Page 13 of The Brutal Arrangement (The Ivanov Syndicate #2)

DAMON

T hose three men who set fire to the warehouse wouldn’t own up to anything. Even when I did my worst, cutting off their fingers and breaking their bones, they wouldn’t tell me shit.

Sometimes, men saw all the power and wealth we represented and they’d get cocky enough to try to take it for themselves. That was simply how greed worked.

But these guys hinted at something more.

I spent all day and into the evening trying to ferret out the truth from them.

In the end, they wouldn’t fucking cave. They wouldn’t give me a solid answer as to whether or not another crime family had set them up to this crime.

No matter what I threatened or how much I hurt them, they hedged and refused to confess whether one of our enemies had paid them or manipulated them to attack us from within our organization.

“I think someone was behind this,” I told Maxim when he visited the basement to inform me that my bride had arrived.

“I agree.” He scowled at the remains of the now chopped-up bodies that I’d let the other men down here clean up and burn. “I watched parts of the recording.”

I accepted the rag from him and started wiping the blood from my face. “It’s got to be the same motherfuckers who took Nik and poisoned Father.”

Maxim shook his head. “No. I’ll never make the mistake of assuming all our troubles are coming from one source.”

I shrugged. “All I noticed was that two of them referenced Dominic Romano. No mention of Anton.”

“I noticed that as well,” he replied. “No mention of any Kozlov.”

“But maybe that was intentional, to throw us off.” At his suggestion, I followed him away from the torture chamber. Usually, after a good long session of torturing a rat, I felt calmer, more at ease for expending some of this innate darkness and need to kill that spawned within me.

Because those three men didn’t tell me anything useful, I felt unhinged and still on the warpath to inflict pain until a reward was in sight.

If not knowledge, then the reminder that I was more powerful.

This sick and twisted need to harm wasn’t right, but I’d never bothered to dissect what made me the monster I was.

“Maybe. And that’s why I wanted to speak with you before you go up there and deal with this wedding bullshit.”

I raised my brows, trying halfheartedly to erase some of this sticky blood off me. “What about it?”

He furrowed his brow, looking more pensive and calculating than he was when he’d come down here. We stood together in the elevator, and he studied me. “You missed some.” He pointed at his own face to indicate where a streak of red had to be clinging to my cheek.

“What about it?” I prompted again. I was annoyed that I’d have to marry at all. Right after an unsatisfying time of torturing those men for no real answers, I was irritated to even have to speak to a woman.

We got into the elevator as it arrived, and Maxim hit the button for the main floor.

“I’ve been rethinking what we discussed this morning, when Grandmother was talking about heirs. When I said this was nothing more than a contract marriage.”

I shrugged. “What about it? I’ve already asked the staff to clear out the guest room in my apartment where she can stay locked up.”

He nodded, frowning. “But have you given any thought to how you’d try to get information out of her?”

I stared him down, not liking what he could be suggesting. “I didn’t plan to bring her down here,” I said dryly as the elevator lifted us from the lowest level where I reigned as “Demon” instead of Damon.

“No.” He shook his head. “That would be excessive.”

“Fuck, I don’t know. I was going to sign the fucking papers tonight and show her that guest room where she could stay for a while. I’d keep her isolated until she’d be bored and then I’d demand some answers from her.”

This was Katerina we were talking about. Not some stranger. While I didn’t know her that well, I knew of her. Many, many years ago, when her father was alive, she almost could have counted as a friend of the family.

“Are you suggesting I take a harder stance to get answers out of her?”

“I’m not sure.” He huffed a weak laugh as the elevator stopped. I followed him out, not thinking twice when he approached the bar and poured us drinks.

I went for a double, tossing the shot back while he seemed to search for words.

“Maybe you should be hard with her.” He arched one brow, but he didn’t have to wait for me to understand.

“You want me to fuck some answers out of her?” Just saying it bothered me. I’d tortured many—men and women—and there were no extremes I wouldn’t consider. I’d fucked women for intel before. But Katerina?

He didn’t flinch, looking me dead in the eye. “Do whatever is necessary.”

Goddammit.

“You hear me?” he asked. “With Sloane in my life now, and a baby on the way, I want to be one step ahead of our enemies, not playing catch-up to know what the fuck is going on. If Katerina is here and she could be used for intel on Anton, then we use it.”

And it was up to me to use her .

“I hear you,” I replied. I didn’t bother with a glass this time. I picked up the vodka and drank from the bottle. It barely took the edge off, and even though I’d drunk throughout the day to help while away the time torturing those three men, I wasn’t fully wasted.

“Where is she?”

“In the foyer. She just got here.”

“Fine. The papers are set up, then?” I strode out of the room.

He matched my stride. “Yes. In the study.”

“Fine. I’ll see you there.” I headed toward the foyer, gritting my teeth at having to deal with her. From the little I knew and recalled of the brunette, she was bound to be opinionated. Sassy, even.

I wasn’t in the mood to put up with her protests. I was too far into this need to harm and kill to be patient.

But this is Katerina.

