“May I help you with something?” I turn away from the rows of onesies to the employee wearing a polite smile.
I shake my head, chuckling softly. “No. I’m fine. I just thought I’d do some window shopping. Thank you.”
She nods. “Alright, ma’am. I’ll be around the corner if you decide to get anything or if you need help.”
She walks away, and I turn to the display again, lifting my hand to the vibrant green onesie in front of me. Shopping for baby things.
I didn’t think I would be doing any of that for a while, but when I woke up this morning, unable to sit still, it was the first thing that came to mind.
“I suppose I could get one thing?” I mutter, my hand drifting to my stomach. I’m not even showing, months away from that, but I’ve never been one to show up unprepared.
And a baby—well, that’s a big responsibility.
I walk out of the store with two bags and a pleased smile on my face. As I near the car, I notice the driver’s seat is empty. My gaze pans my surroundings, but Sergei is nowhere to be found.
Panic floods my chest as my grip on the bags tightens, and I immediately think the worst. He’s been kidnapped. While I was inside, shopping, someone took him.
“Or maybe he stepped away for a moment,” I say, arguing aloud with my thoughts, even as my pulse races. I spent my whole life always thinking about the worst-case scenarios. More than half of them never happened, and I also managed to miss the most obvious ones.
I might also be wrong here.
My senses are on alert as I circle the car, checking the driver’s side to see if the key is still in the ignition. It seems logical enough—if they had kidnapped him from the car, he wouldn’t have had time to take the key.
It’s not there. The door’s locked too.
I was wrong. I sigh in relief as I reach for my phone to locate him, but my fingers never make contact with my pocket. From behind me, I see someone, but I’m too late—a gloved hand clamps over my mouth as a black van pulls up.
“No!” I yell as my bags drop to the ground, kicking my legs out and clawing with my fingers, trying to break free. “Let me go!” I scream, biting hard on the rubber glove. “Let me go!”
I’m shoved into the van, a sack shoved over my head, and it speeds off.
But I don’t stop fighting. I yank the sack off my head, whirling around to face the men behind me. Two of them—one larger than the other.
“Let me go,” I snarl. “Or I swear you’ll regret it. Do you know who I am?” I hiss when they don’t answer. “I’m Isabella Volkov. I’m married to Roman Volkov, you pieces of shit!”
“Quick to abandon your father’s name, are you?” the smaller one with a rugged race sneers. “How typical. I wonder if he’ll be disappointed.”
My father? I frown. Why would they care about my father? How do they know who I am?
“Your father sent us,” the larger one explains as he leans closer. The smell of rank sweat and bleach makes me gag. “You can stop fighting.”
I scoff. “My father would never do that. He abandoned me the moment he sold me off to be married. I don’t know who you’re working for, but I suggest you let me go right now. If you want to keep your tongues in your mouths.”
The smaller one bares his teeth, and I see a row of cheap metal. “Try it, printsessa. He said to bring you. He never specified what condition.”
Printsessa. My ears burn with rage. How dare he? Only Roman gets to call me that. “Try it.” My lips spread in a thin smile. “And see what happens. Even if my father sent you, you’re no more useful to him than a subdued dog. He’ll put you down the second he sees you’ve outlived your usefulness.”
That takes the smugness from him real quick.
But it also confirms what he said—that my father sent them. I turn back, puzzled. Why would he want me, now of all times? He wasn’t present when I almost got married. It didn’t matter to him when I got kidnapped, and he didn’t care when I got married to Roman.
It feels like an ugly setup.
Whatever he wants, he’ll find that I’ve become a much different person since we last met.
He looks the same. Much leaner, a lot scruffier, and less respectable, but my father looks pretty much the same as he walks into the room where the men left me.
“What is this?” I ask, mocking him. “You couldn’t pick a better place—it had to be a laundromat?”
“Good to see you, Bella,” he says with a throaty rasp. “You’ve changed.”
Yeah, no shit. “I went through some life-changing events,” I retort. “And you ran underground, cutting off your only child when she needed you the most.”
He pulls up a chair and sets it before me, lowering himself onto it. “I had no other choice. It was the only way to protect you. To protect our family.”
God. I grit my teeth at his speech. Months ago, I might’ve believed his crap. Now, I roll my eyes. “Spare me the excuses, Dad. We both know it was all for you. You’ve insulted my intelligence long enough, but don’t do it anymore. I’m not the same person you abandoned in a cathedral because you found me to be the perfect pawn.”
