Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
“Valentin tasked me with ending the war. Adriano’s the one that wants Lev to marry into his family.”
“And I wasn’t consulted? For some reason you, a man who is not a member of the Federov family, was part of the deal? While I was cut out, like you should have been.”
Lev speaks up. “I was going to tell you.”
“I don’t want to hear shit from you, boy,” Oleg snaps, waving the gun in his direction. “You must understand something. Our position in the Zeitsev Bratva is tenuous. Since your stupid sister ran off, and then ditched her second chance to throw in with this disappointment of a man, we’re not exactly on the Pakhan’s good side. They’ve slowly been pushing me out, and if we want to make our family strong, we need to do something to regain favor. That means you are going to marry the Italian girl, whether you fucking like it or not.”
Silence dominates the room. Lev stares at his father with unrestrained loathing. I look between them, and a strange mourning fills my chest.
We were a family once. Oleg was never kind, but at least he cared about his sons and treated me like one of his own. I was raised with these people, trained by them, given opportunity and chances. And now everything’s been torn apart because of one night in Paris.
No, that’s not right.
It wasn’t that night.
It was all the nights that led up to it—all the nights I had to struggle with myself not to talk to Natalya, all the nights I left the room when she came around, all the nights I told myself I hated her because otherwise I’d have to admit that I was weak and really wanted her more than anything else in the world.
I wanted perfection, but if I had accepted myself as I am, maybe I could have avoided this a long time ago.
“What if I refuse?” Lev asks flatly.
“Then I’ll kill your fucking sister and that bastard baby of hers,” Oleg snarls.
I lurch forward. I can’t help myself. I lunch at him, and Lev’s the only thing that stops me from strangling Oleg to death or getting murdered in the process. I try to wrench forward, but Lev muscles me back.
“He’s baiting you,” Lev snarls at me. “Get it together.”
I breathe hard, glaring death at the man I once considered a father.
The man I would’ve done anything for.
“If you ever come near Natalya, I’ll end you,” I promise him.
Oleg sneers. “I’m sure you’ll try.”
“It’s okay,” Lev says, pushing me away. “I’ll handle this. You need to get out of here.”
“That’s right, Alexander. Walk away and remember, you are not important, and you never were.”
I flinch toward him and the old man stumbles back like I might break free and kill him with my bare hands.
But Lev shoves me to the door. He gives me a hard look. I linger for a beat, but getting myself shot in the head right now isn’t going to help Natalya, and it sure as hell won’t be good for my baby.
I tear myself away, blind with rage, and hurry home to make sure I can protect my wife while Lev is left alone to confront his piece of shit father.
Chapter 37
Natalya
I’ve had enough. More than enough.
I’m absolutely fucking livid.
“You’re not going in there alone,” Alex says as I storm out of the car and toward my father’s house.
“Then follow if you feel like you have to.” I’m determined though. I march up to the door and throw it open, not giving a damn if I’m not welcome here anymore.
Alex ghosts in my wake, looking annoyed. He tried to talk me out of this, and when he attempted to physically restrain me, I screamed in his face until he let me go.
My father’s gone too fucking far.
It’s bad enough that I’m asking Lev to make a choice.
But I will not let my father force my brother into a marriage when he’s not willing, just like he tried to force me.
I find Oleg Federov in his office. He’s on the phone when I storm in and slam the door behind me, leaving Alex out in the hall. Dad stares in my direction with an amused smile before politely telling whoever’s on the other end of his call that he has to go.
“You crossed the line,” I say, standing on the other side of the desk.
This room never fails to make me feel like a scared little girl again.
When I was young, this is where he took us when he wanted to dole out some punishment. This is where he took us to make us feel tiny and weak.
But I will not cower in front of this man anymore.
Not ever again.
“Tell me how you think I’m the one that crossed a line, daughter.” He leans back, hands crossed over his belly.