Taken by the Boss
Page 4
As I slam the door shut on my car, I glance around and see Dad’s black SUV and a few more I don’t recognize. How many people are here for this meeting? All afternoon, I tried to figure out what it might be.
In reality, I sense I already know, but don’t want to admit it. Dad has told me time and again that my place in this family is to find ways to support the family. Make alliances. The only way for me to do that is through marriage to another family. Dad has a reputation for being a brute, but there are plenty of men out there far worse than him. I stay by the car and try to get my hands to stop shaking. After my run-in with the goon on campus, I’ve been paranoid that I’m being watched far closer than I ever realized.
“You can do this,” I mutter to myself as I toss my black hair over my shoulders. “You are Stella Russo. And no matter what happens today, you are not going to get lost in this damn world.”
The words sound great, but they do little to bolster my confidence that I can make it through this evening. I tug on the black dress I’m wearing, making sure I look presentable, then walk toward the front door. My four-inch stiletto heels click across the stones and up the steps. One of the men opens the door for me at my approach, saying nothing as he does. I step inside a bright foyer with a crystal and silver chandelier. There are warm tones of beach wood framing the windows and doors. A set of stairs is set in the very middle of the room, going up to a loft and two hallways. The front door clicking shut behind me makes me jump.
Whoever owns this house, they’re far better off than my family. My nerves kick in again, and I clasp my hands together in front of me as they start shaking again.
I take a few steps inside, unsure of where to go. There’s no art on the walls, no homey touches at all, but something about this place seems familiar. I’ve never been here before, yet a vague memory of someone describing this place to me surfaces. I take a few more steps in and turn to find a mirror hanging on the right wall. While I’m alone, I check my appearance. My makeup is lightly applied. I like to go without it, but my mother would never hear of me not getting dolled up to come to a meeting with Dad. The black dress is form-fitting and low-cut. The single solitaire sapphire hangs from a white-gold chain around my neck. Two studs in my ears match it. My hair is lightly curled. I would’ve been fine with putting it up in a bun, but again, that is not allowed. I fluff my hair, mocking my mother in my mind. I hate her almost as much as I hate Dad.
“Miss?” a woman says from behind me.
I spin around and nearly topple over. She gives me a curious stare as I smile. Why does she seem familiar too? Where the hell am I? “Sorry,” I mumble.
“Right this way,” she says and walks to the left of the stairs.
There’s no more putting this meeting off. An impulsive voice screams at me to make a run for the door and drive off, but I stiffen, already hearing Dad’s furious shouting. I quickly catch up to the woman. The house is quiet, and my steps echo off the hardwood floors. We pass a double doorway that leads into a kitchen, then several more that are closed. The woman leads me to the very end of the hall, where a set of double wooden doors are closed. She knocks twice and waits.
“Enter,” a man’s voice replies loudly.
The woman slides one door open and motions me to go through. I give her one more long stare, knowing I’ve seen her before, then step inside the room. I take a second to glance around the shelf-lined walls filled with books and small statuettes. The rug in the center of the floor is plush and expensive. The furniture all appears to be hand-carved wood. I let my gaze drift toward the figures at the opposite side of the room. They all have their backs to me, but the second they turn, I freeze.
“Ah, there you are,” Dad says and hurries across the study toward me. He’s grinning, but the look in his eyes warns me not to make a scene. He takes my hand and pulls me closer so he can kiss my cheek. “Behave,” he whispers in my ear and squeezes. I wince at the sharp pain in my hand, then he lets go. “I believe you know our hosts.”
I can’t even fake a smile as my gaze slips from Mikhail Ivanov to the man I haven’t seen in five years. The man who stole my heart then crushed it. Danya. He’s holding a crystal glass in his right hand, his left shoved in the pocket of his black slacks. He’s wearing a dark green button-down shirt with the top buttons undone, giving me a glimpse of the tattoos covering his skin. His black jacket fits him perfectly. He didn’t have a beard the last time I saw him, and it gives him a rugged look that makes my knees tremble.
Why couldn’t he have gotten ugly? His eyes narrow slightly on my face as I struggle to get some sort of greeting out. His glance turns my uncertainty into anger. Why is he here? And how dare he look at me like I’m the one who stabbed him in the back? I square my shoulders and force a grin.
“Of course I do. Mikhail, thank you for having us,” I say politely, ignoring Danya’s stare.
“It is our pleasure, my dear. Now then, if we can all take our seats, we can begin this meeting,” Mikhail says. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
Mikhail is playing nice, and I have no idea why. I already know damn well how he feels about my family and me. I don’t like this situation, but Dad seems oblivious to the danger he’s put us in. We’ve walked right into a den of killers. Back when I knew Danya, he was in training to become an elite fighter for his father, but he had yet to take a life. Clearly, that has changed. He slams back the rest of his drink and promptly sits down in the end chair in front of the ornate desk. Mikhail resumes his seat behind it, and Dad motions me to take the middle chair right next to Danya. The urge to bolt from the room grows, but I shove it down. Doing so would embarrass Dad, and that is not a situation I’m prepared to deal with right now.
