Page 42 of His Prize


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My brows rise. “Eighteen.”

“She looks younger.”

I shrug.

“Underage girls being sold, Trick does not tolerate. You won her in a fight?”

My eyes narrow. “Who said that?”

“Trick.”

“Who told him that? Callahan?”

Anvil’s stare is bleak. “I didn’t ask, and I don’t care. Trust me on this. Secrets being kept about that girl will be a thing of the past if Trick decides to look into her life.”

Again I shrug, unsure what he expects from me.

“We’ll take her. My wife wants to help her. You can come and see the girl if she agrees to it.”

“You’re not taking her anywhere. Stay out of things that don’t concern you.”

“My people have taken an interest. If she’s a child—”

“She’s not.”

“We’ll soon know.”

My gaze turns bleak and dark. I’ve had more than enough of these men trying to interfere with us. Who the fuck do they think they are?

“Girls can be owned, but only if they agree to it,” Stroviak continues. He holds up his left hand and points to the dark wedding band. There’s a cut of black oxidized metal running through the hammered platinum. I like its look, but not what I think he’s suggesting. “My advice?” he continues in a low voice that sounds too much like my own. “If you won’t give her up, then get one of these. Then she’s yours. No more questions.”

My eyes narrow to a glare. I can’t believe their fucking nerve. I’m the one who shed blood to rescue her. I’m the one standing between her and Egorov. “Natalia isn’t C Crue’s business.”

“C Crue decides what its business is.”

“Good night,” I say with finality. Then I wait for him to turn and go. He doesn’t.

In a stare-down, my brother gives as good as he gets. The dark gaze is unblinking. Only the buzz of his phone in his jacket pocket causes his attention to flicker.

“Good night.”

* * *

Natalia

When Alexei enters the room, his expression is dark. “Is your passport your only identification?”

I tilt my head, confused about why he’s asking. “Yes.”

“What’s your date of birth?”

“What?” My heartbeat increases.

“The date you were born, Natalia.”

“I think maybe July fifteen.”

He stares at me.