Page 59

MIA

“Now… whatever shall I do with you?”

I fight the urge to recoil. In an ideal world, I’d grab Brad’s greasy fingers and snap them clean in half. No matter how badly I want to do that, though, getting Kallie out was just part one of the plan. If I want part two to work…

Then I’m just gonna have to grin and bear it.

“I remember the day I saw you on that beach.” His fingers trail lazily down my chest. “Sluttiest little whore I’d ever seen.”

“Oh?” I want to punch him, but I force myself to act curious. “How did you figure?”

“Are you kidding? You had that skimpy string bikini on. Barely covered a thing.” As if to make his point, he trails the edge of my cleavage. The hunger in his touch makes my stomach churn. “I knew, then and there, you’d be the easiest lay of my life.”

Fuck you. I thought you loved me. The words are on my lips, but I don’t speak them. I know better than to wear my heart on my sleeve now—he’s the one who taught me what happens if I do.

Besides, that pain belongs to another version of me. A younger, more innocent Mia, one who still answered to the nickname “Euphie.” Who still believed in love at first sight, thunderclap and all.

But this Mia doesn’t give a shit whether Bradley Baldwin loves her or not.

“Who’d have thought that little slut would have the guts to go through my laptop?” Brad shakes his head, as if the idea amuses him. “But then again, you always did surprise me.”

“Doubt I found even half of it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I keep my tone casual. “Prizrak… they’re not your only benefactor, are they? You’ve got more.”

Brad’s chest literally puffs up at that. “A good businessman knows to keep his friends close.”

“And his enemies closer?”

“You could say that.” He leans in as he speaks. His alcohol breath fills my nostrils, but I resist the urge to throw up. “I offered Yulian a piece, you know. But he wouldn’t take it.”

The mention of Yulian’s name makes my heart jump. I pray he hasn’t noticed. “A piece of what?”

“My empire.” He twirls a strand of my hair around his finger. “The Baldwin Complex? It’s just the beginning. I’m going to expand it to Montauk.”

My blood freezes. “You… what?”

“Luxury summer residences. Of course, it’s a high-scale project, so the current residents will have to go.” He says it with such pride, it makes me want to punch all his teeth in. “You understand. The upper class doesn’t like flies in their soup.”

Nor poor people in their gentrified neighborhoods. I clench my fists quietly, out of sight. I can barely hide my disgust.

“Don’t worry,” he adds. “Your parents will have a place. If you behave, that is.”

“So you’re the one who took their home.” I try to keep the accusatory tone down, but I fear I’m doing a piss-poor job of it.

“You were misbehaving.” Brad sinks his nose into the crook of my neck, takes one long drag of my perfume. It makes goosebumps explode all over my body—decidedly not the good kind. “Had to show you who’s boss.”

“So you own the bank, too?” Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. “That’s… how you did it?”

“Of course.” His lips graze my pulse point. “I own everything. Even if it isn’t always in my name.”

“To avoid problems.”

“Mhmm. The SEC isn’t too fond of collusion. Or shell companies.” He ghosts a kiss over the shell of my ear. “Or offshore accounts.”

“And when that’s not enough?” I try to move away, but he grabs me around the waist, keeps me right where he wants me. “What… what do you do then?”

“Do you even have to ask?” He shakes his head. “I have Prizrak.”

“And other mobsters.”

“Sure. The Italians, the Serbians—they’re not delicate like your little boyfriend. They’ve put away a body or two for me. Some… unsavory tenants.”

Horror grips me. “You mean… killed?”

“What are you, stupid? Of course I mean killed.” He grabs my chin, tilts it up. “Stupid little Mia. Always the last to catch up. Thank fuck you’ve got tits, huh?”

Killed. The one sin I thought he hadn’t committed. But of course he did. He just had other people do the dirty work for him.

I was so stupid. So fucking stupid to think there was a limit to what this man would or wouldn’t do.

If he hasn’t killed me, it’s only because he’s not done playing with me.

