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He cleared his throat. “Come downstairs. I’ll heat something for us to eat.” He stretched out his hand to me, but I didn’t take it. Pushing myself up from the bed, I walked past him.
He heated frozen pizza for us to eat. We sat at two opposite ends of the dining table. We didn’t say a word to each other as we ate; the tension was too palpable, and we hated each other too much for light conversations over dinner.
Once I finished—hurriedly—eating, I picked up my plate and made to leave.
“Gianna.”
I froze at how deep and throaty he called my name. I turned around, raising my brow.
“Sit down.
I didn’t like how authoritative his tone was. “You can’t order me around, Maxim. I’m not one of your boys.”
The cold expression on his face told me he wasn’t in the mood to argue. I dropped my plate on the table and sat. “Make it quick; I’m tired.”
His eyes floated over me, pausing on my breasts for way too long for me not to feel nervous. He was looking at me as if I was naked. Pervert.
I revered his attention. I liked that I still had some sort of effect on him, I needed it if I was going to convince him to set me free.
“Get prepared, you’ll speak to someone tomorrow.”
“Who is that?”
He held my gaze, emotion flickering in his blue eyes before he said, “Your father.”
A shiver ran down my spine. “M-my father?” I swallowed. I didn’t want to talk to him. I couldn’t. What if my father told Maxim about the twins? What would I do then? “No, I’m not speaking to him.”
“You will.”
Tears ran down my cheeks. “I can’t, please. Don’t make me do it.”
His face remained cold, he was clearly unmoved by my tears. “If you don’t want the call to happen, then there’s something you must do for me.”
I straightened up. “What is that? I’ll do anything.”
He rested back in his seat. “Tell me the truth about the bruises on you.”
So that was it. I had to choose between being vulnerable in front of him and risking him finding out about the kids. I didn’t think twice; I’d made my choice. “Fine, let’s do it.”
Chapter 8 - Maxim
I’d been in my office this evening when Damien came in. He’d told me about Gianna’s mother dying in a shootout. That explained why she thought I was responsible for her death.
But why would she have randomly assumed it was me? Someone must’ve fed her lies about me to make her believe something so ridiculous.
“And the hospital records?”
“Viktor sent you an email. Turns out her father was an abusive asshole,” he’d said.
My fists clenched, and anger blossomed in my chest like I’d never known. He was her father, but how could he abuse his own daughter? Being angry was not enough, I wanted to kill him, and I’d get the chance someday.
First, I needed to make Gianna realize the things he did to her were not okay. She hated me, but that wouldn’t stop me from making her see that her father was a monster. I wasn’t much different, I’d locked her up in that room. I hated myself for doing that.
“You were right,” she choked out. “He used to hit me. He used to beat me up whenever a deal fell through, or I didn’t accomplish a task he gave me.”
My heart drummed in my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me when we first met?”
“It wasn’t that bad then.” She kept her gaze on the ground. “It only became worse after you killed my mama.”
