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“You still think you can get my holdings, don’t you?” I murmur.

The smirk grows. “The deal was what’s yours will be mine.”

“Never the deal. Ever. And there are contingencies in place, Sergio, to stop you ever getting even one dollar of my money, one piece of my power. Kill me and you walk away with nothing.”

“Demyan, I don’t want to kill you. I just want what’s yours. After that… well, it depends, doesn’t it?”

“On what?”

“On if you please my daughter. And don’t shoot anyone in that room. There’s only my sweet Stefina, ready to earn her way.”

“What the fuck,” I say, “are you talking about?”

He spreads his hands and guns pointing at his cock. “You walked into my trap, Demyan.”

A cold finger of dread runs down my spine. “Trap?”

“Yes, trap.” He tries to shake my man off him, but I shake my head and he sighs. “Fine. Stefina isn’t alone. She’s in there with a celebrant, ready to marry you.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

And how the fuck did he even know I’d turn up tonight? Oh Jesus, is he keeping his daughter under lock and key until he can wheel her out?

But that doesn’t make sense.

He must see something on my face because he starts laughing, not even Pavel’s threating gun to the temple stops him.

He thinks—no, he knows he’s somehow safe—because of something I don’t know about.

It’s not his daughter. And it’s not the goodness of my heart. That contains very little and every ounce is for Erin and my children.

“I asked you a fucking question, Sergio. Why the fuck would I agree to marrying Stefina?”

“I thought you heard.” He laughs and says, “So this is just luck you storming in here, is it? No, you’ll marry her.”

“No, I fucking won’t.”

“You will, Demyan, because right now, in Aruba, there’s a gun to your future slut—sorry—wife’s head. If you don’t go through with this wedding to Stefina, your Erin will die. Better yet, if I don’t call my contact in Aruba every fifteen minutes, Erin will die.”

He checks his watch and waits.

I want to put a bullet in his head, but I’m torn. My phone’s out of juice. I look at Pavel who motions to someone else to take over with the gun as he steps out of the room to hopefully call Ilya, see if he can get hold of my woman. But the problem is, they were going out, so they might not hear the phone.

Or there might be a gun to their heads.

I spoke to her yesterday morning, but… Fuck. Until I get word Ilya’s made contact, I don’t know what the truth is.

I don’t fucking know if she’s safe.

There’s a chance Sergio’s lying.

But what if he’s not?

Am I willing to gamble on Erin’s life? My unborn child’s?

Then Sergio says, “I need to make that call in two minutes. What’s it going to be? Marry Stefina or sign your slut’s death warrant?”

Chapter Twenty-Nine