“Your uncle wasn’t making a suggestion.”
“Just because someone tells you to do something doesn’t mean you have to do it.” I hated this. I shrugged off the warmth of his coat and tossed it at him. The cold wind immediately cut through my thin sweater. “My answer is no.”
He took his coat from me. “Take the night to think about things.”
“Leave me alone.”
Without looking at him, I walked back to the house. I bypassed the back door through which we had come and moved to the side door, to give me access to the family quarters without passing the room where the family was dining.
I was cuttingacross the library, my path lit only by three dim lamps strategically set up in the corners. I wasn’t going to stand around and wait until someone forced me into marriage. I had my passport, my money, plus the money Axel had given me from winning the competition. I would make another escape, only this time I would be more strategic.
No one could force me into marriage. That’s not how things worked. I would find my way to freedom and escape the darker side of my uncle’s world.
I was almost at the door leading to the main hall when two strong hands grabbed me by the waist, swung me off my feet, and slammed me back against the wall, nearly knocking all the air out of my lungs.
My eyes widened in horror as I took in Sergei’s big, ugly face.
I hadn’t realized he was even in the room.
“Get off me,” I screeched, before he clamped one thick, meaty hand over my mouth.
I found myself panic breathing through my nostrils as he loomed closer to my face.
“Be quiet,” he sneered, his face only inches from mine.
I put both my hands on his wrist and tried repeatedly to yank his hand away from my mouth, but he was too strong.
He laughed, enjoying my panic and my fear. “You’re ruining my career opportunities with your fake little romance with Axel.”
My eyes widened.
He continued. “Vancouver is mine.”
I put my hands on his chest and pushed against him, bracing my back against the wall, but I couldn’t budge him.
“So you need to go back to your uncle and tell him you’ve changed your mind.”
My fingers wrapped around something hard and cold.
His gun. With wide eyes, I grasped hold of it, pulled it from its sheath and, using both hands, lifted it to his forehead.
The shift in power between us was immediate.
His eyes widened. “Easy.”
His hand moved off my mouth.
“Don’t move,” I told him, as I took the safety off his weapon and put my finger on the trigger.
He didn’t move, but a deep, cold, angry laugh came out of him. “Do it. Pull the trigger.”
My hands shook, but I kept the barrel of the gun pressed to his forehead.
His gaze was filled with a malicious hate. “You can’t do it. You’re not capable.”
My entire body was shaking, but I didn’t break eye contact with him.
His smile reminded me of the reaper. Cold and dead. “You’d better pull that trigger, because if you fail to, I’m going to take the gun from your hands and do worse.”
