door opens.
A man dressed all in black stands there. Kieran’s psycho brother, Lachlan.
“I have to go.” I end the call with Ivan. “Excuse me, this is my bedroom.”
“Hello, Isabella.” He smiles at me, the wickedness punctuated with a scar across his left cheek. Lachlan O’Rourke is considered to be only slightly less dangerous than Kieran because he’s rumored to be insane. “Nice bikini. Red’s your color.”
I cross my arms, although it’s no use. I’ve always been very big on top. After arguing all morning, Papa agreed to let my guard take me to meet my friends, Ginna and Samantha, at the beach club. I want to say goodbye to them before I leave for school. I’ve known them since kindergarten. Before college, they were the only friends Papa let me have because their fathers are union organizers, and he wants to keep close ties with them.
“What do you want?” I reach for my swim cover-up, but this beast snatches it before I do. “Hey, that’s mine.”
Lachlan just grins at me while we struggle, the lace tearing in his meaty hands. I let go before it shreds completely. “Your father wants to see you,” he snarls in a lilting Irish accent.
“Where’s Mario?” I ask about my guard.
“Your father sent him home.” Lachlan now leans against the door frame, watching me with that ridiculously handsome face full of dark stubble that does nothing to hide the deep scar.
Why would Papa send my guard home? This is a trap. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” I back up toward the window, wondering if I should jump. Slide down the support post and hide in the bushes until it’s dark.
“Are you going to make me drag you?” Lachlan takes out a neatly wound rope from his suit jacket. “I can put this around your neck or your wrists.”
Fear rakes across my skin like a wire brush. “Papa!” I yell, but Lachlan’s hand covers my mouth a fraction of a second later. How a man that tall moves so fast is both impressive and terrifying.
“I wouldn’t cry out for him. His men will find you in my arms, and next, your room will be full of bullet holes and blood.” He throws me onto the bed.
I’m not sure I can take any more loud noises, so I give up. “Stop. Fine. I’ll go with you.” My bikini top is askew, but those cold gray orbs of his just look me dead in my eyes.
“Are you walking, or am I carrying you, little one?” he mockingly asks.
Smart. Be smart. Mama always said:“Don’t act hysterical. That’s when men in this world hit women.”
“I want to get dressed.” I cross my arms again.
“No. I don’t think so. This works.” He reaches down, and next, this beast is carrying me over his shoulder, with my bikini bottom wedged in my ass.
