The word hangs in the air like a grenade with the pin pulled. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I'm certain everyone at the table can hear it. Heat floods my cheeks, my chest, my entire body, and for one dizzying moment I can't tell if I'm about to faint or scream or burst into flames. I've never said no to my father. Not once in twenty-two years. The taste of it on my tongue is terrifying and exhilarating all at once, like jumping off a cliff and discovering I might actually have wings.
Everyone around me isn’t quite as thrilled. There’s nothing but silence. Absolute, suffocating silence. The fire pops in the hearth. Somewhere, a clock ticks.
Then my father rises slowly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor, his face darkening with a rage I've spent my whole life trying to avoid. The vein at his temple pulses visibly beneath his skin.
"Perhaps you've forgotten what happens to people who defy me, Ilona."
Abel, flying off my balcony. His head cracking against the edge of the pool. Two years of therapy to stop flinching every time someone touched me.
I keep my chin level and my eyes on him. It’s not easy but the tiny baby growing inside me needs me to be strong. "I remember." My voice doesn't waver. "And I'm still saying no."
He signals to Gino with a sharp jerk of his chin, and the guard moves toward me with two others. Heavy hands reach for my arms, ready to restrain, ready to drag me somewherequiet where my father can remind me of my place. I’ve seen it happen a hundred times. I don’t see why I would be treated any differently.
That is why I'm already moving.
My heart leaps into overdrive. I dodge Gino's grasp, slipping past him with a speed born of pure desperation. I snatch my clutch from the sideboard and run for the door, my heels clicking against the marble floor, the sound echoing through the cavernous foyer.
From the look on the asshole guards' faces, if there's ever a sport in the Olympics for running in four-inch heels, I might qualify for the gold.
Behind me, my father's voice thunders through the dining room. "Ilona! Get back here this instant!"
Yeah, no. I don't look back, and I sure as hell don't stop to consider what any of this means for my future. Both options would be detrimental to me and my baby.
The night air hits my face like a slap, cold and sharp and smelling of rain and wet pavement and sweet freedom. I half-run, half-stumble down the long driveway, my heels catching on the cobblestones, the cold seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. I don't stop until I reach the street, until the gates of my father's estate are behind me and the darkness swallows me whole. Only then do I pull out my phone.
My father’s mansion is set at the end of a private road. No one comes all the way back here so thumbing a ride back to the city isn’t an option.
I could call a car service. But my father would only pay them to tell him where I was dropped.
I press a hand over my mouth to help calm my gurgling stomach. It doesn’t help. It takes everything in me not to scream at the heavens and then curse the devils swarming underfoot.
I gulp in air and force myself to calm down. It won’t be long before those asshole guards are in their cars and gunning for me.
I duck off the side of the road and keep out of sight as I walk in the direction of my apartment.
I only have one option. With shaking hands I dial the one number I trust.
"Luna?" My voice breaks on her name, my breath misting in the cold air. "Can you pick me up?"
She doesn't ask questions. She just says, "Send me your location. I'm on my way."
Twenty minutes later, a sleek black SUV pulls up beside me. The door opens, and Luna's arms wrap around me before I can even speak. She smells like paint and flowers and safety, the familiar scent of the pigments she uses for her body art clinging to her dark curls. I hate that my chaotic life interrupted her evening hobby. I cling to her like she's the only solid thing in a world that's crumbling beneath my feet.
"I've got you," she murmurs against my hair. "You're safe now. I've got you."
“Let’s go. The guards have already passed through here several times. It won’t be long before they circle back.”
“Understood.”
Jasper drives while Voss rides shotgun, both men silent and watchful, their broad shoulders blocking out the streetlights that flash past. Shayne sits in the back with us, his silver-streaked hair falling across his forehead, his hand resting reassuringly on Luna's knee as she holds me together. No one asks what happened. No one needs to. They understand the kind of life I was born into because they walk in the same world.
Somehow they didn’t turn into assholes like the man who raised me.
My world turns into a blur of passing streetlights and numbness. I don’t know how long we drive before Jasper pulls into an underground parking lot. They live on the other side of the city so it could have been thirty minutes. It doesn’t matter. I will never be far enough away from my father.
Their home is a sprawling penthouse in a converted warehouse, all exposed brick and floor-to-ceiling windows and artwork that probably costs more than my father's annual clothing budget. Let’s just say he is not a giving man, no matter the billions he sits on.
The space smells of coffee, lavender and something baking in the kitchen. It is warm and welcoming in ways my childhood home never managed. They settle me into a guest room with a massive bed and soft gray sheets, and Luna sends the men away with a look that speaks volumes.
