by SR Jones
“I’m not, though,” she continues. “I’m married to Andrius. I’m not stating that as a threat, by the way, but to say big scary Russians don’t intimidate me anymore because I’m married to one. I know you have the girl who shot Konstantin in there.”
I don’t say anything, not sure where she’s going with this. “Cassie wants her dead,” she says.
“I don’t blame her.” I might want Zoey very much alive, but I understand Cassie’s feelings perfectly.
“Andrius wants her dead.”
“Yes, he does,” I say.
“Konstantin is going to live, isn’t he?”
“I think so, but he’s going to take a long time to recover.”
“I know. I do, I understand. If that were Andrius in that hospital bed, I’d want that woman dead too, but from what little I’ve been told, she was forced, to a degree.”
“Yes, she was.” I keep my answers short and factual, but I’m starting to feel some hope. Could Violet be an ally in this?
“I don’t want Andrius to order her death,” she says quietly. “He has a code. It will haunt him.”
I don’t know how much Violet knows about her husband, and yes, he does have a code, but he probably considers Zoey an enemy combatant, and I am pretty sure he shot women in some of the horrible wars he’d have been involved in. “She shot K,” I say. “On his property. You know how he feels about keeping you safe.”
“I do, and I love him for it, but I don’t want this on his soul. He believes, you know, in God. Despite all he’s seen. He will regret this in the future. I know he will. You could talk to him? I know you men probably all think she should die for what she did, but if she were acting under duress, doesn’t that change things?”
She thinks I want her dead too.
I scrub a hand over my face and blow out a breath. “Violet, I don’t want her killed either.”
“You don’t?” She focuses on me, her brows knitted together.
“No, I don’t, but don’t breathe a word of that because Ilya most certainly does. I’m on her side. You work on Andrius, and maybe you can persuade him not to push for her to be killed. There are people above her we need to worry about.”
Her eyes widen a little, and I curse myself for saying as much as because she’ll be worried now and scared for their child.
“Listen, it’s all going to be okay, but I don’t think killing Zoey is the answer, so if you can talk to Andrius, I’ll deal with Ilya.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to him, but in these matters, he doesn’t always listen to me.”
I smile at her then because I know that Andrius would hang the moon for his Violet. “I bet you could persuade him.”
“Perhaps.”
She smiles at me once more, glances at the house, nods and walks back to the guards who escort her down the drive. One more ally in the keep Zoey alive corner. I glance at my watch. Shit, I need to get a suit and a wedding-appropriate dress, but I can’t leave Ilya alone with Zoey, and I can’t send him. I head back into the house and go upstairs to Zoey’s clothes. I take a note of her measurements and then look up stores in Corfu Town. I find one that sells both men’s and women’s clothing, and I order a dark blue suit and a pale cream linen dress for Zoey. It isn't her style, I’m sure, but I don’t have time to play personal shopper here. I also add in two thongs and a push-up bra, plus some heels. It costs me a ton of extra money to get the store to send someone to deliver it this afternoon, but it’s worth it.
One thing I know for sure, Zoey is going to kick up a stink once she gets what’s happening here, so I need Alexei to be my witness, not anyone else. We might need to use some intimidation to get my bride-to-be down that aisle. I message him telling him to expedite his travel plans, and book a private jet if needs be.
That done with, I sit outside and smoke a cigarette as I think through all the possible permutations of what I’m about to do.
Chapter Twelve
Zoey
I sleep like shit, tossing and turning, but I do manage to drop off a few times. Each time I sleep, I wish I hadn’t as I do nothing but have nightmares about Esme. Horrific, terrible dreams have me waking, gasping, and soaking in sweat. By the fourth one, I’ve had enough, and I keep myself awake plotting all the ways I’m going to make those bastards, especially Number Two, pay for everything they've done.
Vasily is asleep next door. It seems he might want to fuck me, but he’s not at the cuddling up together at night stage. I’m relieved because I’m a mental and emotional wreck, and he’d witness that, but if I want to get him on my side, I need some sort of emotional bond to form between us. It doesn’t have to be love, I’m not an idiot, but I think more than a quick hate-fuck is needed if he’s going to become my knight in shining armor. Or as I envisage it, my co-fighter in this war I’m involved in.
