Page 17 of Brutal Reign (Bratva Kings #3)

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

HOPE

I collapse against my bedroom door the moment it closes, finally letting the mask I’ve worn all night slip away. Three hours of smiling at Simon’s criminal associates, accepting their congratulations on our upcoming marriage as if it were something to celebrate instead of my personal apocalypse.

I need to get out of this dress, out of these heels, out of my own skin, if possible.

The elaborate diamond necklace Simon insisted I wear feels like a chain around my throat, even though it’s far too light to be real.

My hands fumble at the clasp, and when it finally falls into my palm, I study the necklace under better light.

The “diamonds” are cloudy, lacking brilliance.

It’s fake. A beautiful costume piece, but nowhere near the worth of the real thing.

All of the jewelry he’s given me is fake. Maybe he thinks I’ll pawn it to fund an escape. I couldn’t anyway; I can’t leave the penthouse without a guard.

Money couldn’t be an issue, could it? Simon controls my father’s empire, worth billions in assets and holdings. He might not have access to everything, but even a fraction would be more than enough.

But I’ve noticed other things lately. He used to have a fleet of luxury cars; now there are only three. The private jet was quietly sold months ago. Our household staff has been halved over the past year. Even the wine collection has dwindled.

However he’s using the money, I don’t care. I do my best to stay out of triad business. The less I know about whatever schemes he’s planning, the better. Insulating myself from his world is the only way I can sleep at night.

But lately, even that’s not enough.

My twenty-fifth birthday is tomorrow. The day I was supposed to get my inheritance and vanish forever.

Instead, the money remains tied up in bureaucratic complications.

Uncle Chen is pulling every string he can, but I’m starting to face the terrible possibility that I might have to walk down the aisle.

I lie back, massaging my aching feet, trying to work out the pain from hours in heels, when my bedroom door opens without warning.

Simon steps inside my room, still in his tuxedo from the night’s event. His bow tie hangs loose, his usually perfect hair is mussed, and his eyes hold a slightly unsteady gleam that puts me on alert.

“There she is.” He closes the door behind him, and I notice he’s a bit off-balance. “My beautiful bride-to-be, hiding in her tower.”

“I’m not hiding. I’m tired.” I’m still wearing the dress from tonight, just unzipped in the back. “Tonight went late.”

He moves closer, carrying a glass of whisky in each hand. “Have a drink with me.” He gestures toward the small seating area by my window. “We have something to celebrate.”

“Whatever this is about, can it wait until morning?” I cross my arms, making it clear I don’t want company.

“No. I’ve waited long enough for you, don’t you think?” There’s no missing the suggestion behind his words.

Sensing that whatever this is isn’t worth an argument, I reluctantly take the glass he offers, settling into a chair and putting as much distance between us as I can.

“What are we celebrating?” I ask warily.

Simon’s smile is triumphant. “The Syndicate is about to learn what happens when you fuck with the wrong family. We’re finally going to make them pay.”

Dread spreads through my chest. Retaliating against the Syndicate was always his plan, but what he’s talking about now means going to war, and war means instability, retaliation, and danger. The kind of danger I desperately want to keep Kin away from.

I set my glass down untouched. “I’ve told you before, I don’t want to know about any of this. I want nothing to do with triad business.”

“Too fucking bad.” His voice hardens, the alcohol making him cruder than usual. “You think you get to pick and choose what affects you? You’re marrying into this, Hope, so start acting like your father’s daughter.”

Simon swirls the amber liquid in his glass, savoring the moment. “We’ve taken something valuable from the Russians. Very valuable. And if they want it back, they’ll have no choice but to give me what I want.”

Despite myself, I can’t help but ask, “What did you take?”

“It’s not what, but who.”

My blood goes cold. “Jesus, Simon. You kidnapped someone?”

“I secured leverage,” he corrects, pleased with himself.

It has to be someone important to the Syndicate if he thinks they’ll give him what he wants for their release.

“But our wedding…” I say, grasping for any way to delay until Kin and I are long gone. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to wait until after?—”

He cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “Wait for what? With the leverage I have now, the Syndicate will be forced to hand over everything—territory, money, whatever I demand. By the time we’re married, I will own the Syndicate.”

That seems ambitious, even for Simon. He’s spent years rebuilding the Black Company piece by piece, recruiting my father’s old allies and finding hungry new blood, carving out new territory. He thinks he’s invincible, but no one is.

“Don’t underestimate the Syndicate. My father did, and it got him killed.”

Simon sneers, and he sets down his glass and starts moving toward me. I shoot to my feet, every nerve firing danger signals.

“I never asked for your opinion, did I?” My pulse spikes, and a warning hum thrums beneath my skin as I back up instinctively, trying to maintain distance. “How about you make yourself useful. Shut your mouth, spread your legs and give me the heirs I want.”

My heart races.

“Don’t you want our first time to be on our wedding night? It would be so much more… special,” I plead, grasping for any reason to put this off.

“I don’t give a shit about it being special.” He follows me step for step, effectively herding me toward the mattress. “I’ve waited five fucking years while you played the untouchable princess. While you acted like you were too good for your father’s right hand.”

The backs of my legs hit the bed, and panic flares in my chest as he pushes me down onto it.

“Don’t touch me.” Bile rises in my throat. I try to twist away, but his grip tightens on my wrists.

He forces my legs apart, my dress flaring around my hips, and settles between them. “You live in my house, wear the clothes I bought for you and your brat, eat the food I pay for. Everything you have is because of me. And it’s time I collected on your debt.”

His hand slides up my thigh, and I freeze, paralyzed between fight and flight.

I think of the birth control pills hidden in my vitamin bottle. I’ve been taking them in secret, knowing this day would come, when he’d try to take what he wants from me.

“And now you’re going to stop being such a prude and let me fuck a legitimate child into you.”

He punctuates his crude words with a forward thrust, his erection pressing against me.

Rage flares hot in my chest, burning through the fear. I wrench one arm free and rake my nails across his cheek. “Kin is legitimate. He’s my son!”

“He’s a bastard. What else would you call a child whose father fucked you and dumped you?” He leans closer, his breath hot against my ear as he palms my breast hard over my dress. “But don’t worry. Once you give me sons, we can discuss what to do with your little mistake.”

The threat against Kin unleashes something feral in me. I plant both hands against his chest and shove with every ounce of strength I possess. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He staggers back, touching the scratches on his cheek. “You fucking bitch.”

I sit up and meet his furious stare. “Are you really going to hurt me before our wedding night and risk me showing up bruised? Try to force me. Let’s see how that plays with your precious allies who think you’re some kind of gentleman.”

We lock eyes, and I watch him calculate the risks. He could overpower me; we both know it. But the wedding is too crucial, his carefully crafted image too important to risk visible marks that might raise questions.

“Our wedding night.” He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing everything back into place.

“But after that, the games end. You’ll be my wife in every sense of the word, and I’ll take whatever I want, whenever I want.

You’ll learn what it really means to belong to me.

” He moves toward the door, then turns back with that cold smile that never reaches his eyes. “Sweet dreams, Hope.”

The door slams behind him, and I collapse back onto the bed, my whole body shaking. I can still feel him everywhere, the phantom weight of his touch burning on my skin.

And the worst part is that in a few days, I’ll be his wife, and there will be no refusing him.