Page 79 of Baby for the Bratva King

A sweat drizzles down his face, like melting wax. He looks like someone sucked all the life out of him. Makes a fucking change.

I glance at the spear in his hand, which he was holding over his shoulder before. Weird thing to bring to a party, but I guess he wanted the grim reaper costume to look realistic.

“Tell me what happened,” he says, concern appearing between his brow. “You look frightened.” The lines grow deeper. “Why would you go to one of those nightclubs and do those things to yourself?”

This is about his reputation, not about him suddenly caring.

But I see a hint of warmth in his eyes, hear his voice snap for the first time in years, and it rubs me the right way. Is my father finally coming to his senses?

“I’m…” I trail off, about to apologize for everything, but I shut my mouth before the word shoots out. “It pays well, and I would never do anything to disrespect this family.”

My father sighs, netting his hands together. “I’m afraid it might be too late for that.” He steps closer, shadows playing on his face as he comes away from the light. “What is going on with you and Felix Pozharsky? Answer truthfully, sweetheart. I’m not angry.”

Of course he’s not. Felix is the one in the firing line.

“Did you dance for him?”

Technically, no, but if I knew he was in the audience I maybe would have reconsidered and added a few more aerial tricks into my routine, really getting him on the edge of his seat.

My father searches my face, wanting the truth now. Lying might cost me everything. It could destroy the hope, and this is the first time in years he’s looked at me like he cares.

He doesn’t, Saskia.

Stop chasing the receding tide.

But the tide is right here, waiting for answers, chasing me.

“I…”

“You can do it, Saskia.”

“Saskia does not need to speak to you,” says another voice, a thick Russian accent ringing through the hallway.

I stall, stumbling back as Felix spawns out of thin air like Dracula himself. His lips are red, his sculpted cheekbones like two dark lines, setting the tone for his entire face.

He stands way above my father, almost a whole foot taller than him. The cloak, along with the black and white tux, paints him in a very unholy light. Shadows play on his face, defining his bone structure, making everything look more cutthroat. His jaw could make someone bleed, and as for those hands—curled into fists at his side—I’m sure he could take someone’s life, no knife needed.

This is who he becomes when the sun goes down. A true villain that shows no mercy.

Felix restrains himself, keeping those fists locked at his side as he confronts my father. “Stay away from Saskia.”

My father glances at Felix briefly and returns to me. “Is this who you want to be seen out in public with? A womanizer.”

“Felix isn’t⁠—”

“Open a magazine and educate yourself, sweetheart. Your misery is becoming the world’s entertainment.”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Not yet, sweetheart, but it’s only a matter of time. Felix is humiliating you, breaking you down into something weak. Whether he knows that or not, it’s the truth. Take a look at the women who came before you, left heartbroken in hotel rooms, discarded like a piece of trash. You’re a human being.”

“As you would know,” interjects Felix. “Having treated your daughters as human beings, not marketing strategies.”

For a brief second, I see anger flash in my father’s eyes, but he clears his throat and decides to pour water over the fire. “I understand some people may see it that way, especially after London when you were seen in Mayfair with Felix.” My father directs his attention to me. “You’re an adult now, capable of making your own decisions, but tread very carefully.” Concern lines my father’s face again. “Did he put you in this costume?”

“No.” I stick my hands on my hips. “I chose it myself.”

My father bows his head, understanding.