I do.
I no longer understand him as a person. I have no clue who this man is. But the violence he’s insinuating sinks deep, the sickening clarity making my stomach turn.
Everything I’ve built—my reputation, my independence, my goddamn identity—is hollow now. Fragile. Fake. All because of greed, exploitation, and a drop of blood.
I blink hard, trying to find a foothold in logic, in anger, in anything I can control. But it’s all slipping. Dragging me under. Drowning me.
My chest tightens. My breaths shorten.
I will my mind to focus, to strategize. Yet, it’s too busy calculating worst-case scenarios.
My legs give out.
I barely register the fall until I feel the thick fibers of the rug beneath me, the desk hard at my back.
There has to be a way out of this.I’ll find a way.
I snatch the folder off the floor and hug it to my chest. “What’s to stop me from destroying the documents?”
Raffael doesn’t even flinch. “The paper doesn’t hold the debt. Something forged in blood can’t be destroyed. Paperwork or not, the agreement stands. Until death.”
I raise my chin, calculating whether I have the guts to commit murder for my freedom.
His eyes narrow, as if hearing my thoughts. “Yourdeath, Isla. Not mine. As flattering as it is to imagine you ditching that high moral ground in an attempt to kill me, you’d also have to get rid of everyone else involved.”
More people know about this?
Maybe it’s common knowledge.
Maybe I’ve been the industry’s inside joke all along.
“Who’s everyone else?” My voice trembles.
“Although I’m confident you’re not about to attempt mass murder, one can never be too sure. So I think it’s best to keep that information to myself for now.”
Asshole.“I want to speak to my father. Bring him back in here.”
“Your father left.” Raffael levels the blow with efficiency. “He was supposed to deliver the news before departing, but evidently, he took the easy way out.”
No.He wouldn’t leave me.
No, no, no.
I clench the folder tighter, my knuckles aching.
“I’ll give you some time to prepare your statement. Have Elena come get me when it’s done.” He heads for the hall.
Panic and fury surge. “I haven’t changed my mind. I won’t do it.”
He slides his hands into his pockets and continues to the door. “That’s an unfortunate decision given the consequences.”
“You mean being yourpossession.” I force a laugh. “Because I’m assuming you have no plans to make me yourwife, considering how much you clearly despise me.”
He opens the door and pauses inside the frame. “Don’t be so sure.” His gaze travels over me—my hands clutching the folder, my hips, my bent legs. Then his eyes meet mine. “You look awfully good on your knees.”
Then he’s gone, his stride unhurried, his padded footsteps vanishing down the hall.
A scream claws its way up my throat and breaks free. I drop the file and grab the closest object from his desk—a heavy paperweight—and hurl it at the wall. It hits with a violentthunk, denting the paneling.