“W-We should…” I glance around the deserted parking lot in a panic. “We should move somewhere else. Somewhere more private.”

The second syringe full of sedatives is burning a hole in my pocket. As soon as Brad turns, I’ll drive it into his arm, and then this nightmare will be over.

As soon as?—

“No.”

I blink. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean this. ”

Suddenly, he’s shoving me against a pillar. “Brad?—!”

“I’m tired of waiting.” He’s panting now, squeezing my hips with greedy hands. “You’ve been dangling it in my face for months. Now, I’m finally gonna take what’s mine.”

No. No, no, no. My stomach is roiling, sending waves of nausea through me. This can’t be happening.

I thought I was ready for this possibility. That I’d swallow my pride if that’s what it took to save Kallie and Eli. A small sacrifice to make.

But I was wrong. I’m not ready.

I don’t want this.

I—

“What?” Brad chuckles. “You’re struggling now? That’s cute. Adds a little flavor, for sure.”

“Let me go,” I growl. “Don’t?—”

“Oh, please. You’re not fooling anyone.” He pins my wrists with one hand, starts tracing the scars on my arm with the other. “In the end, you always let me do whatever I want. Remember these? I’d put out my smokes on you all the time. And you’d let me. You were so smitten, you’d fucking let me.”

“Stop,” I gasp. “Just—stop!”

“That’s when I knew.” He ignores me, keeps carrying on with his sick monologue as he shoves a knee between my thighs. “No amount of kicking and punching was going to cure you of me.”

“Th-that’s not true.”

“No?” He puts his hand on my belly. “You’ve been following the same script with the new boy toy. Shake your ass, get pregnant, get rich. Too bad it didn’t work this time either, huh?”

I can barely hear what he’s saying. Every motherly instinct in me is screaming, roaring with rage.

Don’t touch my daughter. Don’t you fucking dare.

“But you made a mistake.” His voice grows softer, almost indulgent. “You always make the same mistake, don’t you?”

“What… mistake?”

“Getting attached.” He taps on my belly once, twice. “First to my little bastard, then to his.”

“They’re not bastards,” I say, furious like I’ve never been before. “They’re my children.”

“They’re dead weights.” The line of his mouth turns cruel. “And unlike you, I don’t like repeating my mistakes.”

Cold dread settles into my gut. “What are you talking about?”

“I never managed to beat the other one out of you.” He splays his palm over my baby bump. “Maybe I’ll have better luck with this one. After all, it’s not even mine.”

“Stop.” I start thrashing, kicking and screaming, but he’s too heavy on me. One hand is still holding both my wrists, the other free to roam wherever the hell it wants. Do whatever the hell it wants. “Stop! Let me go!”

I thought he was going to rape me. That that was the nightmare I’d be forced to live through.

But this is so much worse.

He’s going to kill my baby.

He’s going to ? —

“What do you say?” He grabs my face, his grip steel. “Shall we get the party started?”

“Don’t.” My tone turns pleading. “Please, Brad, don’t.” I squeeze my eyes against the tears.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby girl.

I’m sorry, Eli. Mommy couldn’t save anyone after all.

I’m sorry … Yulian.

Then, suddenly, I’m falling.

My knees hit the ground hard. The pressure on my jaw disappears. My blood starts flowing through my wrists again.

I see Brad reeling on the concrete. Blood is spurting from his nose.

A black suit shoe steps into view in front of me. Black suit pants, too.

I look up?—

And my blood curdles.

“What?” Desya Bogdanov grins, wiping Brad’s blood off his fist like it’s nothing. “Were you expecting someone else, printsessa? ”

My brain short-circuits. Desya—he’s supposed to be dead. I shot him. I saw him die.

But did you?

No. Actually, I didn’t. I saw the bullets enter his body, and then his body hit the water. That’s it—that’s what I saw.

But who on earth could survive that?

Before I can find an answer to that, however, someone else answers Desya’s question.

“Yes,” Yulian growls, drawing his gun. “She was expecting me.”