Page 12 of Climbing Everest

Everest

M y head is throbbing. Why the hell did I drink so much wine last night?

Oh. Right. Because I was being forced to sign not just my own death certificate but three others, as well. Also known as planning a wedding that will turn into a fucking blood bath.

At this point, why fight it? The only reason I’d disappeared was to protect Brixton, Kato, and Maddox, and now they hate me and obviously blame me for Christos’ death. And…a lot of things they haven’t bothered disclosing.

I’ve tried a couple times to explain to them that my presence here is dangerous to their lives, and they treat me as though I’ll personally cause the downfall of humankind.

Alexa and I hadn’t gotten very far in the planning last night, but Kato already set the date and I sure as hell have no desire to do a reenactment of My Big Fat Greek Wedding complete with the big, cupcake looking dress.

So, I’ll play my part, help with the plans, but at no point will I give up trying to find a way to escape this house.

Kato said he would be sleeping in my bed last night, and I assumed that also meant he would be fucking me.

Except, after I’d dressed for bed and climbed under the blankets, I stared at the closed door for so long that my eyes grew heavy and I fell asleep.

Then woke alone.

I’m still dressed, and there aren’t the telltale signs of having sex, so…was he simply trying to build some kind of anticipation? Make me nervous?

Not like I haven’t had sex hundreds – thousands – of times in my life. Not like I haven’t fucked all three of these men hundreds of times when we were together.

I’m right back to wondering whether I’ll be the sacrificial lamb, whether Kato will put me through the public spectacle of the engagement and wedding only to have me killed in front of hundreds of witnesses.

Maybe it’s simply some form of punishment, though I’m no longer sure whether they’re out to punish me for running away or out to punish my father. Maybe it’ll simply be a ploy to start a battle with the local Families. They can easily point the finger at any number of groups as the guilty party.

And people will simply nod in understanding, agree they have every right to avenge the death of Kato’s wife.

The bedroom door opens and Brix steps through.

I look in his direction and note yet another new guard is positioned outside my door.

Eventually, I want to test this whole shadow thing, leave my room and wander the house and the estate, see if whoever is assigned to watch over me really will follow me around.

You know, test the boundaries and see whether I can find a loophole, some tiny opening to slip through before we all end up dead.

Brix stares at me so long, I begin to wonder whether he’ll actually speak.

Even through the darkness in his eyes, past the ink covering what parts of his body I can see, and the long, thick hair he’s left loose, I can still see the man I fell in love with before I was old enough to consider such things.

These three men had been my whole life. They were my family. We were going to build a life together.

And within hours of telling them we would be parents, everything had changed.

“What the fuck is this?” my father asks, his voice low, deadly, as he holds the pregnancy test inches from my nose.

I recoil a little since it smells like pee.

“You know what it is,” I say, keeping my chin raised and struggling to keep the tremble out of my voice.

“Who?” he asks, tossing the white stick to the ground.

I clench my teeth and cross my arms over my chest, refusing to turn my eyes from his face.

I hate that there are other people here, his men standing around watching like this is some fascinating show.

Or maybe they’re here on his behalf, his execution squad. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had one or all of them take me out back and put a bullet in my head. I’m nothing, after all. I can give him a grandchild, but he would never be happy unless he chose the father of my offspring himself.

It had been made clear to me since the day I was old enough to understand that my marriage would be arranged, that he would choose the man I would marry.

But I already have three husbands, even if they’re only husbands of my heart. I am fully committed to them and them only, and I would rather die than give my heart, my life, my body to another.

“Who the fuck knocked you up?” he growls, moving closer to wrap his hand in my hair and force my head back to look up at him as he crowds my space.

If I had worn something other than the sweater, he would have seen the bandages covering my chest. He would have discovered the initials, and no way would he have not put the pieces together.

I won’t tell him who. I would rather take any punishment he can dole out than risk Kato, Brix, or Maddox and I know they would do the same for me.

A vicious, sadistic smile curves up my father’s lips as he looks over my shoulder a moment before returning his attention to me.

“You know what? You can’t be that far along. Maybe I’ll just hand you over to my men. Let them take turns. I should probably call the doctor first, make sure whatever bastard is growing in your belly is dead first.”

