Whatever tightrope they were walking, they gave me what I needed to blow them out of the water if the need arose, and I’m glad they did.
As far as my dad is concerned, it gives me a good excuse to get my hands dirty.
Chapter Two
London
“What do you mean I’m not allowed to leave the room?”
Katia spares me a quick bored look before glancing away again. “I know you’re not deaf, princess. You heard me.”
I throw my hands up and scowl. “I’m not a princess.”
“You’re certainly getting treated like one, so if you want my advice—”
“I don’t.”
“—enjoy it while you can.” Katia’s bright eyes linger on me for a brief second. “It’s not every day someone like you gets to enjoy these perks.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Katia steps into my field of vision, dressed in head-to-toe black, her dark hair twisted into a tight braid. “It means we both know you’re not going to last, so do yourself a favor and milk it while you can.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m not that kind of woman.”
“I don’t care,” Katia replies. “We’re both stuck doing things we don’t want to do.”
“I want to talk to Mason.”
“He’s not here.”
I step outside the door and raise my voice. “I’ll go and find him then.”
Katia swings back to me and raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t try and leave this floor if I were you.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Katia throws her head back and laughs, and it makes me want to throw something at her. “When I threaten you, you’ll know.”
I take another step, and Katia moves quickly, her eyes flashing in warning. “You can’t stop me.”
“How much you want to bet on that, Princess?”
I narrow my eyes further. “Stop calling me that.”
The corner of Katia’s mouth twitches with amusement. “Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s fucking annoying.”
Katia’s eyebrow climbs. “Mason’s little pet has a potty mouth. Maybe you’re not that spineless after all.”
“Fuck you.”
Katia laughs again, and it makes me clench my hands into fists. “I know you aren’t a fan, but trust me, I’m the best option you have right now.”
I picture Mason’s father towering over us, the unmistakable promise of pain and rage in his eyes, and it makes me pause.
“He’s not going to lay a finger on me.”
