My throat was so tight. Too tight. I couldn’t admit that I’d seen him and Francesca, couldn't put her family through any of that. “I just needed a breather. Edoardo followed me, must have thought he was still there to watch over me.” I was surprised I sounded as sure and strong as I did.
“Is that right?” He straightened but I held my ground, tipped my chin up, and kept my focus on his eyes. “I see you’ve gotten a bit of a backbone since getting married to the Russian.” He moved around his desk. “He must have fucked all the weakness from you.”
I slapped a hand over my mouth in shock and disgust that my father would say such crude things to me. But the man advancing on me and looking at me with such malice and hatred was even worse than the person I’d grown up to fear and hate.
He stopped a few feet from me and curled his lip in disgust. “You remember what the hell I said. You remember to obey that Russian bastard no matter what.” He took a step forward. “I won’t have you fucking up anything else.” Another step closer, but I still stayed where I was.
I craned my neck to look into his face. “Father,” I said in a sweet voice, hoping it would placate him to see I was just a woman. Just the daughter he pawned off. “I’ll be good. I’ll make you proud.” Fuck you.
He stayed silent.
“But if you’d allow, I’d love to have Claudia visit. If you’d allow it.”
He smirked. “If I allow it.” The humor faded. “I had quite the mess to clean up.”
Back on that. Back to it being my fault.
Faster than I anticipated, my father grabbed my wrist in a bruising hold, so tight that I felt it wrap around my bone. Tighter and tighter he squeezed before jerking me forward and baring his teeth.
I wasn't aware of the sound of pain leaving me until it spilled loudly from my mouth and filled the office. And then I heard it. Footsteps coming forward. Hard. Heavy. Nikolai’s. My father is in front of me gripping my wrist one second, and the next he was being tossed across the room and stumbling back against his desk.
I stared at Nikolai’s huge, imposing back as he stood between me and my father. His shoulders were rising and falling, and I heard the heavy rush of his breathing. His anger was a tangible presence in the room, bigger than life itself.
“You…” Nikolai said and took a step toward my father. “You made a fucking mistake.” His accent was so thick right now that his English was barely distinguishable. I knew if I didn't stop this something horrible would happen.
And it wasn’t that my father would be killed by my husband's hands, but that Nikolai would face repercussions over this.
I found myself at Nikolai’s side, my hand curled around his larger one. I stroked my thumb over his inner wrist and slowly he turned his head from where my father still stood by his desk.
“Let’s go. Let’s just go.” I said that over and over again like a mantra. I didn’t know when I’d gotten to the point where I’d embraced this new life so thoroughly. But here I was, fearful of Nikolai being hurt even though he seemed indestructible. “Please,” I whispered and I watched as that rage that covered his face lessened marginally and he exhaled.
He looked at my father again and gritted out, “that was the last time you ever touch her again.” And then Nikolai was weaving his fingers through mine and leading me out of the house.
Chapter
Seventeen
Amara
My tears had long since dried, but all I could think about was Claudia, how she’d looked at me with a detached expression, her big blue eyes showing me what her future held.
It was the same one as mine. I glanced down at my wrist, a bruise in the form of my father’s hand covering my pale skin.
I closed my eyes and thought about those last few moments when Nikolai ushered me out of the house. My mother and sister had followed us out to the car, and the look of worry on my mother’s face had been tangible.
I thought about how I’d stared into Claudia’s wide blue eyes, felt her apprehension and fear, and pulled her close to me in a hard hug and whispered in her ear.
“I’ll come back for you. I’m not leaving you here. I promise.”
And then there was Gio, who’d stood by the front door with his hands clenched tight at his sides, his focus on my wrist. His jaw had been locked tight, his eyes narrowed. I had to hope and pray he’d protect Claudia from our father’s wrath until I got her away. I had to believe he loved us more than he cared about our father’s approval.
I had to believe that or I’d die.
“Please,” I’d mouthed to him, and when he’d given a firm nod I’d felt air fill my lungs.
“I’ll come back for you.”
And I would. I felt that fill every part of me so solidly there was no other option.