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“I’m not alone,” I retort. “I have Dumbass One and Dumbass Two here to keep me on the straight and narrow.”
“You’re marrying Dmitry Nikolaev, the newly-crowned don of the Nikolaev Bratva,” Mom blurts out. She bites her lip when she’s done like she just let loose a secret she wasn’t supposed to share. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”
The wine bottle slips out of my hands, crashes, and breaks on the floor, the red liquid sloshing everywhere. A distant, stupid voice in my head complains, You just cleaned the floor!
“Dmitry Nikolaev,” Mother says sternly, “I know you have finished reading. Now, put that letter down and look your mother in the eye.” I toss the letter aside, hardly even noticing how Gavriil lunges forward to snatch it up and read it for himself.
“Hello?” I repeat. “Can I at least know where I’m being taken?” My voice sounds ridiculously shrill and terrified, even though I’d planned on saying it with sassy, fuck-you gusto. “The Baccarat Hotel,” one man barks. “Okay, great, thank you. Next question: why?”
Once the elevator stops at the top and I step out, I find my first true silver lining of the day: at least I’m going to be murdered in style.
I plant one foot on the sidewalk, inhale to get ready to scream “FREEDOM!” like I’m Mel Gibson in Braveheart— And then someone clamps a hand over my mouth. “Shh. Don’t fight, Shannon. It will only get you hurt.”
We go right past the men who were chasing me. “At ease, boys,” my captor croons sarcastically in a deep, rasping voice. I feel like a stuffed animal in his lean arms for all the effect my thrashing has on his demeanor. “Nice one, boss,” one of the beefy guards says.
“Yeah, sorry,” I scowl. “You’re right. I totally should have stayed put after being kidnapped by men with guns. Silly me.” “Ah, of course,” he returns. “Running away from men who could easily shoot you is much smarter.” I huff at the loose strand of hair that’s fallen over my face. “Whatever. If you’re him—Dmitry Nikolaev—then I’ll tell you myself: get lost, go fuck yourself, et cetera. I want nothing to do with you.”
“You will be trained,” I growl, as she shakes and I see her trembling on the verge of losing it. “And you will be mine. Go ahead then, little one. Come for your fiancé.”
The lacey sleeves and front set off my… décolletage, to use a word I only know from too many Girls’ Nights with Vicki drinking boxed wine and watching Say Yes to the Dress.
I’m sorry, you watch Say Yes to the Dress and yet you seem to be completely wrong about Kleinfeld’s??? Something sounds off
I spin around again, grab her by the throat, and slam her up against the wall. “I told you to shut up,” I hiss in her face. Her eyes are wide with both fear and defiance. “You don’t understand the tiniest fraction of this fucking world. I intend to lead it, and to do that, I must make it clear to everyone that I am not going anywhere. I have to show them I have power, I have an army, I have an heir. You’ll give me that baby. That’s your piece in all this. So shut up, spread your legs, and do as you’re told.”
“When we’re married,” I find myself saying, “I am going to take what belongs to me.”
“That’s a good wife,” he breathes. “Such a good little wife, taking all of me.”
“I’d happily switch places.” “Oh, yeah?” I let his question hang in the air. My own response had been thoughtless. But now that I’m thinking about it… Fuck no. I’ll kill anyone who puts a hand on Shannon. She’s mine and mine alone.
My hands tense on the steering wheel. Tonight will be the first public thing Shannon and I have done as a couple since the wedding. That means it’s time to show the world to keep their hands to themselves, too.
“If you walk out that door,” I find myself snapping after him, “don’t bother coming back.” He pauses with a gruff laugh. “That isn’t up to you. You belong to me.”
“You’re mine,” he growls as the last waves wash through me. “And you’ll do what I say.”
“Heard about your new addition to the familia, by the way,” he adds. “A pretty little doll of a wife. Does she know?”
Gavriil quirks a brow. “Oh, you’re back to talking again?” “What can I say? Sweets bring out the best in me.” “I’d say that dress brings out the best in you,” he retorts.
“Dmitry, I mean it.” I glare at him. “Not now.” He peels his gaze off my lips. “Why not now?” I gesture to the driver. “What if he looked in the mirror?” Dmitry drops his other hand off me and scowls. “If another man saw what was only for me, I’d kill them.”
