Chapter 8 - Alisa
I only let myself fall apart after the door clicked shut behind Dante.
The minute it did, I clutched at the little stool behind me and fell back into it, still staring after him as I tried to breathe through the tornado of emotions roaring through me.
My skin still burned where his eyes had touched it, leaving trails all over my half-naked body.
I didn’t even notice when I started to smile.
Men were so damn predictable. Wave something shiny in front of them, or in this case, something lacy and black, and they forget why they came in the first place.
I glanced at myself in the mirror, still clad in my lingerie. The flush on my cheeks wasn’t just from how hot the changing room was.
God, the way he looked at me made me want to devour him whole.
And some reckless part of me fell right back down memory lane, and when he stood there, watching me, I found myself wanting him to stay. For a brief moment there, I had hoped he’d make a move, brush me up against the wall, and take me how he used to.
But that wasn’t why I was here.
I grabbed my clothes off the hook and yanked them on with trembling hands.
Dante showing up was a complication I hadn’t expected, but I’d managed to handle it. I hadn’t cowered, or covered up, or asked him to get out.
Instead, I’d improved, stood tall, bent my hip just right.
I needed him to get all swept up in me, in memories of us, because that was the only way I knew how to jumble his head. And my plan worked, didn’t it?
I saw that hungry look he walked away with. While I waited out a few minutes in the dressing room, I knew Dante was getting as far away from me as possible.
And thank god for that because if he knew what I was planning…
I checked the time on my watch. Shoot. I was running late. I jumped off the stool and began to dress, forcing Dante, any thoughts of Dante, and his name itself out of my mind.
I had to focus.
The sales assistant smiled when I exited the changing room. “Find anything you like, Ma’am?”
“Not today,” I sighed, sounding disappointed. “I think I need to rethink the whole look.”
Her smile dimmed slightly. “Oh, of course, I understand.”
“Will you be wanting me to order those pieces you liked that weren’t available in your size? I can have them sent to your home for trial.”
“No, thank you.” I smiled sweetly, then hesitated, feigning awkwardness. “Actually, would you mind if I used your back exit? My car’s parked in the alley, and I’m running late for another appointment.”
She nodded immediately. “Of course. Right this way.”
I followed her through a narrow hallway lined with inventory boxes, mentally mapping the route. All those shopping trips hadn’t just been about spending Dante’s money. I’d been memorizing the city roads, strategizing an escape, and studying my bodyguard’s habits.
I knew he wouldn’t leave his post at the front of the store. After all, Dante’s men were trained to watch the main door for trouble, not to suspect the person they were protecting.
“Here you are,” the assistant said, holding open a service door that led to a narrow alley. “Thank you for shopping with us.”
I thanked her and stepped outside. The alley was empty except for a few delivery trucks and a stray cat pawing at something near a dumpster.
I wasted no time and walked quickly toward the street.
At the end of the alley, I peeked around the corner. My bodyguard was still visible through the boutique’s front window, checking his watch and looking bored.
He had no idea I was gone.
I ducked my head and walked briskly in the opposite direction, putting as much distance between us as possible before hailing a cab.
One pulled over almost immediately, and I slid into the back seat with relief.
“Where to, miss?” the driver asked.
“Federal courthouse, please.”
As the cab pulled away from the curb, I allowed myself a small, victorious smile.
I’d done it.
For the first time in weeks, I was truly alone. No Dante, no bodyguards, no one watching my every move.
I leaned back against the seat, rehearsing what I’d say to my father when I saw him. The questions that had been burning in my mind since the night I was taken.
What were you doing, making deals with those men?
Are you in trouble?
Have you been looking for me?
I wasn’t naive. I knew my father walked in dangerous circles as a federal prosecutor. He’d made enemies and powerful ones at that, too. Those men I’d overheard him talking to that night—they must have been threatening him.
That was the only explanation that made sense because my strong, hardworking father was anything but corrupt. All these years, I’d seen him work harder than any man around in the public office. That had to mean something.
Only a man of character would have dedicated his entire life to his office. I think back to all those nights as a kid that I spent up, waiting for Papa to return from work. Many nights, he never did.
I knew, in my heart, a man that dedicated to his service won’t choose to take a bribe unless something was seriously wrong.
The closer we drew to the building where his office was, the more excited I got. Papa and I had so much to catch up on. If he had noticed me gone, I knew he must have been worried sick.
I didn’t know what I would say when I saw him.
The truth, I felt, would get Dante in trouble.
Besides, was there any reason to bring him up when I’d found nothing concrete to report to my father?
Maybe, if he didn’t know about the auction, about Dante marrying me, I could get away with just listening to his side of things.
And if I knew what the problem was, I could go back to Dante’s and hunt for targeted information to help Papa out of this bind.
As the courthouse came into view, my stomach knotted with anxiety. What if he wasn’t there? What if those men were watching him?
“Here we are,” the driver announced, pulling up to the curb.
I paid him and stepped out. Inside, I showed my ID to the security guard, who barely glanced at it before waving me through the metal detector.