“Please,” I whimper as tears well in my eyes. I blink, trying to clear them and my vision, but they spill over my lashes and trail down my cheeks.

He can’t do this. He can’t take my baby. I’m not even that afraid of his men raping me. I know my husbands will love me no matter what, I know they won’t blame me for being assaulted.

But if I don’t fight to save our child…

“Daddy, please,” I say, trying to appeal to his parental love.

I don’t think I’ve called him daddy since I was four. But fuck…I’ll try anything if I can save my child.

The smile falls from his face. “Give me a fucking name and I’ll consider letting you keep the bastard.”

“You’ll kill…him,” I say, barely keeping myself from saying them. He might not immediately catch on, but eventually the puzzle pieces will click into place. All the events where the four of us – sometimes five if Flora’s family attended – would disappear might clue him in.

“Yes. I will. Some piece of shit defiled my only daughter. Do you realize how little you’ll be worth as a whore? Do you realize how hard it will be to find a proper match now?”

Money. Power. It always comes down to those two things with him.

I open my mouth, unsure of what I plan to say, but he releases my hair so abruptly I stumble.

“Three seconds, Everest. If I don’t have a name in three seconds, I’ll let them play,” he says, nodding at Mikhail, Eriks, and Denis standing at my back.

I have no doubt the level of pain and humiliation those three will put me through.

Surely, though, my father won’t let them actually sexually assault me. I won’t be the least bit surprised if he stands by while they rough me up, leave some bruises on my skin, do their best to scare the name – or names – of the father of my unborn child from my lips.

But I refuse to believe the man who is supposed to love and protect me would allow his employees to…

“Three.”

“Father,” I say, trying to reason with him as I take a step toward the door.

“Two.”

“I can’t tell you the name. I’m…we’re going to get married, and then I won’t be your burden any longer.” I know it’s a long shot, but I hope making it sound as though I’ve done him a favor will make him see things in a different light.

“One.”

It doesn’t work.

I’m yanked away from the door by the back of my sweater, the subtle sounds of the fabric tearing barely covered by my squeak of surprise.

Fists. Open palms. Even boots when I’m on the ground. Over and over, I’m beaten as pain erupts across my nerve endings. It feels as though there isn’t a single inch of my body that hasn’t been abused.

My shirt has been ripped; clumps of hair feel as though they’ve been torn from my head. And then my father speaks, and time feels as though it stands still.

“What the fuck is that?” he asks.

I’m yanked to my feet by a fist wrapped in my hair. I reach up and clamp my hands around someone’s wrist, trying to ease the pressure on my scalp as my father reaches forward and tears the bandage away from my chest, revealing those raw, still seeping initials –

B

K

M

“Time to get up,” Brix announces, snapping me out of my memories.

He saunters to the closet and spends a few moments in there before emerging with a skirt and sweater. And no, the sweater won’t keep me warm. It’s one of those cropped styles, and the neckline is designed so it’ll hang off one shoulder.

Setting them on the dresser, he drags his eyes over my face as I sit up in the bed.

The movement makes my head throb to my heartbeat, but I don’t show him an ounce of discomfort.

Not like he’ll rush from the room to find me painkillers.

The way he’s glaring at me…he’ll probably blast some Norwegian death metal to increase the pain.

Even though I’m wearing pajamas, I feel naked under his gaze and tug the blanket up higher.

“Get ready. You have somewhere to be in an hour,” he says, his eyes catching on where I’m hugging the duvet to my chest before raising to my face.

“Where?”

“Does it fucking matter?” he growls out.

“You used to be so sweet,” I say through clenched teeth.

“And you weren’t a fucking whore. Get up. Get showered. Get dressed. There’s some leftover food from breakfast in the fridge.”

He continues to stare at me. But if I have to be somewhere in an hour, no way am I going into public looking as hungover as I feel. The outfit will already be uncomfortable enough, unless he plans to let me wear tights underneath.

And being as he seems to hate me these days, I highly doubt he’ll grant me even that small favor.

Tired of the standoff, I throw the blankets off and push to my feet, shoving past him to head to the shower when he refuses to move.