“I didn’t do anything.” My voice is more desperate than I want it to be. “I work at a bakery. That’s it.”
He watches me for a long moment before speaking again. “Maybe so. But that’s changed now.”
I can’t take any more of this.
“Please, just leave,” I beg. “I don’t want to see you again.”
“That’s not possible, Miss Graves. Your father owed me more than he could ever pay back. And when he ran out of options, he gave meyou.”
My pulse thunders in my ears, and everything inside me pulls to a dead stop.
Who is this man?
I haven’t spoken to my father in three years. Once in a great while, he’ll reach out to me, but he’s never given a damn. My mother died when I was six, and my father replaced her with nannies and girlfriends. My older brother, Stephen, was always his favorite. My father didn’t bother to hide that.
When I rebelled against my father’s treatment, he shipped me off to my mother’s mom, my grandmother. She’s raised me since I was thirteen.
My relationship with my father has never been good. I knew he was doing things he shouldn’t be. One day, he’d have an expensive car; a few months later, it was getting towed.
Grandma never divulged or put any ideas in my head about what my father was doing. It wasn’t hard to see that he had a drinking problem and a gambling one, too.
Especially after Stephen died two years ago in a car accident.
“I’m not…” I swallow the lump in my throat and glower at him, “someone who can be bought, Mr. Volkov. You have some balls to say that to me in public.”
“Your father thought otherwise.”
I feel sick. “You can’t make me do anything.”
“Sienna, I don’t need your cooperation. I already have you.”
He studies me for another moment, then straightens his jacket like this is just business. “Here’s how this is going to work.”
I stiffen. “It won’t.”
“You will keep working here,” he continues. “You will pay attention to the orders, the names, and the pickups. You will make sure I knoweverythingthat moves in and out of this place.”
I grit my teeth. “And if I don’t?”
The smile that graces his lips doesn’t reach his eyes. “Then I’ll have to make things… difficult.”
I stare at him as blood roars in my ears. “Whoareyou?”
“Your date to my brother’s welcome home dinner. You’ll be well compensated. Your grandmother’s rent will be covered. She’ll be taken care of. You’ll be protected.”
“From what?”
“Felony charges, Miss Graves, for one. Two, from someone noticing that Detective Campbell is camped out in front of your bakery. He’s not very good. I wouldn’t want someone to believe you’re in on what’s been happening here.”
I shake my head slowly. “You’re trying to scare me.”
“I’m just giving you facts, Miss?—”
“Stop threatening me and leave.Now.”
“I never answered your question,” he replies simply.
“I don’t care.”
