by Bea Paige
“Fuck! Rose!” I roar, slamming the force of my whole body into the door. I’m vaguely aware of Anton rushing towards me.
“Erik, what the fuck is going on?”
“It’s Rose, find Ivan. Some motherfucker has her,” I manage to bite out before throwing myself against the door for a second time. It rattles in its frame, but it doesn’t open.
“ERIK!” Rose screams, before I hear another male grunt and a sound that’s very much like bone meeting bone.
“Rose?” I shout, slamming my fist on the door.
Silence.
“You motherfucker!” I shout.
The red mist falls.
Someone has my Rose and they’re hurting her.
That someone is going to fucking die tonight.
Pacing backwards to the other side of the hallway I run at the door, throwing all my weight and every ounce of rage against it. The lock gives way sending me sprawling into the room. Within seconds my brain has analysed the scene before me.
A huge burly man, dressed in a tuxedo similar to mine, is holding a frightened Rose around the waist, one hand wrapped around her throat. Her dress is torn at the knee, her hair dishevelled, and one shoe has come off in the struggle. She looks as though she’s been fighting for her damn life.
“One move towards me and I snap her neck,” he says.
I allow myself one moment to look into her eyes and my heart fucking breaks. She’s afraid, yes. But she’s more afraid of what I’m about to do. She knows that I’m going to kill this man.
“Don’t, Erik,” she manages to say, her eyes brimming with tears.
Her lip is bleeding from a small cut, and her right cheek swelling. Then I see the shiner already blooming around his eye and realise that whilst he might have hit her, she’s given as good as she’s got. A swell of pride widens in my chest.
“I’m giving you five seconds to let her go before I murder your arse,” I bite out. My whole body is filled with a rage so deep that I’m about ready to rip this man to shreds for laying a hand on my love.
“What the fuck?” Ivan says from behind me. I hear a tray of drinks smash to the floor as he and Anton enter the space beside me.
“Who sent you?” Anton bites out, his voice dark, deadly. Unrecognisable.
The man loosens his hold on Rose’s neck, but not his grip around her waist. She sucks in lungsful of air, a tear springing from her eyes as she looks at us all.
“I asked you a question. Who. Fucking. Sent. You?” Anton repeats.
“No names. Just a target,” the man shrugs, relaxed as fuck. Doesn’t he realise he’s about to die?
“Viktor,” Ivan bites out, and we all know it to be true.
“First you’re going to die, and then I’m going to kill that bastard,” I bite out moving towards the man.
“No. Don’t,” Rose squeaks, shaking her head furiously.
“Better listen to your woman. You murder me now and the police will be on your arse in minutes. I figure that’s the outcome my employer desires above all else. Looks like I’m as much a sacrificial lamb as this one,” the man responds, releasing Rose from his hold.
The second he lets her go, she runs into Ivan’s open arms. Her sobs are enough to shear my soul in two. “You, motherfucker, are going to pay for laying a finger on my woman,” I grind out, before launching towards him. I manage to get in three bone fracturing punches before Anton pulls me off.
“Enough, Erik. This is what he wanted. There are other ways to manage this,” he grinds out, panting from the effort of holding me back.
The man gets up on his feet and gives me a respect filled look. “I’ll take those punches for upsetting your woman, but I am gonna walk out of here alive and you’re gonna let me,” he grinds out.
“You fucking cunt,” I growl, desperately wanting to finish him, but knowing I can’t when I see the crowd of people gathering outside the bathroom door. This set-up stinks of Viktor. Why do the job yourself when you can get someone else to do it for you?
“Nothing to see here,” the man says strolling through the crowd. They part for him, not one of them trying to stop him. I move to go after the bastard, but Anton stops me once again.
“Not here, brother. Revenge is a better dish served cold. He’ll get what’s owed to him after we deal with Viktor.”
Gritting my jaw, I nod tightly, knowing he’s right. With a trembling body, I reach for Rose who’s still folded within Ivan’s arms.
