29
IVAN
The audio is coming through crystal clear.
When Cora left the restaurant, the necklace was shoved in her pocket. Everything was muffled and unintelligible. But she must have figured out how to display the necklace without raising eyebrows. Because I can hear every word.
Every disgusting, horrendous word.
Konstantin Sokolov hasn’t changed a bit since he and my father arranged for me to marry Katerina. “The goal of any marriage is healthy offspring,” he’d said, gesturing to his barely twenty-year-old daughter. “No woman will give you higher quality babies than Katerina. She’s ready for this.”
Of course, Katerina wasn’t ready for it. For any of it.
She ran away the same way Cora tried to. She started over.
The difference is that Katerina is still free. Without his prized offspring, Konstantin has set his sights on Cora. She is his only hope to have heirs. Because no one in their right mind would marry Mikhail Sokolov.
And Konstantin knows it.
“The wedding should happen as soon as propriety allows.” It takes me a second to realize that is Konstantin’s voice in the present and not from my memories.
I bring my phone closer to my ear, trying to catch every word.
“We could fast track things a few weeks,” Alexander snivels. “The main concern would be the investment. Putting a rush on some of these things will be costly and the benefit I’m expected to get out of it—”
Konstantin cuts him off. “The cost is of no concern to me.”
Liars. The cost is the only thing that matters to any of them. They are all looking at their bottom lines all the time. The moment this union doesn’t bring in enough money or ensure enough power, it will be dissolved.
I hear Cora sigh every so often. Her breath rumbles against the speaker, sending a blast of static. The reminder that she is alive and breathing is calming.
Which is good—because nothing else about the conversation is calming.
It’s the world’s most boring boxing match. These two preening idiots squaring off, circling each other while they try to make sure they are each getting the better end of the deal.
Konstantin wants to know Alexander’s fixer business is on an upward trajectory. Alexander wants to know that selling his stepdaughter will guarantee Konstantin Sokolov’s continued business moving forward.
It’s not dinner conversation; it’s a buffet of the thoughts of insecure men. Men who have nothing better to do than sell their sons and daughters into joyless marriages while they count their coins.
At one point, I could have been one of them. If it hadn’t been for watching my own sister suffer… If I hadn’t been engaged to Katerina, who literally begged me to help her get free… Maybe I would have turned into one of these manipulative ghouls who treat the people around them like kindling for the fire.
But now, there is Cora.
With Cora, it isn’t just about setting her free and helping her escape this world. It’s about destroying any world that would ever want to keep her down.
Mikhail’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts. The audio jumps and then picks up. “Impregnating her won’t be a worry, but whether she can carry a Sokolov baby full term is.”
My knuckles go white as I grip the phone.
The thought of Mikhail even being in the same room as Cora is enough to make me want to drive across town and drag Cora out of there, body count be damned. But the thought of him touching her… impregnating her… there isn’t a violent enough word for what it makes me want to do to him.
Maybe that anger is why I didn’t hear the footsteps in the hall until the knob is turning.
I swipe out of the audio app and place my phone face down on my desk just as Francia stomps into my office.
“I will not live like this, Ivan!” she screeches. “I will not live like this. I refuse. This treatment is—is—It’s unacceptable!”
Her hair is in a sweaty, frizzy mess around her head and she’s panting. She must have marched here all the way from her wing of the house.
“Ah, yes. Of course.” I fold my shaking hands on top of my desk and nod. “I can see how living in a mansion with two maids assigned to care for you, around-the-clock protection, and a live-in chef could be unacceptable. How dare I make sure your every need is met?”
Francia stares daggers into me, but all I can think about is Cora locked away in her room. She has no freedom, no connection to the outside world beyond the phone a maid will hopefully be delivering to her soon, and she’s withering away with every passing day.
She’s completely alone, trapped in that room with men who don’t deserve to breathe the same air as her.
And I’m here… listening to Francia complain about the accommodations she stole from Cora.
Without looking at my unwelcome bride, I grab my phone and fire off a text to Cora’s burner number.
It’s me. Use this phone if you need it. I’m here.
I want Cora to know she isn’t alone. No matter how she feels right now, I’m going to come for her. I’m going to get her out of there.
When I look up, smoke might as well be pouring out of Francia’s ears. “There is more to a life than amenities, Ivan,” she spits. “I don’t care what the thread count of my sheets are if you can’t even make it through a single conversation with me without grabbing your phone. I don’t care about a jacuzzi tub if no one in this fucking mansion respects my role as your wife.”
“We aren’t married.”
“Yet,” she hisses. “We aren’t married yet. But we will be, and being treated like a second-class citizen in my own home is not what I signed up for.”
“Guess you should have read the fine print.” It’s a struggle not to laugh in her face. “You aren’t dead. You could be dead. I suggest you keep that in mind and you’ll be more grateful.”
She blanches, but doesn’t back down. “I’m a Bratva wife. I should have some power.”
“I’m sorry the reality isn’t living up to your fantasy.”
“This isn’t about some fantasy I have, Ivan! I’m not a little girl with stars in her eyes. I’m not Cora.”
Her name hits me like a bolt of lightning. I go rigid. I feel every breath. Every inhale and exhale.
I’ve toed the line between pushing Francia away and drawing her in. I’ve held my tongue and let her buy new pillows for the sitting room. I’ve sat back and let her play House, all so she’d think there was even the vaguest chance that I could come to accept her as my wife.
But now… fuck it.
“No,” I snarl, my voice pure venom. “You’re not. You’re a fucking business deal and not a goddamn thing more. If you’re alive to say, ‘I do,’ then that is good enough for me. Beyond that, you’re useless to me.”
Truthfully, I have no intention of ever letting this bullshit get that far. But I don’t need to reveal all of my cards at once. Not when a peek at this hand is sending Francia into shock.
Her eyes are wide as she blinks at me, silent for the first time in a long time. Thank fucking God.
“You wanted a strong, capable bride.” Her voice is unsure like she hasn’t fully convinced herself. “You wanted a partnership. That’s what you said. How can this be a partnership if… if I’m disrespected?”
“I’ll make sure you are respected in public,” I tell her. “It does me no good if you are a laughingstock amongst our peers. But in this house, I won’t lift a finger to make your life easier. I won’t go out of my way to make sure the staff cuts the crusts off your sandwiches or makes your bed.”
“But… but we’re engaged! I—”
“You forced me into this marriage,” I remind her icily. “If you thought I would take kindly to that, you severely underestimated me. And if you don’t like the way things are going here, you have no one to blame but yourself. The moment you decided to double cross me, this is the life you signed up for. You are my bride, not my beloved. And you never will be.”
I expect Francia to throw another fit. To scream and shout until she gets her way.
Instead, she glares at me for one second, two, three… Then she turns and twirls out of the room, leaving as silently as she came.
Konstantin Sokolov wants to bump up their time frame. Well, I have yet another great reason to bump up mine.
Francia is not going to quit this easily.