My limbs are uncomfortable because although Vasily tied me in a much nicer position and gave me a t-shirt to boot, I am still tied, and it doesn’t make for easy movement.
The dawn is here. Happy birds are chirping outside, unaware of the drama, sadness, and grief us stupid humans inflict on ourselves and one another. Here we are, the highest life form on this green planet, supposedly, and yet in many ways we’re the lowest. We’re destructive. We are jealous. Greedy. Insecure. Animals with just enough brain power to make us deadly and not enough to make us truly wise.
As I muse my misanthropic thoughts, I hear footsteps. The door to my room opens, and Vasily strides in. I stare at him. He’s wearing smart trousers and a shirt. It’s open at the collar, and you can see his ink, but it’s dressy, very much so for him as he seems to live in jeans.
“Got a meeting?” I ask dryly.
“Sort of, yeah. And you need to come,” he tells me. “You need to do so quietly. Ilya’s still sleeping.”
I frown. It’s early morning; where would we be going?
“He doesn’t know we’re going on this little trip?” I ask.
Vasily snorts. “No, babe. He’s sleeping like the dead. I gave him some vodka with an Ambien chaser. He’ll not wake if you’re quiet and quick.”
“Maybe I ought to wake him. Scream the house down? Why should I trust you?”
He runs a hand over his face, as if wiping away the tired lines there. “I’m trying to help you, you dumb ass. Get the fuck up, get in the shower, be quick and quiet, and do as you’re told.”
“I can’t get up because you tied me to the bed, you dumb dick. And your morning personality is even less charming than it is the rest of the time. Untie me, and I will do as you say, oh mighty one.”
He crosses to the bed, unties me, and then hands me a bag. “Put this dress and shoes on. You need to look normal for where we’re going today.”
“I can look normal in my jeans.”
He barks out a laugh. “They’re filthy. Get a shower, and put the fucking dress on.”
“Yes, sir.” I give him a mock salute, grab the bag hard enough to hurt his hand when he doesn’t let go in time, and saunter past him to the bathroom.
Despite my anger at him, I do as he says and keep quiet. If he’s trying to help me as he says, then why would I fuck that up? If he’s not, once I’m out of this house, I can try to get away. Showered, I dry my hair as much as I can with the towel and then take the comb out of the bad and run it through my locks. There’s also some other basics. Deodorant. Some cheap-brand moisturizer. Hairspray. I laugh at that. I don’t use hairspray. Did Vasily buy this crap for me? He has no idea what I would use. There’s no makeup, so I’m going to look like shit. There’s perfume, but I’ve never heard of it before. I spray it in the air, and it smells like something you’d clean your kitchen with. I leave it off.
Taking out the clothes, I pull on the thong and smirk. Yeah, Vasily got this. Then the push-up bra. Next is the dress. It’s so plain. Cream linen? Knee-length? Shapeless? Does he think I’ve aged fifty years and become the mother of the bride? What a weird thing for him to get me. Then again, if we’re meeting wit
h people, maybe to get me papers, he possibly thinks I ought to look respectable.
Seeing as Vasily is the least respectable person I’ve ever met, and that includes amongst his circle of hoodlum friends, it makes sense that his idea of respectable is some sort of dated, matronly outfit. The shoes are a bit better, but not much. It all fits, though. I wrestle with my rapidly drying hair, trying to make it look halfway decent.
Walking out of the bathroom, I almost scream when I bump right into Vasily. He’s holding my lip gloss in his hand. “Put it on, then give it back.”
So many issues! He needs deep therapy.
I snatch the gloss, though, because I look like shit, close the door on him and go back to the mirror. I apply it to my lips and then a bit to the apples of my cheeks. It gives a nice, sheeny glow. At least now I look halfway awake. God, I’d kill for some mascara, though.
Opening the door, I throw the lip gloss back at my psychotic captor who catches it, pockets it, and takes my hand. We head down the stairs, me making sure to keep my tread light in my heels, and out of the door.