“Come here, Rose,” I say, needing to feel her touch, needing to know she’s okay.
Ivan releases her and she steps into my arms, her fingers gripping onto the material of my tuxedo as she sobs against me.
Back in the hotel room, Ivan stays with Rose as she lies in the bath whilst Anton and I talk.
“This ends now,” I say, knocking back a second shot of whiskey. I’m still murderous, and the amber liquid is doing nothing to take the edge off. “As long as she’s ours, he will still keep coming after her. My question is why now?”
Anton slams his palm against the coffee table between us. “This is my fault. I fucking forced his hand. He might’ve left her alone had it not been for me.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, stiffening.
He looks at me with deep sorrow. “I’ve been making some phone calls these past couple of days to business associates of Viktor’s.”
“About what?”
“About the real man behind the business mogul. About the dodgy shit he’s been involved in over the years. Viktor is retaliating in the only way he knows how, by hurting the people I love the most. I should’ve fucking killed him when I had the chance.”
“And we should’ve let you,” I respond. A look passes between us, but we aren’t able to discuss our thoughts further because Ivan and Rose enter the room. She’s wrapped up in a thick plush bathrobe, her hair still damp and without a spot of makeup. My heart aches at the exhaustion in her eyes and the bruise on her cheek.
“I’m going to bed,” she says, trying and failing to give me a reassuring smile.
Getting up, I stride over to her and cup her face gently. “How do you feel?” I ask her, running my hand gently over the swelling on her cheek and lip.
“I’ve felt worse,” she says, bravely. “I’m glad he only managed to give me a slap and not a punch. Pretty sure he would’ve broken my cheekbone had he hit me any harder. Though I’m glad I didn’t hold back in the same way. I think he was surprised I was capable of fighting back, honestly.” She smiles at me, trying to protect my heart by making light of the situation.
“Fuck, Rose. He should never have been able to get to you at all,” I respond, and I don’t just mean the hired hand Viktor sent to rough Rose up, but Viktor himself. This was Viktor’s way at warning Anton to back the fuck off. We should’ve let Anton kill Viktor. In fact, I should’ve helped. Pressing a kiss against Rose’s mouth I look over at Ivan. “Take Rose to bed. Stay with her. I’ll be with you both in a moment.”
“Anton?” Rose asks, her gaze falling to my brother who is looking at us all with guilt and heartbreak. She’s worried about him. Even like this, shattered and vulnerable, she’s still thinking of everyone else. This woman astounds me.
“Please, go to sleep. I’ve got things to sort out,” he manages to say, wincing at how cold it comes out. He looks at her apologetically. “I’m sorry. I just wish…”
“Don’t do anything stupid. I need you,” she says gently before turning on her feet and following Ivan into the bedroom.
“It’s too late, I already have,” he mutters, grasping his head in his hands.
“What are you going to do?” I ask him.
“What I should’ve done years ago, ruin him.”
Chapter 25
Anton
Looking out of the penthouse suite window, I gaze at the city lights of London stretching out before me. It’s way past midnight, but the city is still buzzing and full of life. As I stand here steaming up the window with my breath, a sudden
yearning for home and the quite peace of Cornwall calls to me. Apart from the last few years at Browlace, I’ve lived in London my whole life, but I don’t miss the hustle and bustle in the slightest. My creative mind has always yearned for the quiet peace that only living in the countryside can fulfil. The sooner we leave the better, frankly. But not before I’ve settled a few scores. I’ll never live with myself if I don’t.
Padding over to the bedroom suite, I peer into the space that’s illuminated only by the city lights peeking through the half closed curtains. Rose, Ivan and Erik are all sleeping, curled up on the bed together, the day’s events exhausting them all emotionally. Erik is pressed against Rose’s back, spooning her with his body. Ivan faces them both, his arm thrown over Rose and Erik, clutching them close. I wish I could feel as peaceful.
But sleep evades me. I still have a debt to settle, and it’s been years in the making.