Knowing her at all was a hindrance. Being able to recall her from my childhood tinged it all.

Stop it. She’s just a fucking woman. She might be a spy. An enemy. She could be here to hurt us.

It didn’t matter who she was, what her name was, or what she looked like—now or then.

She’s just a pussy to fuck.

Whatever it took to view her as a thing instead of an individual.

Do your duty and get it over with.

Coming into the foyer, I raised my brows at the slender woman in a wedding gown.

What the fuck?

It wasn’t an impressive dress, more like a simple sheath, but it was white, like the symbolism of matrimony could matter. It had lace, like she was supposed to be viewed as a delicate bride.

And the veil?

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I growled under my breath.

Taking a rag out of my pocket, I continued to wipe the blood off my hands, taking in the stiffly still image of this woman. Not seeing her face helped. It aided my effort to see her as a thing, a pussy, a human to interrogate and not actually commit to.

“ This is my bride?” I asked, almost in disbelief.

It seemed I was wrong. I had assumed Katerina would be sassy and stubborn, protesting this arrangement. The fact that she wasn’t—and was standing here meekly as if she were afraid—hinted that she was more likely going through with this for Anton. That she was here to fuck with us.

“Yes, Damon,” the guard at the door said with a nod.

Well, it’s your lucky day, then. It’s time for you to be fucked and know your place.

Beneath me and telling me everything she could.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with, Bride .”

I reached out to indicate for her to walk ahead of me into the study, but she cowered back as if I’d struck her.

What the hell?

Katerina had grown up in this world of violence and crime. She should’ve been trained better than to cower and show fear.

Whatever.

Before she could tense again and flinch out of my reach, I grabbed her wrist and dragged her with me.

Maxim gave me his orders.

He said I shouldn’t be soft on her.

I was expected to get answers, even with this weird arrangement.

“Move it,” I ordered, towing her after me until we reached the study.

Not once did she move to lift her veil off her face. Trying not to fall on her feet was likely why she floundered and flailed her free arm to the side, but I didn’t slow down.

My patience was shot.

Somehow, I’d need to get hard enough to fuck her.

She had to be roughed up so she’d know how it would be.

In the study, Maxim and an officiant were waiting at the desk.

I didn’t pay my brother any attention, not giving a shit whether he was curious about how meek and skittish Katerina was acting.

Once I shoved her toward the furniture, I took a pen and slapped it in her hand.

It fell from her trembling fingers, and I scowled.

She really was afraid.

And fuck if that didn’t turn me on.

Fear was my kryptonite.

Seeing how terrified someone could be with my presence gave me a heady sense of triumph that only proved how much of a sick sadist I was.

Because any time I felt like this, every time I was reminded that I was strong and in charge, it helped to chase away the sickening sensation of trepidation that I felt when Maxim, Nik, and I were almost executed.

I grabbed the pen off the desk again, slammed it onto her palm, then closed her fingers around it.

“Sign it,” I ordered.

She lowered her hand, seeming ready to obey.

While she set her pen to the paper, I took the other pen and scrawled my name. The officiant blathered on with the barest of vows and crap, and I nodded along, impatient to get the fuck out of here.

Seeing my bride trembling in fear got to me, and I wouldn’t relax at all until I could vent on her in bed.

“I do.” Turning to face her, curious what her scared expression had to look like with that pathetic veil over her, I waited for her to agree to her lines.

“I do,” she practically whispered. Even her voice was shaky.

It was done. The papers were signed. The vows were done. If Grandmother was present, she would’ve been having an apoplectic fit at how I’d rushed through this all.

It wasn’t done yet. I intended to hurry and get this woman—now my wife —into bed.

“We’re done?” I glanced at the officiant, daring him to make me wait any longer. The thrum of violence stayed steady within me. I had to move. I had to get out of here and fuck this wife of mine until some of this tension had left me.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Good. Let’s go.” Once more, I grabbed her wrist and dragged her out of the room.

“Wait. Please.” Her quiet protests annoyed me, and I hauled her toward the elevator faster.

“Shut the fuck up,” I growled as we entered. Releasing her seemed to give her the idea that she could hide. Plastering herself against the other wall, she shrank and hunched her shoulders.

“I don’t want this. Please. I don’t want to do this. Where are you taking me?”

“It’s too fucking late. We’re married.” The doors opened to my apartment, and I took hold of her again to pull her into my room. Not bothering with the lights, I pushed her toward the bed.

“No! Please don’t!” She tried to step away from me, panicking, but I caught her with a hand on her upper arm. “I don’t want this.”

Neither did I, dammit.

“Too bad.”

She cried out with alarm as I towered behind her, trying to shove her onto the bed.

“Please. No!”

I was sick of her protests. Snatching my loosened tie off my neck, I grunted at her wrestling to get away. I slipped the silk length around her head, gagging her until her stubbornness was nothing more than muffled mumbles.

“Too bad,” I repeated.

I had to do my duty, whether she wanted me to or not.

Whether I wanted to or not.

If my brother, my boss, expected me to be rough with my wife so I could get answers out of her quicker, then that was what I’d do.