I startle at the sight of the man standing in front of a dark car. He’s huge. I recognize him, though, and I can’t recall if I’ve seen him, or if it’s from photographs the Order showed me of all those around Konstantin. This one is Alexei, if I remember correctly.
He has thick, wavy dark hair, and it’s a little longer than most men wear it at the back, so it curls over his collar. Handsome, in a thuggish way. He’s wearing a gray shirt, the sleeves rolled up to show broad forearms, covered with a smattering of dark hair.
His big watch catches the sun; I think it’s a Breitling. Where his shirt is open there’s a heavy gold cross. His skin is dark, and his eyes are even darker. He squints at me. “Ah, there you are,” he says in heavily accented English. “You look beautiful. Are we ready to go to the … meeting?”
He smirks at Vasily, and a distinctly uncomfortable feeling twists in my stomach. “What’s going on?” I ask Vasily.
The next moment, Alexei has his thick arm around my shoulders, and something hard pointed in my side. “I’m very tired. I’ve flown a long way to be here for this meeting. Get in the back of the car with me, and don’t make a fuss.”
Does he have a knife to my ribs? Oh my God, is he going to kill me?
“Vasily?” I turn to him, terrified suddenly. I knew he was dangerous, but maybe I’ve underestimated by how much. “What’s going on?”
“All in good time,” he says. Then his face softens a tiny amount. “This is to help you, Zoey. You might not like it, but it’s to help you. Now get in the car, and don’t cause Alexei problems. He doesn’t have my patience.”
Alexei pushes me into the car and then slides in beside me, the knife pressing against my skin.
“Do you mind moving that knife?” I ask. “I’d hate it if you slipped and gutted me.”
“Yeah, move the fucking knife,” Vasily orders from the front as he crunches the car across the gravel. “If I had to brake hard, you might end up filleting her like a fish, and that won’t do.”
“No worries, milady.” Alexei smirks at me. “But try anything, and I will put it right back where it was.”
I sigh and look out of the window. After about ten minutes, I kick the seat in front of me. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask.
“It’s a surprise,” Vasily replies infuriatingly.
“Do you know?” I turn to Alexei.
His smirk turns into a full blown grin, and it’s all I need to tell me he knows.
Bastards.
“I don’t have time to waste,” I say angrily. “I need to find Esme.”
“How the fuck are you going to find her?” Vasily challenges. “You’re going to what, head on back to England and track down three men whose names you don’t know, who you have no contact details for? Men who most likely do know where you are, even right now, and simply can’t get to you because you’re with us. Damen, Reece, Luka, and Alesso are all on it. Leave it to them, and once they have something concrete, we can go find these fuckers.”
“We?” My heart lifts with hope. “You’ll take me?”
“Of course.” He catches my eye in the rearview mirror, and his are deadly serious. “You deserve to get your revenge on them for what they’ve done to you and your daughter. I would never deny you that.”
Wow, he is a knight in shining armor. I stare at the back of his head, and I can’t decide if I want to kiss him or kill him. “When do I get to speak to this Luka?”
“Soon as he calls.” Vasily keeps his eyes on the road, and I sigh and turn to look out the window once more.
We pull up and park, eventually, in a tiny old village, and as I step out of the car, I admire the beauty. There’s a gorgeous church, and I head over to it, loving the smell of incense that wafts from it. It’s absolutely heavenly, which I guess is the idea.
Vasily follows me and puts his hand on my back. “Nice church, huh?”
“Beautiful,” I say.
“Nice venue for a wedding.”
“Yeah, if you’re religious, but I’m not.”
“Me either, but sometimes beggars can’t be choosers.”
What is he talking about? I glance at him confused, my brows drawn, and his expression chills me. It’s … triumphant I would say.
“Vasily, what’s going on?”
“A wedding.”
“You brought me to a wedding?”
I glance around me, not seeing any cars or people.
“Yes. You need to do exactly as I say, okay? This is about keeping you alive, so that when I get your daughter back for you, she’ll have a mother.”
“And a new father,” Alexei snorts.
