Page 9 of Twisted Fate

“You’ll embarrass yourself. And your family.” Her defiant gaze meets mine, and I’m more certain than ever that she and my father are colluding in some way.

I take a step close to her, close enough to touch, my body nearly brushing against hers. She draws in a sharp, startled breath, taking a step back, but I follow, until she’s nearly at the foot of the stairs.

“That sounds like a threat, Miss Moretti. And I don’t take kindly to those.

” I reach up, as if to brush a piece of hair away from her face, but instead I curl my fingers around the edge of her jaw, my thumb pressing into the divot of her chin.

“You will want to think about how you speak to me in the future, if you’re going to be my wife. ”

I think I see the faintest flash of fear cross her face as I release her.

It should bother me—I’m not in the habit of making women afraid of me—but right now I don’t care.

All I care about is that I’m being fucking managed—by my father, by this woman, by everyone who has a stake in this empire going forward. And I’m fucking tired of it.

“Good night, Miss Moretti,” I tell her curtly, and I turn on my heel, stalking down the hall toward my father’s study.

—

He’s already seated in a leather armchair when I walk in, sipping a glass of vodka, straight. I frown as I close the door behind me.

“That’s not good for your health,” I murmur, although right now all I can think is that the sooner he shuffles off this mortal coil, the better.

It’s unkind, especially since my father has never been cruel to me—only controlling.

But words can be as brutal as actions, and my father is a cold man.

What he’s withheld from me has been as damaging as any physical abuse.

“This life isn’t good for my health.” He coughs, setting the glass down. “You’re not seriously thinking of defying me, are you, son?”

“I want to know how this happened.” I don’t bother pouring myself a drink, instead I pace directly in front of where he’s sitting as I glare down at him.

“You’ve always run your potential ideas for my future bride by me before.

You’ve shown me pictures, files, had me meet them, and discussed it with me after.

Now, you spring this woman on me, and then announce the same night that we’re getting married, without so much as consulting me? ”

He waves me off, as if nothing I’m saying matters.

I can feel my blood starting to boil. “You’ve waited too long,” he says, shrugging as he takes another sip of his vodka.

“You find some reason to deny every woman I suggest, Konstantin. I don’t know how much longer I have, and you need to be married.

An associate suggested her to me. On paper, she’s perfect.

In person, she’s delightful. Beautiful. I see no reason why you shouldn’t marry her. ”

“So you backed me into a corner.” I glare at him, fury burning through me like a blaze. “You made sure that if I say no, it will be an embarrassment for all of us. I should say no, just so you have to explain yourself to all of those?—”

“If you say no, there will be consequences, Konstantin.” My father’s gaze meets mine, sharp and clear, steely in a way that’s enough to make even me feel a faint jolt of fear. “You are my heir, but I could find another one.”

“That would destabilize things even more than my ideas .” I grit my teeth. “You won’t let me change things on my own merit, but you would replace me? Over a woman?”

“Over your continued refusal to do what is needed.” My father’s voice is as hard as his gaze.

“You need to marry, Konstantin. If you wish to inherit, then I want to see that the structure of this family will continue. A wife—one that I approve of. The potential for heirs. I want to die knowing that my son has married well. And if not?—”

There’s a threat in his eyes, one that I can imagine the reaches of. How would he justify replacing me? He only has one son. If he lost that son, if I died—he would have no choice but to pass the title on to someone else.

He hasn’t made that threat, but he doesn’t need to. The possibility of it is enough.

“You want me to marry her.” I take a slow breath. “If I say yes?—”

“You have no choice,” he interrupts me. “Or you do, Konstantin—but not a choice that you’ll be pleased with. You will marry her. I want vows said and the marriage done within a month. That’s my last word on the matter.”

I feel my hands curl into fists as I stare down at him, but I know I’ve already lost. Whether he’d kill me or not for saying no—I’d lose the Bratva either way. And while it has always been a weight around my neck, at times feeling like it’s strangling me, it’s also the only life I’ve ever known.

I’ve spilled blood and ruined lives in pursuit of my father’s ends. I want to make up for that, in some way, with the changes I have in mind. I want to bring this family into the new century, to make a difference in how we run things. I can’t do that if I’m disinherited… or dead.

I have to marry Sophia Moretti.