AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A new form of dread slices through me. What is my father going to think when he finds out? After all the effort not to be problematic, this is the biggest problem of all. I am no longer the untouched, rare jewel my father has been marketing me as.
Knowing my father, if he found out that I am growing a life inside me, he would take care of it. Discreetly, of course. I would disappear for a week or two to a ‘spa retreat’ and come back half the person I was before I left. And no one would be any wiser.
I would also come back to a wedding. My own.
I have seen the looks my father’s business partners give me whenever they are here. I have known for a while that it is only a matter of time before one of them makes my father an offer he can’t refuse, and I’m sold off like a prized steer in a herd of cattle. Under these circumstances, my father would expedite it to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.
I would take my own life before agreeing to a marriage with one of those vulgar, violent dimwits. I know what happens to their women behind closed doors, and I refuse to be treated like another one of their possessions. I will not let my only worth be tied to what I have to offer and how I can help further their empire. They are just like my father, every one of them. The only difference is that not one of them is as feared as my father.
Unfortunately, taking my own life is no longer a viable option, not with the result I am clutching in my hand. There are two lives at stake now.
No, I need to protect the life growing inside me at all costs.
Pacing up and down the length of the bathroom, I wrack my brain for anything I could do. I have no money of my own; everything I own is somehow tied to my father. Moving small amounts around to fund a night out is one thing, but the kind of money I would need to make a life for myself and my unborn child, to disappear, would mean a withdrawal from a bank. A withdrawal would need to get approval from my father, and that puts me right back where I started.
Unless I could convince someone to help me. Someone like the other contributor to the child I now carry. Theo seemed nice enough; the memories playing in my mind on repeat are evidence of that. And if he felt the connection between us like I think he did, he might be willing to help me. Based on the custom suit he wore the night we met, he has money. Hopefully enough to help me and his unborn child disappear.
The next day, I manage to convince Boris to take me shopping close to the club where Theo and I met under the guise of cheering me up. I give him the slip and retrace my steps from that night, heading towards what might be my last hope.
Chapter 4 - Fyodor
Red stains the front of my shirt, deep crimson splatters streaking across the white material. The sting in my knuckles is a much-needed escape from the thoughts that have consumed my mind for the last while. Every blow I administer burns the raw skin, and on the last swing, I hear the familiar crunch of bone.
The man bound to the chair in front of me coughs and sputters, blood spraying over one side of my pants.
This is not the usual start to my day, but I needed something to focus my thoughts on. I needed a distraction from the images I can’t seem to get rid of, the woman I can’t seem to forget.
Five weeks. That is how long I have had the memories of that night stuck in my mind, waking up to an empty bed and watching the footage of her sneaking out of the hotel room with my shirt covering her torn dress. I have had weeks to scour footage from the club every night in the hopes that she’ll come back, with no luck.
So instead of letting one of my soldiers handle the situation in front of me as I watched, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Literally.
Anatoly squints at me through swollen eyes, sputtering a few more times. “Fydor, please! Give me a chance to explain. I can pay you back; I can prove myself to you once more!”
My blood heats, and I grab the arms of the chair as I bring my face down until our noses are almost touching. “Have I not given you enough time to prove your loyalty? You have had years to show me you would be an asset, someone this organization could depend on, and you used that time to steal from me. Did you think I wouldn’t notice when the shipments had one car less than they should have?”
“I can make this right! I can fix this!” Panic creeps into his voice.
I push up, slowly pacing in front of him. “We are past that. You have taken what is mine, and not even for the good of your family. I could have understood the reasoning of a man doing whatever it takes to provide for his family. But you used the money to fund your gambling addiction. I welcomed you into my ranks and treated you with respect and this is how you decide to repay me? You have committed one of the most disgraceful acts; you have betrayed this family. I’m sure you can see how this would reflect negatively on me if it got out. An example has to be made.”
Anatoly opens his mouth, but I raise a hand to silence him, shaking my head.
“You have two options. You can take this like a man, whatever punishment we decide is fitting of the crime, and that will be the end of it. Or I can make this quick and painless, and afterward I will pay a visit to your wife and two children and enforce my example there.” I watch as fear, then defeat, and finally acceptance flit over his face.
His lips turn white as he presses them together before gripping the legs of the chair around which his hands are bound and nodding.
A look from me is all it takes for Gennady, my long-time torturer, to move forward with his bag of various instruments. Gennady generally takes great pleasure in extracting information that people are reluctant to part with. But knowing he has no obligation to keep someone alive is a real treat.
With the situation sorted, I grab the cloth slung over the back of the chair and wipe the blood off my hands. The red angry skin on my knuckles burns again, worse this time, but it’s still not enough to completely expel the siren in my thoughts.
I climb the stairs of the dark basement and head up to the top floor of the club, maneuvering through the various hallways until I reach a room at the very end of one. The large window that spans one wall overlooks the now-empty dance floor. This is where I spend most of my time, watching people come and go every night, small figures that look like ants milling around.
My brother, Kiril, is standing in my office when I walk in. He waits patiently as I pull an extra shirt and pants from the closet against one wall and strip off my blood-stained materials before addressing me.
“How did it go?” he asks.
I look at him as I button my shirt. “Gennady is handling it. Afterward, we’ll make sure the other organizations know how we have punished the betrayer, and they will realize it would not be wise to cross us.”
“And if it does not have the desired effect?”
