Page 13

I arrive at my father’s estate with the two bodyguards Grigor insisted I bring. Their presence weighs on me like an invisible chain, reminding me of the new reality I can’t escape. The drive here felt endless, and I spent the entire time going through every possibility of how this meeting might go.

What if my father sees that I’m growing closer to Grigor? What if he demands more information than I’m willing—or able—to give? My stomach twists at the thought of what he might do if he isn’t satisfied.

The guards park the car and follow me as I step onto the familiar stone walkway. I fight a jolt of memories and I recall how many times I walked this path as a child, longing for something warmer and kinder from the man who lives here. For a time, I had that consolation in my mother. She always had a way of chasing away the harshness of my father’s world. But when she passed away, far too soon, that comfort went with her, leaving only the cold presence of the man who raised me. The ache of that loss still stirs when I come here, though I’ve long since buried it under layers of steel.

My main bodyguard, Anton, trails two steps behind me, scanning the grounds. The other one, Val, stays near the car. My father’s men watch from a distance, but they track my every move. The tension around this place feels suffocating. I square my shoulders and press the doorbell, ignoring the quiver in my gut. I must look confident, or my father will smell weakness.

A house attendant opens the door, offering a stiff nod. “Miss Seraphina,” he greets me, gesturing for me to come inside. “They’re expecting you. Shall I escort your companions to the sitting room?”

“They’ll wait outside,” I declare. The attendant looks uncertain, then steps aside to allow Anton and Val to remain in the entry hall. My father won’t be pleased, but he knows better than to provoke Grigor’s men outright. I glance at Anton, giving him a small nod so he knows I haven’t changed my mind about the arrangement. With that, I step past the threshold and head into the vast foyer.

This used to be my home, a place that should’ve felt safe. Instead, I recall countless times standing in this very spot, bracing myself for my father’s wrath. The portraits of my ancestors glare down from the walls, as if they too disapprove of my every choice.

Cecily appears at the far end of the foyer, and her face lights up when she spots me. She hurries over, arms open, and wraps me in a fierce hug. I close my eyes and let her familiar warmth seep into my bones for a moment.

“You came! I was counting the days.”

I manage a slight laugh, although nerves still gnaw at me. “Wouldn’t miss a chance to see you. How’ve you been?”

She loops her arm around mine and steers me toward the drawing room. “I’m alright, though it’s been dull without you. Father’s in one of his moods. You know how he gets.”

I nod, heart racing. “I figured.”

She stops just short of the drawing room doors, turning to give me an appraising look. “You look different, though I can’t put my finger on it. Happier, maybe?”

My cheeks warm, and I glance away. “Don’t be silly. I’m just… adjusting to the new life.”

Cecily’s eyes sparkle. “New life, meaning marriage to the big, scary man you swore you’d never tolerate? That new life?”

“Don’t start,” I warn, though her teasing tone tugs a reluctant smile from me. “He’s not that big or scary.” I pause. “Well, maybe a little. But he’s not a monster.”

She gasps softly, pressing a hand to her heart in mock shock. “You’re defending him. That’s new. Are you—”

I cut her off with a scowl. “I’m not defending him. I’m just stating facts.” My voice falters, and I can practically feel the heat in my face. “He can be decent… sometimes. That doesn’t mean I like the man or anything.”

She giggles and leans closer as though sharing a secret. “Maybe you don’t like him, but you sure don’t hate him either.”

I roll my eyes, but my blush deepens. “Cecily, drop it. This is the last thing I need to discuss right now.”

She nods, though her smirk remains. “Fine, I’ll let it go. For now. But I’m glad you’re not miserable.”

I exhale as I thread my fingers together. “Thanks.” My gaze drifts to the closed doors ahead. “Is he in there?”

Cecily’s features tense. “He’s waiting for you, yes. Be careful, okay?” She reaches up and brushes a stray curl from my forehead. “If he gets too nasty, call for me. I’ll barge in and rescue you.”

I give her a faint smile. “I can handle him,” I insist, though my heart pounds. “Go on, do something fun while I get this over with.”

She sighs, then steps back and motions for me to enter. I draw in a slow breath, pushing the door open. My father’s office is just as I remember—heavy drapes, thick carpeting, and a saturating sense of oppressive tension. He sits behind his massive desk, flipping through papers. He doesn’t look up.

“You’re late.” His tone is clipped, devoid of warmth. Not that I expected any.

I move toward the desk. “I got held up. If you have a problem with my timing, take it up with the traffic.”

He lifts a brow at my insolence. “Bold, aren’t we? Marriage giving you false confidence?” He stands and circles the desk. “Or maybe Grigor’s letting you play princess in his grand estate?”

I bite down on my tongue. I won’t let him see how his jabs affect me. “I’m here because you asked for information. Though there’s not much to share.”

His eyes narrow, and I notice the faint lines around his mouth, deeper than before. “You’ve been living under his roof for weeks. Surely, you’ve seen or heard something that can help me. Don’t play dumb.”

“He doesn’t share details of his dealings. He keeps things compartmentalized. I can’t just pry open his secrets.”

He snorts. “If you can’t manage to charm a man who clearly wants you in his bed, then what use are you?” He steps closer, dropping his voice to a menacing hush. “Or have you decided you enjoy his touch too much to risk betraying him?”