My father sighs as he shakes his head slowly. “You don’t understand how these things work, Bella,” he says gently, but it sounds like he’s explaining it to a toddler. “Why would you think I’d abandon you? Can’t you see? It was all part of my plan.”
His plan.
I might put my fist through his mouth if I sit here any longer.
“Roman Volkov is a threat against our family. I needed him gone, and I knew you could do the job.”
I pinch my fingers to the bridge of my nose as I exhale. When I lift my head again, every trace of civility is gone. The pretense, the tolerance…all gone. “Is he a threat against our family, or did you kill his father, and he’s only retaliating?”
“What did he tell you?”
“What did you do?”
“He’s a liar,” he argues as his face turns ugly. “Just like his father. These people only care about themselves while they use us as pawns.”
“Don’t!” I yell as I stand, my shoulders trembling in rage. “Don’t you dare gaslight me. You ran from Italy, begging his father for help. And yet you turned around and killed him.”
Disgust pours through my words, and I jab my finger at him so he feels every single one. “You’re everything you taught me not to be. You tricked me into agreeing to marry someone I barely knew. You told me you were training me to take over from you, but you never planned on doing that.”
“Bella, listen to me.” He stands and steps closer, but I flinch when he tries to touch me. “Don’t be foolish,” he hisses. “You think getting married to a man means you know him? Because he showed you a slice of affection, you think he’s the good guy, and I’m the bad one?”
My chest heaves as he speaks, but the fact that he could read the truth, to some extent, throws me off a little.
And he sees it.
“My Bella,” he murmurs. “You’re a smart girl. Do you believe he has your best interest at heart—a man trained to kill?”
“Yes,” I say, refusing to let him sink his fingers of doubt into my head. “Yes, he does. Because Roman has never once lied to me. He didn’t try to deceive me either.” My eyes sting with tears. “You, on the other hand, are the worst human I know.”
Quietly, I add, “I’m leaving. I don’t want anything to do with you.”
He grabs my hand before I can turn, pushing me against one of the washing machines. I hit my back with a thud as his fingernails sink into my wrist, punishing me.
“You will do as I say, or the consequences will be worse than anything you’ve ever seen.”
“Where have you been?” Roman asks as I walk into the house hours later, his voice filled with restrained frustration.
He was pacing the living room a second before I walked in, and I could see his muscles tensed so hard they could’ve snapped if I had delayed a second longer.
I shake my head, too tired…too drained from my conversation with my father to summon a word.
As I try to walk past, he steps in front of me, his hand shooting out to hold my wrist. The feeling—the mere brush of his fingers against my skin—has me jerking back.
My body responds the way it did when my father shoved me against the washing machine with fear. Roman’s eyes narrow and darken, but his hand falls away.
“What happened?” he asks. There’s heat in his voice, and his frustration bleeds through clearly, but I know it’s not directed at me.
And that’s why I can’t tell him the truth.
Because I know he’s going to go charging after my father. Blindly.
“I will kill him, Bella. You think I don’t have the resources? I’ve been underground for months. Gathering resources. Do you know how many people are willing to take a stab at Roman Volkov? So many.”
He smiled as he said it. Grinned, even. I could tell he meant every word. If it was his delusion or the truth, I’m not certain.
But I can’t let Roman walk into a trap for my sake.
“I just—” I sigh, masking the ache that threatens to rip tears from my eyes. “I got lost. I don’t know how it happened or what I was thinking. I’m sorry if I got you worried.”
“Worried?” he replies with clenched teeth, and I see his fists curling at his sides. I know he wants to touch me again, but he’s holding back. And somehow, it breaks me even more.
Roman runs his fingers through his hair, letting out a drawn, harsh breath. “I thought something had happened to you. You disappeared for three hours, Isabella. I had Leo, Sergei, heck—every last man under my command searching for you until you called to say you were okay.”
My father would never do the same.
“I—” I bite my cheek, turning away to blink back tears. “I’m sorry.” My voice is a near whisper, because any louder and Roman will see what I’m trying to hide. “I didn’t mean to make you worried.”
He sighs. “It’s fine. You’re here now.” He steps closer and reaches for me again, but I flinch. Not because of my father this time.
I’d break. If he touched me, I’d break without a doubt. “I should get some rest,” I murmur, running off before I can change my mind. I run up the stairs, not stopping until I’m behind the door and far away from him.
Then I let it fall. The tears. The sting from my father’s lies and betrayal.
I let them pull me to the ground, tearing sobs from my chest and ripping my heart into pieces.