Snatching up my coat draped over the chair, I pull the door shut and make a quick call to the hotel reception. Five minutes later I’m sitting in the hotel lobby, drinking a whisky whilst I wait for my cab. Swirling the amber liquid in the glass I think about what I’m about to do. Is it wise? Probably not, but I’m not leaving London until it’s done. Another quick phone call earlier has put things into motion, and I’m about to see the fall out. I hope the effect is as nuclear as I think it’s going to be. Revenge will be sweet.
“Anton, where are you going?”
Shit.
Looking up, I see Rose approaching me, a look of concern on her face. She’s no longer in her robe and nightwear but fully dressed with a determined look plastered on her face.
“I heard you leave. Where are you going?” she asks again, as the concierge indicates my cab has arrived. I stand, pulling on my jacket.
“Anton?”
“There’s something I need to do, Rose.”
“And you thought it best to do that in the middle of the night, alone, after everything that’s happened today? Let me guess, you’re going to finish what you started at Browlace?”
“I didn’t start it, he did, but I’m sure as fuck going to finish it,” I retort, not willing or able to back down. This is non-negotiable. I will not have her life threatened again. Too many people have been fucked over by Viktor, I will not let him ruin us too.
“Do you have a death wish?” She folds her arms across her chest, anger and worry tightening her jaw.
Sighing, I scrape a hand through my hair which is hanging loose around my shoulders. The length has always pissed my father off. It’s a tiny show of rebelliousness that I use to my advantage. Besides, I like my hair down. He can go fuck himself. But then again after tonight, his opinion as to the matters of my hair won’t be a fucking problem anymore.
“Not a death wish, no.”
She cocks her eyebrows, not in the least bit convinced. “I call bullshit. You feel guilty about what happened, but you didn’t send the brute to rough me up. Viktor did. Don’t put yourself in danger for me.”
“I feel guilty because I am responsible, Rose.”
“No you’re not!” she insists.
“I made some calls to several of his business associates. I’ve stirred up trouble and this is his response. He hurts me by hurting you. Well, after tonight he’s not going to hurt another soul. Viktor’s going to wish he never touched you.”
“Then I’m coming. You’re not doing this alone.”
“No fucking way, Rose. I put you in danger tonight, I won’t do that again.”
“Tough shit, Anton. I’m coming,” she responds, folding her arms across her chest and daring me to deny her.
“That makes three of us then,” Erik says, stepping out of the lift, Ivan following him.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I exclaim, throwing my hands up in the air.
“You think we’d let you do this alone? Shut-up and get in the cab,” Ivan says, brooking no argument. “Besides, where Rose goes, we follow, and if she insists on going, then so do we.”
Half an hour later we arrive in Chelsea outside my father’s home, a large Edwardian house with a ridiculous number of rooms, hardly any of them used given he lives there on his own. It’s my house too really, but I’ve not set foot in the place for years. I don’t particularly want to enter now but I must. This is the last conversation I’m going to have with my father. After this he’s dead to me, to everyone, hopefully.
Pressing the number combination on the lock, I push open the door. My father hasn’t updated it for years; 02071980. Erik’s birthdate. Not mine, Erik’s. His first born son’s. For years that hurt me knowing he used Erik’s birthdate as the door code. Back then I thought it was because he loved Erik for all his talent, not realising the true reason. But it doesn’t hurt me anymore because I no longer seek my father’s approval, I don’t seek his love or his respect because it’s worth nothing to me now. Rose gives me all that I need, and Erik and Ivan are the only men I need in my life. My soulmate and my brothers.
Here by my side.
Knowing that gives me the strength to finish what I started by making those phone calls. Would I have acted differently had I known the outcome for Rose? Absolutely. There’s no way on earth I would’ve knowingly put her in danger like that. But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. This ends tonight.