The question stings more than it should. I swallow as I’m forced to face the possibility that my father can see how my feelings have shifted, even if only slightly. But I’m not about to admit as much. “I told you, I have nothing. That’s not because I’m picking sides.”

He chuckles, a mocking sound that makes my spine stiffen. “Picking sides. As if you have that luxury. You’re mine, Seraphina. You’ll do as I say unless you want Cecily subjected to a similar arrangement. Maybe I’ll marry her off to someone even more ruthless than Grigor.”

Rage flashes through me, and I clench my fists. “Don’t you dare drag Cecily into this. She’s innocent.”

He shrugs. “She’s also valuable. If you don’t get me what I need, I’ll have no reason to keep her shielded. And you’ll be to blame.”

“You’re a monster.”

He smiles thinly. “I do what’s necessary.”

For a moment, words fail me. All I can think about is Cecily’s trusting face. The last thing I want is for her to become a pawn in this twisted game. I force myself to breathe, to keep my voice steady. “I’m doing my best, but Grigor is cautious. It’s going to take time.”

His expression darkens, and he closes the distance between us in three measured steps. “You don’t have time,” he growls, jabbing a finger at my chest. “You think I don’t hear rumors? Word is Grigor’s sniffing around for who killed that ally of his, the one whose murder triggered this entire fiasco. If he sniffs out that you’re my little spy, guess who’ll pay the price.”

A cold shiver courses through me. “I’ll handle it.”

He scoffs before glancing at his watch. “Handle it faster.”

“I can’t force him to trust me overnight,” I argue. “If you want something substantial, let me work without these impossible deadlines.”

His mouth twists. “Impossible, you say? Then maybe I should remind you of what’s truly impossible—protecting your precious sister once I make it clear she’s for sale.”

My heart plummets. “Don’t. Please.”

He smirks. “Then give me something. Or is Grigor more important than Cecily now? Are you that taken with him that you’d jeopardize your own flesh and blood?”

“That’s not it!” I explode. “I’d die for Cecily. But I can’t deliver secrets I don’t have. And he doesn’t sit around monologuing about Bratva plans. He isn’t as arrogant as you—”

Before I finish, he lifts a hand and strikes me across the cheek, and the crack of flesh on flesh reverberates in my head. I reel backward with one hand flying to my stinging face. My eyes burn, but I refuse to cry. I refuse to let him see that weakness.

“Don’t raise your voice at me,” he warns, rage dripping from each word. “You’re nothing but a means to an end, a bargaining chip I played to get close to the Barkovs. If you think that husband of yours loves you, you’re a fool.”

My throat tightens as I recall every moment of softness Grigor has shown me—few as they are—and wonder if it’s all in my head. “I never said he loves me,” I whisper, hating how small my voice sounds.

My father leans in, and his hot breath throbs on my cheek. “He’ll turn on you the instant he learns you’re feeding me intel. Men like him don’t forgive betrayal. They wipe it out.”

Fear rises like bile, and I can’t help picturing Grigor’s face the other night when he held a gun to my head. Would he shoot me if he found out? My father sees the flicker of dread in my eyes and bares his teeth in a nasty smile.

“Let me paint a picture for you: the day he discovers you’re my dirty, little spy, he’ll wrap those big hands around your throat and squeeze until there’s no life left in you. Or maybe he’ll put a bullet between your eyes. Doesn’t matter which. He’ll never forgive you.”

I force myself to stand straighter. “You’re delusional if you think I care that much.”

“Am I?” he counters. “You’re trembling at the thought of him finding out. That’s enough proof. Now get out of my sight. Bring me something real next time, or I’ll make sure Cecily pays in your place.”

My stomach feels hollow. I want to lash out, scream at him, but the memory of his hand striking my face holds me back. The possibility that he might hurt Cecily, or that he might blow my cover, forces me to nod. I turn on my heel and walk away, refusing to glance back. My father’s men step aside as I pass through the door wearing pitying looks when they get a look at my face, which I’m sure is crimson. I ignore them all and hurry down the corridor.

Cecily emerges from somewhere down the hall, eyes wide as she takes in my expression. “Sera? What happened?”

I lift a trembling hand and press it to my cheek. “Nothing.” The lie is obvious. My cheeks burn with humiliation. “He’s in a foul mood, that’s all.”

Her gaze flicks behind me, then she reaches for my arm. “Let me see—did he—”

“I’m fine,” I insist. My voice shakes, but I shrug her off. “Cecily, please, I just… I need to go. I can’t stay here.”

She glances toward the drawing room with tears gathering in her eyes. “Why won’t he just leave us alone?”

Because he’s a cruel man with endless schemes , I think, but I don’t say it. Instead, I shake my head and step past her. “Take care of yourself. I’ll see you soon.”

Cecily nods, but her bottom lip trembles. “I’ll walk you out.”

We reach the foyer, where Anton and Val wait. Their shoulders tense when they see my swollen cheek, but they say nothing, just step to flank me. My father’s men watch warily as if expecting a brawl. I keep my eyes down as shame crawls under my skin. This is the man I was raised by, the one who forced me to marry for his own benefit. And here I am, battered inside and out, still trying to appease him in hopes of protecting Cecily.