I went to get into my car when suddenly Ivan wrapped a meaty hand around my wrist hard enough a painful sound escaped me.
“You’re hurting my hand,” I said and tried to pull it back but he just curled his fingers tighter around me until I hissed out.
My heart started racing as I looked into his eyes, which were now narrowed. That easygoing expression he’d given me back in the café vanished really damn fast.
He leaned in so close that I was forced to back up, pressing against my car now, the handle digging into my spine.
For a moment he didn’t say anything, just stared into my eyes, then down at my mouth, before looking into my eyes once more.
“We can talk with your father, Prima. But it’s going to be about how you need to know your place.”
My heart raced double-time.
“We’ll discuss how pleased and excited you are for the wedding.” He grinned. “Vladimir has given you too much independence over the years. He should have been shaping you to be the perfect Russian housewife who aims to please her husband.”
His mouth thinned and his jaw clenched. The stench of the vodka poured from him and surrounded me, and I felt nausea rise up.
“Let go of me.” My voice was harder, firmer than I thought I was even capable of right now.
His nostrils flared and he gritted his teeth. “When you’re my wife, legally bound by the law and by our rules, you won’t be fucking running your mouth and trying to make deals. You’ll know your place. And that’s doing what I say, when I say, whenever I say.”
I pulled my hand back, and he finally released me. I started rubbing my wrist, my heart racing so fast it hurt and I swore anyone who was close enough would be able to hear it.
“I have to go,” I said with a hard voice and straightened as much as I could with him crowding me.
“You may have gotten your way with your Pakhan father, but you’ll learn quickly to heed to my ways, Prima.”
And then he turned and left, and I sagged against the car, feeling even more deflated—and pissed—than ever before.
Chapter
Ten
Ruin
Staying where I was—hidden within the shadows of the alley between two towering buildings—and watching Anastasia was hard as fuck.
I’d wanted to go up to Ivan, wrap my hand around his thick throat, and slowly suffocate him right before I broke his neck.
Not only had he been too close to Anastasia, I’d seen the way he looked at her, practically felt the sick, sadistic desire pouring from him.
And not killing him right then and there had been a feat in itself. But I’d made sure Anastasia got to the dance studio safely, and then I decided how I was going to end fucking Ivan in the most painful way possible.
And that was how I found myself standing five feet from him, watching as he struggled against the bonds I used to secure him to the chair, listening to him cursing me out to hell and back.
I’d bound him and had to give the fat fuck some credit. He was stronger than he looked. Then again, I was letting him exhaust his angry energy, feeling dark amusement as he struggled. He wouldn’t be able to get free. I knew how to secure someone, to knot the rope so every time Ivan moved the ties became tighter.
I leaned against his bedroom wall, running the tip of the hunting knife underneath my fingernails. Back and forth. Back and forth. Listening to the asshole struggling and cursing, spitting out a string of Russian that probably would have shriveled a lesser man’s balls.
But when you didn’t have any emotions, when you didn’t feel fear, there wasn’t anything that could touch you. The only thing that could penetrate the apathetic shell that I was made of was the threat of anyone touching or hurting Anastasia.
“For such an old piece of shit, Ivan, you’ve got some stamina. I’ll give you that.” His response was more Russian insults hurled my way, ones concerning my mother, even my father. “We can do this in Russian.”
I pushed off the wall and took a step toward him, reaching out to undo the blindfold. I wanted to make it a surprise when I revealed his fate.
I tossed the blindfold on to the ground and took a step back, letting him blink his vision back into focus.
Sweat beaded down his temples, and he bent his head to rub his shoulder along the corner of his eye, wiping away the sweat. I moved back to the wall, leaned against it and propped a foot up, and went back to running the tip of my blade underneath my thumbnail.
The room was plunged in darkness and he hadn’t seen me quite yet, so I took the time to bask in the very clear unease he couldn’t hide.