Stepping into the hallway, I push down the feeling of inferiority and stride towards my father’s study. Growing up, he spent all his time in this room whilst my mother and I were relegated to other parts of the house. She and I used to spend a lot of time together in the den, reading, watching television and laughing. Then Ms Hadley arrived with a five year old Erik and everything changed. Granted, my father was still as aloof and cold with me as he’d always been, but it was my mother who changed for the worse.
The drinking started a week after Ms Hadley arrived with the boy who would become my best friend, the prescription drugs a month later. I lost my beautiful, kind-hearted mother many years before her body gave up on living. I grieve for her still, the mother I loved with all my heart, destroyed by the father who could never love me and the woman who brought up his first born son.
Stopping at the door to his study I draw in a deep breath, then push it open. As expected, my father is sitting behind his desk working. I’m not even sure if he ever really sleeps, either way the chair he’s sitting on must be well worn from all the hours and hours of time he’s spent here scheming, making money, losing money and expanding his many businesses. Not to mention all the lives he’s ruined in the process.
He looks up as we enter. There isn’t any surprise on his face, just an amused kind of acceptance, as though he’s been expecting us and finds it all mildly amusing.
Tosser.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he says, his tongue curling around the words with distaste.
“Hello, Father,” Erik and I say simultaneously.
There’s a glimmer of shock in his eyes before he quickly covers it up with a slow smile. “So, you finally figured it out?” He leans back in his seat and folds his arms across his chest.
“That and quite a few other things,” I respond.
“Is that so?” he retorts, an arrogant smirk darkening his face.
“You sent someone to hurt Rose and you’re going to pay dearly for it,” Erik snarls.
Viktor smiles slowly, taking great pleasure at seeing the bruise blooming on Rose’s cheek. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says.
“Don’t do that, you prick. We know you sent that fucking brute to do your dirty work. We know about Isabelle. We know you murdered her, that you married my mother for money, that all of this,” I say, flinging my arms wide, “was built on lies, deceit and blood.”
“I see Clara has been talking. You know you shouldn’t listen to the ravings of a mad old woman. She’s not in her right mind.”
I laugh, the sound bitter and hate filled. “Do you enjoy torturing the women you profess to love? Do you enjoy watching your children suf
fer? Does that make you happy?” I spit out, trying and failing to keep my cool.
“Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice, you know as well as I that you’re capable of the same… Look at that poor girl, what was her name…?” he pauses for affect, tapping his finger against his closed mouth. “Oh, yes, Amber. Perhaps we’re more alike than you think?”
“Cunt,” Ivan bites out, stepping forward. I hold my hand out to stop him. This is my fight, not his.
My father snaps his eyes to Ivan, they narrow. “Or wait, how about you? Svetlana slit her wrists because of the hell you put her through. I’m not the only man to fuck with feeble-hearted women with ridiculous notions of love. How was the ballet this evening, by the way?”
“Shut the fuck-up, Viktor,” Erik snaps. “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”
He laughs maniacally. “Now, now, boys. Empty threats are just that. You know as well as I do that you have no evidence to do a damn thing, and even if you did, I have enough money and know enough people in high places to get myself out of any shit you attempt to mar my name with.”
He looks at all of us smugly and I want to fucking kill him. I want to fucking kill him for all that he’s done. For the lives he has ruined. For my mother who loved him despite his faults. For Erik’s mother who trusted in his love and was betrayed in the worst possible way. For hurting Rose.
One way or another, tonight this cunt is going down.
Rose steps up beside me, her fingers twining with mine.
“I’m here,” she reminds me, calming my fraying temper. She’s so cool, so calm. So fucking strong. I’m doing everything possible to not lose complete control. It’s imperative that I keep my head. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing me losing my shit again. When he came to Browlace, I lost it totally and whilst it felt good to wrap my hands around his throat it only proved to him that I’m a man who allows his emotions to control him. Not this time. This time, I’ve come prepared. There are other, better ways to destroy a person. One phone call to the right person, that’s all it’s taken to ruin my father in the only way it’ll really hurt him; through his wallet. I don’t know why I didn’t just do that in the first place.