What? A sinking feeling fills the pit of my stomach.
“Vasily, what the fuck?” My voice raises, a tinge of hysteria to my words. He just said he’s getting my daughter back for me? But what is the rest of this about?
He takes my chin in a firm grip and jerks my face up until our gazes meet. “It’s about me doing whatever it takes to keep you alive.”
I sigh and look at his striking eyes. “Vasily, just save Esme. I’m afraid that I’m a lost cause.”
“Oh no, you’re not. You’re about to be saved, Zoey. By me. I’m going to make sure no one can touch you.”
He glances at me and smiles. “You’ll make a radiant bride.”
Oh no.
No, no, no.
I glance wildly around me, seeing where I can run to, but Alexei takes my arm in his, and that knife is back pressed against my side.
“You’ll kill me, but you’re marrying me to stop others from killing me?” I sneer at Vasily. “I don’t think so. He’s bluffing.”
“He won’t kill you,” Vasily says calmly. “Alexei is a maestro with a knife. He’ll do enough harm to cause great pain and put you in the hospital for days on end. Days when I know you’ll want to be finding your daughter. You either do this, marry me, or you get to meet Alexei’s blade. Or… I leave you to Ilya. Would you prefer that? Don’t you want to live, Zoey? You keep saying you don’t, but I don’t buy it. You love your daughter. Surely you want to stick around and find out how she turns out? You like life. No one fucks the way you do if they don’t love the good stuff. Fight, Zoey. Don’t give in.”
His words hit home. I do want to be here for Esme going forward; I just never thought it would be an option. Thought I’d have to die to save her.
“We’ll annul it, right? After we get Esme, and I’m safe, we’ll annul this sham marriage.”
He leans into me and kisses me as if he loves me more than life itself. He kisses me as if I’m precious to him. Then his words blow all that away. “We can’t annul it, Zoey, because I’m going to enjoy fucking my new wife very much. We can, however, divorce, but I’ll be the one to decide that. Not you. From this moment on, from the minute we leave this church, you’re mine. This marriage will be your penance. The ring I am going to put around your finger a re
minder of the sins you’ve carried out. I’m going to own you, Zoey, and you will do what I say, when I say it. You’re mine now.”
Oh, he’s going to get the shock of his life. Firstly, I bet he has no clue about being a father, and once I get Esme back, we come as a pair. Secondly, no one owns me. No one. I’ll murder him in his damn sleep before I let myself become his slave, but I know he’s right about one thing. If I don’t do this, I’m dead. Him marrying me means Andrius, Ilya, Konstantin, all those Bratva fuckers, will have to go to war with Vasily in order to get to me.
In many ways, he’s making a huge sacrifice to keep me safe, and I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t think even he knows what his true motivation is.
“Let’s get this charade over and done with,” I reply. Then deciding I ought to try to talk some sense into him, and being aggressive isn’t the way, I take his hand.
He glances at me in surprise.
“Vasily, you’re not really going to make me stay married to you, are you? You said earlier that you’d never deny me my revenge. You care, I know you do. A little, at least.”
Considering me, his gaze runs over my face for a long moment. “I said I’d never deny you your revenge. I never said anything about your freedom. That I will deny you. It’s a fitting punishment, and it’s also, ironically, what will keep you alive. Your life is mine now, Zoey. Deal with it.”
“I hate you,” I tell him.
“I hate you too, babe,” he replies with a grin. “We’re a match made in heaven.”
“Come on, we don’t have all day.” Alexei pushes me toward the church entrance.
A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I think I might be sick. Oh God, soon I’ll be tied to Vasily legally. I’ll be his, and he’ll be mine. It terrifies me, but it also exhilarates me. I can’t deny the idea of sparring with him and then making up with hot and wild sex isn’t appealing. I also can’t deny that the idea of him on my side, fighting for Esme is reassuring.
Vasily, it appears, is fearless as fuck. He wouldn’t be doing this otherwise. He’s risking the wrath of Ilya, Andrius, and Konstantin, and he’s doing it to keep me safe. Part of me that thinks it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.