Page 29 of Twisted Proposal

"Neither will I, cousin. I may not fight for the same reasons you do, but I will fight to protect this family and everyone who is in it."

We stared at each other.

A show of wills, neither of us blinking.

The air between us crackled with electric tension, our brothers shifting uncomfortably in the periphery.

I wasn't going to back down, and neither was he.

"This is going to happen, cousin, one way or another. You can help me or fight me. The end result will be the same."

"You underestimate me." His words were a knife's edge.

Before I could respond, the door burst open and two of my men walked in, their faces tight with urgency.

"You were told we were not to be disturbed," I snapped, jaw clenching.

"Apologies but—" One of the guards looked around and then leaned in, lowering his voice so I had to strain to hear him.

"It's Viktoria. She is at a party, exposed, and we think she might be drugged. There have been reports of frats drugging girls and we want to know how you want to handle it."

Fuck.

I was practically accusing Gregor of being distracted and losing his edge for a woman, and here I was, ready to abandon a critical negotiation for the same reason.

"Gentlemen, something has come up that requires my immediate attention." I straightened my tie, already calculating the fastest route to her location.

I didn't wait for Gregor to respond, to demand answers, or ask what I was doing.

Even if I were inclined to give Gregor the answers, I didn't have the time.

As soon as I got my hands on Viktoria, she was going to learn what happened to little girls who put themselves in risky situations.

And whoever touched her would learn what happened when they took something that belonged to me.

CHAPTER11

ARTEM

The deafening roar of the helicopter blades silenced the laughter of a bunch of drunk college students.

All cloudy, unfocused eyes turned to me as I stepped out of the shadows of the spinning blades, the downdraft whipping my custom suit against my body like a second skin.

Everyone on the lawn ducked down onto the grass, cowering like rabbits before a wolf, as if the blades that were over ten feet off the ground were going to decapitate them. Unmoved by the wind that had them scrambling, I methodically buttoned my suit jacket and made my way toward the house with two of my men flanking me like dark sentinels.

"Cops," one drunk college student yelled. Several of them panicked and ran, tripping over themselves, abandoning cups and dignity in equal measure.

Fucking drunken idiots.

When was the last time a cop showed up to a frat house wearing a Tom Ford suit worth more than their tuition, arriving in a helicopter that cost more than this entire shithole campus?

I thought Viktoria had chosen a good school. If this was the intelligence of the student body, perhaps we needed to revisit her choice. Immediately.

I took a moment to absorb the scene through narrowed eyes: the front lawn littered with red Solo cups and piles of vomit; the occasional passed-out student sprawled like human detritus. Loud, obnoxious music blared from the house, bass thumping like an irregular heartbeat in time with the strobe lights flashing from the windows, casting demonic shadows across the property.

My girl wasn't out here on the lawn, so she must be inside.

For her sake, she had better be in one of the public rooms.