Page 5 of Beautiful Trauma (The Irish Rogues #5)
I elbowed him. “I’m sure you tried corrupting her while you were there.”
“Sadly, no.”
My brows popped in surprise. “And why not?”
“They had her locked down tight.”
I laughed. “Guess you’ll just have to wait until your wedding night.”
He winced. “Probably so.”
“I suppose the only good thing about American Bratva is they are not so backward when it comes to their daughters’ virtue.”
Dima once again winced. “Spare me any details of your sex life.”
“You might as well know now in case Father tries to butter up my future husband by proclaiming my virginity.” With a teasing smile, I added, “Or Kira’s.”
Dima’s eyes bulged in horror. “Especially not her!”
“Don’t worry. I gave her a good sex talk as well as getting her an IUD and condoms.”
“Jesus, Mila.”
“Spare me. You know you’d have a completely different reaction if this were Lev or Aleks we were talking about.”
With a scowl, Dima replied, “Whatever.”
As the SUV turned onto a familiar street, my chest clenched.
Since Father craved privacy, he lived in a townhome on Delancey St. during the week.
On weekends, he went to his horse farm in Villanova where he bred Arabians.
Of course, his interests were more in gambling than the actual horses.
After my mother’s death, the horses had been another saving grace outside of my siblings.
When we pulled into the driveway, I tried keeping my emotions in check. The only times I came were for holidays or events. I hadn’t been entirely welcome for years.
As the brick house loomed before me, I fought the rising bile in my throat. All the years of torment at Father’s hands left me with a physical reaction each and every time I was in his presence.
My legs shook slightly when I stepped out of the SUV onto the pavement. Dima reached out to place his hand at my lower back. “Easy, zaika, ” he murmured against the shell of my ear.
Instead of giving him a grateful smile or telling him thanks, I pulled my shoulders back and plastered on a fake bravado. “I’m fine.”
I then eased out of his hold and hurried up the front steps. The butler who answered the door frowned at the sight of me before giving a nod to Dima. “Come in, Mr. Korolova. Your father is waiting for you in his study.”
“Thank you, Andrei.”
Dima then ushered me down the hall into Father’s study. At the sound of the door, he rose from his chair. Once upon a time, Father had been a real looker with his jet black hair and ice blue eyes. But years of hard living, cigars, and vodka had robbed him of his handsome appearance.
Always the consummate actress in his presence, I gave him a shit-eating smile. “Good evening, Father.”
He scowled at me. “I see Dima’s talents of persuasion are better than mine.”
With a tight smile, I replied, “It’s hard to ignore an escort.”
While Dima shot me a warning look, Father spat, "Insolent as always.”
Although it pained me, I replied, “My apologies. What is it you wished to see me about?”
“As you know, Annika is engaged to Darragh Kavanaugh.”
At the mention of my older sister, the skin along my back prickled.
Tortuous memories of my teenage years assaulted me.
After coming to live with my father, all my problems centered around the fact that my stepmother, Faina, loathed me for taking attention away from Annika.
She went out of her way to emotionally and physically punish me, which included using a studded belt against my back.
“No, I wasn’t aware of the happy news.”
Father waved a hand dismissively. “While the contracts have been signed, we haven’t formally announced the engagement.”
“She has my congratulations and best wishes,” I replied.
I was surprised Annika had managed to dodge the shackles of an arranged marriage all these years.
At twenty-six, she was almost past her prime in our world.
I’m sure she’d somehow managed to sweet talk Father into putting it off.
Unlike Kira and me, she had Father wrapped around her finger, so she always got her way.
With a grunt, Father said, “I’m afraid it’s too soon for celebrations.” The flame of his lighter flickered as he lit his cigar. After a few puffs, he related, “My last few phone calls and emails to her fiancé have gone unanswered.”
“Perhaps you should have Dima hunt him down like he did me,” I suggested.
Father’s eyes narrowed into fury-filled slits. “You enjoy being a thorn in my side, don’t you?” When I didn’t respond, he slammed his fist on the desk, causing me to jump. “Don’t you?” he blared.
“It was just a joke,” Dima reasoned.
Father jabbed a finger at Dima. “Stay out of it.”
After tucking his head to his chest, Dima dutifully stepped back, leaving me raw and exposed to Father's wrath.
Since I knew it was best to keep my mouth shut, I waited for him to speak. After an excruciating silence, he said, “I need your services again.”
The mere mention of that word caused my stomach to churn.
When I’d turned eighteen, my father had often used my looks for his own nefarious purposes.
To gain information about enemies or potential traitors, he would have me doll up and seduce them.
While they were under my spell, I would drug them and then clone their phone or computers.
While ridiculously demeaning and degrading, it was also dangerous. In those early years, I’d feared being cut off too much to say no or complain. I needed his dirty money for college.
But not anymore.
I furiously shook my head. “Absolutely not.”
Father’s eyes bulged wide. “You dare to tell your father, your pahkan no?” he demanded.
“When it comes to seducing men for information, I do.”
“We need information about Dare, and you are going to get it for me by getting close to his brother, Kellan,” he snarled.
Although I should’ve shrank away from his rage, I demanded, “How can you continuously ask your own daughter to whore herself?”
Father rolled his eyes. “Save your theatrics. Besides a grope or two, no real harm has ever come to you.”
“But isn’t that enough not to ask it of me?”
“It is what is needed from you.”
“If it’s nothing, why have you never asked your perfect Annika to do it?”
“Mila,” Dima warned.
Father’s eyes narrowed. “How dare you question me and my authority?”
“Because it’s morally and ethically wrong what you ask of me! Especially when you don’t ask Annika.”
A cruel smile curved on Father’s lips. “Perhaps I should send Kira in your stead?”
Agony ricocheted through me at the thought of my nineteen-year-old sister taking my place. Even though I’d been forced at her age, I didn’t want the same thing for her. “No,” I whispered.
“Shall I call her?”
With my fists clenching at my sides, I shrieked, “No!”
“Good. I’m glad to hear your willingness.”
“So am I,” Dima echoed.
I whirled around to stare in horror at Dima. “How can you ask this of me?”
“If it were any other man, I wouldn’t allow you.” Ignoring Father’s sharp intake of breath, Dima continued speaking. “But Kellan Kavanaugh isn’t like the men in our world. He won’t hurt you, nor will he try to fuck you.”
“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it doesn’t.”
“It should.” He gave me a pointed look. “It means I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to ensure your safety.”
“Unless he’s gay or impotent, you can’t promise that he won’t try to fuck me.”
Dima chuckled. “While he’s neither, I can assure you he won’t.”
“How?” I demanded.
“Kellan is an anomaly in the mafia world. He’s a handsome gentleman. He doesn’t like sullying his hands with dirty work, so he’s in charge of the Kavanaugh finances.”
“Are you absolutely sure he’s not gay?”
Dima chuckled. “No, he’s not. In fact, he’s known for putting women on a pedestal.”
Although I hated myself for it, I couldn’t help but be intrigued by Kellan Kavanaugh. It was hard fathoming that any man in the mafia world treated women with such respect. I knew it wasn’t just because he was Irish because I’d been forced to seduce an Irish clansman in the past.
At what must’ve been my continued apprehension, Dima said, “You’ll be wired, and I’ll listen the whole time. If anything starts to go south, I’ll send someone in for you.”
His words were meant to soothe, but they didn’t. Instead, like a trapped animal, my body curved into itself under the prison of his and my father’s request.
After swallowing hard, I replied, “When do I go?"