I take my seat as Dad sits down on my right. Danya won’t even look at me. His shoulders are stiff, and he looks ready to pounce. The tension in the air is thick, making it hard to breathe. Mind racing, I wait for someone to say something, anything to break the painful silence about to eat me alive.
“Now,” Mikhail finally says, “I hear you are attending classes at Columbia.”
I give Dad a sideways glance, but he’s still got that dumb grin on his face like he’s not about to make a deal with a devil and get burned. “I am.”
“And how are you liking them?”
In the back of my mind, I wonder if Mikhail knows more about my recent activities than Dad, but there’s no reason for him to care about me. I’m no one in his world. “Fine, I suppose. I should be finished within the next year.”
Mikhail nods in approval. “You’ll be of great use to the family with this degree. I’m sure your father is very proud.”
I uncross my legs then cross them again, shooting a glance at Danya. He’s glaring straight ahead as if this is the last place he wants to be. I’m right there with him. Seeing him looking like that makes me want to slap him. His father might have suddenly changed his mind about me, but it’s clear Danya hasn’t.
“Yes, she has,” Dad says when I don’t speak up. “She is certainly fulfilling her duties as a daughter of the Russo family. This next step will simply cement her new position.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I blurt. Danya tilts his head toward me but doesn’t speak. “What next step?”
I guess it’s too much to hope the Mafia king with connections in New York, Russia, Japan, and countless other places hasn’t brought Dad and me here for some sort of alliance that does not involve me doing what I think they want me to do. I grip the seat of the hard chair, holding my breath.
Mikhail stands, his eyes raking over me. My stomach roils at the sight, but I’m not the only one who reacts. Danya whispers something harsh in Russian. If his father heard it, he ignores his son and comes around the desk. He sits on the front right in front of me.
“Your father and I have decided it would be most beneficial to unite our families,” Mikhail explains. “You will marry my eldest son, Danya, and in exchange, one of my nieces will marry the son of your uncle.”
As my mind spins, trying to find any way out of this situation, Dad stands and holds out his hand to Mikhail. “We accept. With your aid, I can bring the Russo family back to its former glory and assist you in dealing with your enemies.”
Mikhail claps Dad on the shoulder, but the glint in his eyes says he’s up to something. Is Dad really so desperate that he can’t see through this man’s façade? Dad takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. Before I can turn to Danya, he storms out of the study.
“Excuse my son’s behavior,” Mikhail tells us as I’m left fuming. “He had a hard day of training.”
“Of course. Now then, when shall we make this official?” Dad asks eagerly.
I stand there, numb, as my life is taken away from me. How am I supposed to move forward with any sort of plan to escape this life when I have a husband? Dad managed to send his goons to spy on me. I have no idea what Danya is capable of or his father, for that matter. My life, my independence, it’s all going to disappear just like that. Mikhail and Dad go on and on, and I hardly listen until they say when the wedding will take place.
“Simple is best,” Mikhail states. “We’ll have it at our estate upstate, nothing fancy. I think they would prefer it that way.”
Dad stares at me, nodding behind Mikhail’s back. I want to say fuck no, but I smile. “Yes, the simpler, the better.” Because what young girl doesn’t dream of having her wedding turned into a business deal?
Mikhail and Dad go over more details, and then I’m guided to the study door. A week. I’m getting married to Danya Ivanov in a week. Once we’re out the front door, Dad tells me he’ll see me at home. I hurry to the Mustang without another word, slide in behind the wheel, and take off.
What the hell just happened? Dad swore up and down he’d never do business with the Ivanovs, and here we are about to literally get in bed with them. My nails dig into the leather of the steering wheel as I speed through the city. Danya and I are going to be married. What will that even entail? He’ll expect sex at some point, and what about an heir? I bite back a flurry of curses then let out a furious scream that bounces around the interior of the car. It competes with the roaring engine. I’m too pissed off to cry, not like crying will get me anywhere anyway.
I can’t do this. I can’t marry Danya. He betrayed me once already. What’s to stop him from doing it again? There was no sign of the guy I fell in love with in those hazel eyes today. Instead, it was like I stared at a younger version of Mikhail.
And now I’ll be stuck with him until death do us part.
By the time I reach home, Dad pulls up behind my Mustang. He calls my name, but I’m already at the front door. I throw it open and fume as I kick out of my heels and aim for the stairs.
“Stella,” Dad shouts, and I freeze on the staircase. “You will go through with this wedding, understand me?”
