“Careful?” I laugh, and it sounds slightly unhinged even to my own ears. “Why? What are you going to do? Lock me in my room? Cut off my phone? Make the staff treat me like garbage?” I mockingly gasp, covering my mouth. “Oh wait—you’ve already done all of that.”
His scowl deepens. “You’re here because your family?—”
I wave him off dismissively. “Killed your brother. Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ve mentioned it. Repeatedly. Every single day. Every single meal. Don’t you ever get sick of repeating the same thing?” My hands are shaking now, but I don’t care. I’m so tired. I’m so fucking exhausted from being afraid, from being guilty, from being punished for something I didn’t do. “But you know what? The Volkov family isn’t exactly innocent either.”
The temperature in the room drops about fifty degrees. “Excuse me?”
Ah, that affected him. “You heard me.” The words are coming now, tumbling out before I can stop them and the fear can lock them back inside. “Your family has killed people too. Your organization has destroyed lives. Don’t pretend you’re some kind of saint being persecuted by evil Ashfords. You’re just as dirty as we are.”
He stands so abruptly his chair screeches against the wood floor, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growls.
“Don’t I?” I stand too, meeting his glare even though my legs are shaking. “Your father ran this organization before you. Your uncle still does half the work. You think I don’t know what that means? You think I grew up in this world without understanding exactly what families like ours do?”
“Families like yours started this war?—”
“And families likeyoursperpetuate it!” I’m yelling now, all the fear and anger and grief I’ve been holding back for weeks finally exploding. “You could have walked away. You could have chosen peace or decided that revenge wasn’t worth more bloodshed. But instead, you marriedmeto punish my father. You locked me in this house to make a point. You make me miserable every single day because it makes you feel powerful!”
“I make you miserable,” he says slowly, “because your family took everything from me.”
“So you decided to take everything from me in return?” Tears are streaming down my face now, hot and angry. “Congratulations, Dimitri. Great job. You’ve successfully destroyed the life of someone who never did anything to you.” I place my hands on my hips. “Does that make you feel better? Does it bring Alexei back?”
The moment his brother’s name leaves my lips, I know I’ve gone too far.
Dimitri moves around the table so fast I barely have time to react. He’s in my space, towering over me, and for a terrifying second, I think he might actually hurt me. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw so tight I can see the muscle jumping.
“Don’t,” he growls, his voice barely above a whisper but somehow more frightening than if he’d shouted. “Don’t you dare say his name. You don’t get to talk about him. You don’t get to pretend you care about what I lost when your family is the reason he’s dead.”
“I do care,” I whisper back, and it’s the truth. “I cared about?—”
“Get out.”
I jerk as if slapped. “What?”
“Get. Out.” Each word is bitten off, sharp as broken glass. “Go to your room. I don’t want tolookat you right now.”
I don’t need to be told twice. I turn and practically run from the dining room, my vision blurred with tears, my whole body buzzing with adrenaline and fear and rage.
But as I reach the stairs, I hear something crash in the dining room. It’s the sound of glass shattering. A roar of pure fury that makes my blood run cold.
I’ve finally cracked his control.
And I’m not sure whether to feel triumphant or scared.
The fourth night is worse.
I almost don’t go down to dinner. I seriously consider just staying in my room, claiming illness, anything to avoid facing him again. But around six-thirty, Mrs. Kozlov appears at my door.
“Mr. Volkov expects you at dinner,” she says flatly. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”
So here I am again, sitting at this fucking table, trying not to throw up the water I’ve been sipping all day. The nausea has been relentless today. It’s not just in the morning anymore, but waves of it throughout the afternoon, and it’s unpredictable and vicious.
This baby is trying to kill me.
I’m wearing a dark blue loose dress trying to hide how pale I am with carefully applied makeup. But I can see myself in the reflection of the wine glasses and I look awful. Hollowed out.
Dimitri enters exactly at seven, and I can immediately tell tonight is going to be different. There’s something coiled about him, tense in a way I haven’t seen before. His jaw is set, his movements too controlled, like he’s holding back.
He sits and doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me with those cold gray eyes.