The elevator was packed with lawyers and clerks. I squeezed myself into the corner, trying to be invisible. When the doors opened on the fifth floor, I slipped out and headed down the corridor to his office.
My father’s office was at the end of the hall, a corner space with his name on a brass plate beside the door: MARC MONTES, FEDERAL PROSECUTOR.
As I approached, I heard raised voices from inside. I slowed, suddenly cautious, remembering what happened the last time around.
Were those men back?
My heart raced.
My father rarely lost his temper, and never at work. The door was slightly ajar, and I moved closer.
Then I heard my name.
“—Alisa was the perfect leverage!” my father bellowed with anger. “And now she’s married to Dante fucking Lebedev? How the hell did you let that happen?”
I froze, the blood gushing to my ears.
“We didn’t expect things to turn out the way they did,” a man spoke, his voice eerily familiar. “Some of our guys made a mistake by putting her on stage.”
“Well, your people fucked up,” my father snapped. “And now the family I promised her to is breathing down my neck. They wanted her as payment.”
I flung my hands to my mouth to stop myself from screaming out loud. My vision tunneled, my mouth went dry, and every breath I took was a struggle.
My father had bartered me in a deal.
“We can still fix this,” another man said. “We can take her back.”
“From the Lebedevs? Are you insane?” My father hissed. “Do you have any idea what Caspian Lebedev would do if we touched his brother’s wife? We’d be lucky if he just killed us.”
I pressed my hand against the wall to steady myself, the room spinning around me. This couldn’t be Father talking. This had to be some kind of misunderstanding, or maybe someone had a gun to his head.
Carefully, I edged closer and peered through the crack in the door.
My father had his back to me, and facing him were the very same men who had kidnapped me in the first place.
The ones from the crew who had put me on that stage.
The world started to spin as the ground shattered beneath my feet.
Every single thing I believed to be true turned to mist. I had come here hoping to help my father, believing in my heart that he’d protect me if I needed.
And all the while, he was the reason I was in this mess in the first place.
“I don’t care how you do it,” my father was saying, “but you need to get her back. I have people waiting for her, a groom getting impatient.”
I clutched my heart, trying to stand still as my knees shook beneath me.
“Marc, be reasonable,” one of the men said. “The Lebedevs have her now. Maybe we can offer them something else—”
“No!” My father slammed his fist on the desk. “I promised them my daughter, and they’ll get her. She’s the only thing that will satisfy their demand. Find a way.”
Each word stole more air from my lungs.
He promised them. My father promised them his daughter.
He arranged it all.
The kidnapping.
Maybe not the auction.
But he had already sold me to get ahead.
I stumbled back, feeling sick to my throat. The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. I needed to get out of there before I passed out.
I turned and ran, not caring who saw me. Down the corridor, past startled faces, into the elevator that thankfully stood open. I jabbed at the button for the lobby, pressing it repeatedly, as if that would make the doors close faster.
When they finally did, I collapsed against the wall, wrapping my arms around myself to keep from shaking apart.
This couldn’t be real. The man who taught me to ride a bike, who took me hiking as a kid, who helped with every math problem I had—he couldn’t have done this.
Yet even as the memories come rushing back, another layer resurfaces, a side of him I had made myself forget because otherwise, it would have meant holding on to rage.
Everything he did when I was younger felt like control I could have mistaken for devotion. When I couldn’t get a math problem right, he’d call me a fool. When I couldn’t complete that hike, he pushed me forward despite the tears rolling down my face.
But none of those things are enough to help me make sense of what I heard with my own ears. Whether my father was controlling or devoted, it didn’t matter. He was my father, and no father just sells their daughter off like a prized pig.
So how could he have done that to me?
By the time the elevator reached the lobby, I’d managed to pull myself together just enough to walk.
I pushed through the revolving doors and gulped down the city air, suddenly desperate to put as much distance between myself and that building with my father as possible.
I ran down the courthouse steps, blindly heading to the street. People blurred past me, and some of them cursed as I brushed past them, but I didn’t care.
All I could see was my father’s face as he said those words: “I promised them my daughter.”
Tears streamed down my face, but I didn’t bother wiping them away.
What was the point?
My entire world had just collapsed.
I reached a busy intersection and raised my hand to hail a cab, not even knowing where I’d go.
Back to Dante’s, of course. Where else?
I felt cold and pressed my arms around myself. I had nowhere else to go. After everything, Dante was the only safe space I had, and all this time, it was him I called dangerous.
The irony made my heart lurch.
Dante had never pretended to be anything other than what he was. My father had let me think he was my safe place my entire life.
A black SUV screeched to a halt beside me, and my heart lurched into my throat. Had they followed me? Were they taking me to be sold off now?
The passenger door flew open, and Dante himself jumped out, his face tight with fury.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, grabbing my arm. “Do you have any idea—”
He stopped abruptly, finally seeing my face.
“Alisa? What happened?”
I opened my mouth to tell him off, to pull away, to run again—but instead, a sob escaped. And suddenly I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t stand.
Dante caught me before I fell, his arms coming around me like steel bands.
“Hey,” he said, his voice softening. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”