“Understood,” he says, turning toward me in his seat. “Why were you at my home this morning, Vanessa?”
Dammit.
Even the way he growls my name threatens to make me shiver. That, combined with his scent, is too much. I can barely think straight, let alone form sentences.
I look away, glancing out the window. “It doesn’t matter.”
I hate the defeated feeling that has taken over since my adrenaline crashed, but it was a stupid idea to begin with. I’m not emotionally stable enough to listen to him make fun of me right now.
I started the day with more tenacity. That determination disappeared somewhere around the time Blade told me he didn’t rape me because Moretti impressed upon him the importance of getting me back with my cherry intact.
I’m so fucking tired of men.
You’d think with all the extra medical knowledge we possess that they would let go of that ridiculous concept. It’s not like it’s the eighteen hundreds when paternity tests didn’t exist. And even if a woman went to her wedding night a virgin, that alone didn’t mean any kids would automatically biologically belong to her husband.
I’m exhausted on a soul-deep level, but my only choice is to try to run before my father can force me to marry Grigoryan.
Moretti sighs. “We’re just waiting for my driver. We’ll get you home as soon as possible.”
If he really wanted to say something comforting, he’d offer to drop me off at the airport after buying me a plane ticket to some random place my family would never find me.
I doubt that would be enough.
They’d track me down and drag me back, kicking and screaming the entire time. I’m still going to try to get away. Iwouldn’t be able to stand myself if I went along without trying to fight back.
Chapter Four
Moretti
I’m used to seeing a very different version of Vanessa. She’s drowning in my coat, dark mascara runs down her cheeks, and her hair is a tangled mess. Any time I’ve seen her, she’s been well put together, and I don’t like seeing her so disheveled.
Not to mention, she’s ignored me since I stopped carrying the conversation.
My driver knows where we’re headed, and he meets my eyes in the rearview mirror.
What exactly is he asking?
It’s not like I can take her to my home.
Why would you even want to?
I wouldn’t.
Vanessa Chapman is more trouble than she’s worth. Not only do I despise her father, I’m fairly sure he’s so desperate to sell Vanessa off to Grigoryan because he wants to solidify their new business arrangement.
I’ve had suspicions about Grigoryan for a while, but I haven’t been able to pin down solid proof.
Five years ago, the man was struggling.
Now?
He’s rolling in cash.
I keep eyes on all the other families just to be safe, and he hasn’t changed the bulk of his business, certainly not enough to justify the steep incline in his net worth.
That leads me to believe he’s dipped his toes into the one pond that all the Boston families agreed was off-limits—human trafficking. We might be criminals and generally shady fucks, but we don’t touch selling humans. That accord has been in place for thirty years, and to my knowledge, no one has broken it…until now.
Over the last two years, there have been nearly five hundred additional missing persons cases. That’s an extra two hundred and fifty people disappearingper year. It’s not a small number. If it’s not one of the syndicate families, it means someone is operating in Boston right under our noses.