“How could you do this to me?” I yell, and the few guards we have inside, as well as the last remaining servants, turn their backs as if that’ll stop them from witnessing the fight about to happen. I’ve raised my voice a couple of times over the years, but this is different. I’m challenging Joseph Russo’s authority. In the back of my mind, I know how this is going to end, but it doesn’t stop me. “This is my life, and you just threw it away.”
“Family comes first,” he snaps, standing at the bottom of the steps.
“That’s fucking bullshit,” I rant as his face reddens. It’s a bad sign, but I’m too furious to shut up. “If family came first, you wouldn’t be tying me to one of the most dangerous families in the state.”
“This family is on the brink of ruin. This marriage of yours is going to pull us back from that brink. They will give us a leg up on the damn De Lucas who have spent years looking down on us.”
“Then why don’t you marry him, huh? You give up your life—”
“I’m giving you a better life,” he cuts me off harshly. “If you would stop for five seconds, you would understand that.”
“Understand what? That your daughter’s life means nothing to you? Who did you piss off that you have to ally yourself with Mikhail Ivanov? Have you completely lost your mind? Is old age making you stupid?”
His face shifts from red to purple as he charges up the stairs. “Watch your mouth, Stella. That is your only warning. You will do as I say or—”
“Or what? You’ve already ruined my life. What more can you do?”
I should’ve tried to run away years ago, but I was scared. And now it’s too late.
“We’ve made a deal, and you will hold up your end of the bargain.”
“Fuck you,” I yell and spit at him. The second I do it, the realization hits me that I just crossed a line. As Dad wipes the spit from his face, I spin around and bolt down the hall.
Dad shouts and chases after me. I can’t get the door to my room closed in time and he barrels through it. He snags me by my arm and drags me to him. His other clamps on my other arm, holding me in place. His fingers dig in until I scream at him to let me go. An image of Dad beating Mom when I was younger flashes before my eyes. She stood up to him one too many times and he put her in her place. She didn’t leave the house for almost a month while she healed. Would he do that to me? I kick and tear at my arms, but he shakes me hard enough to rattle my teeth. When I scream right in his face, he hauls off and backhands me.
Reeling from the hit, my head falls to the side and he yanks it back by my hair.
“We made a deal,” he says through gritted teeth, his purple face turning even darker in his rage. “You do not go back on a deal with the Ivanovs. If you do not show up to your own wedding, you are condemning all of us to death, do you understand me?”
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” I whisper, and he raises his hand to hit me again, but drops it. “Why me, huh? I’m no one.”
“You’re the daughter of Joseph Russo. That’s why.”
I glare at my father as I mutter against my better judgment, “The daughter of a failure.”
He bares his teeth at me like a beast instead of a man, then bellows in rage. He throws me into the wall. I gasp at the jarring pain and wait for him to come after me again, only he doesn’t. He slams my bedroom door shut on his way out, and I’m left there crumpled on the floor. Angry, hot tears burn in my eyes, and I swiftly wipe them away. Nothing about this deal makes sense. If Mikhail wanted Danya to marry me to benefit their family, he would’ve let us get married years ago.
Not have Danya kick me out of the house like I was trash.
I stay on the floor for a long time, taking stock of the fresh bruises on my upper arms. My bottom lip is split from Dad’s hit. The strong taste of copper fills my mouth as I lick my lips gingerly. A knock comes at the door, and I flinch.
“Stella?” Mom calls.
I don’t want to see her, but I open the door anyway. Her eyes widen slightly at the state I’m in, but she sighs. I let her in, and she closes the door behind her.
“Your father says you need to pack. You’ll be moving in with Danya after the wedding.”
“That’s all you’re going to say to me?” I ask, voice trembling.
She walks to the oversized closet and removes a suitcase. “You have a week, but it wouldn’t hurt to start now,” she says as if I hadn’t asked her a question at all.
“Mom, look at me.”
Hannah Russo shuts her eyes then finally looks to me. “I’ve told you countless times to remember your place, Stella. I suggest you take my advice once you’re married so this does not happen ag
ain. Danya has a reputation for being a cold-hearted killer. He is his father’s son. I trust you’ll remember that.”
“Why is he marrying me off to them?” I ask hotly. “Why?”
“You know he doesn’t tell me anything. It’s not my place or yours to know. We’re here to support our family, and that’s all.”
“How can you live like this?” I take Mom’s hands and force her to look at me. “Is this really what you want for me?”
She squeezes my hands as tears shimmer in her eyes. “I want you to live, Stella. It’s either you marry Danya, or you go down with the rest of the family when someone finally comes for your father.”
The weight of her words cuts me deep. Mom did her best to keep me safe, I know that. It hurts to see her this beaten down, and there’s nothing I can do. She’s stuck with Dad until one of them dies. I have no way of knowing what type of man Danya is, but if there’s a chance I can still get myself out of this life, I’m taking Mom with me. She gently pats my cheek, smiling sadly.