“You will marry him, or you’ll join your mother. Those are your two options. Take your pick.”
He throws me to the floor and stands over me. The hate in his eyes burns into me. He stopped being my father a long time ago, but I can’t quite put a finger on when dislike turned to loathing.
“Fuck you!” I yell and spit on his shoes.
He lifts his leg and kicks me so hard in the stomach, that I have to curl into a ball to catch my breath. The pain is unbearable, but it’s also familiar. And that makes me hate him even more.
“You will marry him. You will earn his trust. You will reveal to me everything about his shitty operation. And with that information, I will take out the Syndicate.” The glint in his eyes as he tells me his grand plan makes me uneasy.
“Then what?” I spit out.
“Then I kill Dominic Montclair and his filthy family.” Viktor cackles at that.
But for me, I feel hope. If I can stay alive in my marriage to that asshole, then maybe, once Viktor kills him, I’ll be free.
“Then I’m free?” Hope against all odds fuels me.
Viktor throws his head back and laughs again. Then he crouches down until he’s at my eye level.
“Then you marry Sergey.” His grin, the glint in his eyes, his rosy cheeks… this bastard is ecstatic. And I couldn’t hate him more than in this moment.
“Fuck you!” I say one more time. This time it’s weaker. But I won’t stop fighting. Because my bad situation just got so much worse.
Viktor does what I knew he’d do. He starts kicking me again. Cursing me out. Calling me a spoiled brat. He hits me. Spits on me. And at some point, I pass out from the pain.
But it’s better than the alternative.
It’s better than complying. Even if fighting back only gets me pain and leads me to the same place, at least I fought.
Because if I don’t fight this, I’ll have betrayed myself.
Chapter 6
Dominic
I don’t want to do this.
I don’t want to marry that porcelain doll.
So fragile, so inadequate.
She was sickly sweet, wearing that ugly pink dress, with her big, blue eyes gazing at me so innocently.
At first, I could’ve sworn she was looking at me with interest, but it was quickly overtaken by an angelic look.
This life has no place for angels.
She seems like she has no idea what her father does. What I do.
How am I supposed to explain to a wife like her what my life is like? How can she possibly understand the horrors that lie beyond the walls of her hideous mansion?
The fragile doll isn’t built for this. She won’t survive my life. She won’t survive me.
She’ll break under the slightest pressure. And I don’t have time to coddle her.
I have to be the leader. The Syndicate is my only priority. I don’t have it in me to be sweet and patient with the breakable doll. And that seems to be what she needs.
I think I did a good job masking my disgust at the sight of her. It’d be inconvenient for my wife to think I dislike her, but her feelings aren’t high on my list of things to care about.
