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The man rolls his eyes. “Yulia will take care of that.”
“And the doctor you mentioned?”
“I do not think I need the doctor.” He brushes a hand down my cheek. “I believe you are mine, Katya.”
“My name is Katriane, sir.” I feel dizzy again, and I might throw up all over this ugly carpet.
“In this house, with me, you are Katya. Katya Koslov.”
I feel the walls close around me, and I force pretty music into my head. When Yulia held me, it felt nice. She smelled nice. I miss her. Where is she? Seeing the man waiting for a response, I curtsy. “Yes, sir.”
“Oh gawd, don’t curtsy to him. He thinks he’s a king already,” Anastasia comments, leaving her room. She walks with a spring in her step, so comfortable around here. If she’s comfortable, maybe I can be comfortable, too.
“You’re a king?” My papa is a king? Does that make me a princess? I’m starting to think differently now about all this. Who doesn’t want to be a princess?
“Da, I am pakhan. People bow to me and respect me.” He folds his arms. “You will do the same.”
“Yes, sir.” I bow, wondering who will bow to me if I’m a princess. “Will Yulia be in my room soon?”
“Da. Whatever you need, Yulia will take care of it.” He turns to walk away.
“What about you? What if I need something from you?”
“Like what?” His cold blue eyes make me shiver.
Like love? This man is supposedly my father. My friends back home in Troyes have nice fathers. They sit on their papas’ laps and get hugs. Something tells me this man hasn’t hugged anyone in a very long time.
“Nothing, sir.” My father is a king, and kings are very busy. “I won’t need anything from you.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Lachlan
“Lachlan,arewegrabbingthat guy or not?” Griffin knocks me out of my thoughts.
Thoughts that have not stopped firing through me, reliving how I kissed Katya in my bed last night, and how close I came to fucking her. She felt so warm, and my body seized with a fiery lust I’ve never felt before.
I’m hard all the time now because I can’t stop thinking about my wife.
Sitting in an alleyway, staring at the back door of a dive bar, I say, “I’ll snap his neck.”
This guy I need to hurt isn’t our usual troublemaker, someone who got in bed with us and then fucked us over, knowing the consequences.
This is what we call a civilian.
“He deserves to have his neck snapped.” Griffin shifts his gaze to me. “He’s blabbing all over the city how some brunette with scarred arms castrated his brother. People are going to put it together that it was Priscilla.”
Feeling rage, I push out of the car. Five minutes later, we’re in a field behind the bar, and the guy’s neck is under my shoe.
“LachlanO’Rourke. That’s the only name you need to concern yourself with. Your brother raped that college girl and got what he deserved. Don’t make us cut off your dick, too,andyour tongue.”
The lowlife rustles for a breath beneath my foot.
“That’s blood in your throat, mate,” Griffin mocks his pain. “Blink twice that you don’t want to lose your peckerandyour tongue.” My lieutenant laughs and looks at me. “He agrees.”
I lift off the rat, but he stays on his knees, coughing up blood. I give him one last smack in the head before walking away. No one goes after our wives. We’ve already taken out one Italian underboss and five Russians.
Griffin and I get back to his Escalade and head to the diner.
