25
I could’ve conducted the business in private, but I wanted Yuri to know that I’d never just sit back and watch from the side-lines. I wanted to catch him off guard.
Freya freezes in my arms, mouth parting as she gazes across the room, where her father is equally surprised.
I pull away from her, but it annoys me. I want to stay and watch the hope drain from her face. I want to drag her away and punish her for thinking she could ever leave in the first place.
Unbidden, the memory of earlier flashes in my mind. She chose to ignore me for a week, and it pissed me off. So I gave it to her. I let her have five minutes of control.
If she decided to kill me in those five minutes, I wouldn’t have held it against her.
But all she did was slap me. I can’t say I didn’t deserve it. I was practically begging for a reaction.
And the way she rode me through my clothes . . . fuck. I loosen my collar.
Freya Morozov is an extreme exercise of self-control. The whole time, I’m promising myself that I won’t give in. And I can’t figure out if she’s sent by God or the devil.
Cause, fuck, do I want to give in.
Across the room, Yuri’s glare could kill. I know what he wants. He’s scrambling to reassume his position, to regain control.
I nod for Luca to follow me, and tell Vito, Luca’s father and my consigliere. “Handle Rune.”
Luca follows me. The sound of the music fades as we walk further down the long narrow hallway to the boardroom.
“Are you going to let her go?” Luca asks.
I’ve always envied my cousin’s easy-going nature — the way he’s naturally able to start conversations. There’s nothing special about the way he talks to Freya. He talks to her like he’d talk to anyone.
What fucks me up is that she talks back.
She passes him those smiles of hers. She gives them to him willingly. Just like that.
I chose her because she was a shiny new toy I wanted to play with. But now, the thought of letting her go is gasoline doused over the wick in my chest.
I’ve developed some sort of sick obsession with her.
I don’t understand it.
It’s like an unknown virus — one with actual fucking symptoms, too.
She gives me constant headaches, and I feel feverish whenever she’s around. When she speaks to me, my mouth goes dry. When she’s too close, I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. When she ignores me, I can’t eat. Can’t sleep. Can’t breathe.
“I don’t know what to do with her,” I say, finally, “She drives me fucking insane.”
Luca sighs. “The only way to truly ensure Yuri’s loyalty, to make sure our interests align, is to keep her.”
I don’t say anything, but he presses on.
“We just need a Costa name attached to a Morozov name for Yuri to keep working with us. To preserve the contract. If you can’t deal with her,” he says, “Then let me have her.”
The image of his hands on her body sends a hot red rage through my veins.
Before I can help it, I’m on him, sending a fist to his face.
“Fuck!” he curses, blood spurting from his nose. There’s a red haze over my mind. I have him flat against the wall, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.
“Touch her,” I say, “and I’ll fucking kill you.”
Luca spits out blood as he glares at me. “What are you going to do, huh? Hurt her for the rest of her life? She’s just a fucking girl, man!”
I let go of him, but not before shoving him against the wall again. “She’s not up for sale.”
“Yeah?” he says, gritting his teeth. “Well, you bought her, didn’t you?”
“Her father’s a cunt,” I spit, “No self-respecting man sells his daughter.”
Luca huffs an empty, humorless laugh. “You’re so fucked up, man.”
My blood boils. “I’m not like him. Do you fucking hear me? I am nothing like him. I won’t let her go.”
“Keep her, then!” Luca snaps. “And be kind to her, for fuck’s sake.”
I’m so close to punching the shit out of this fucker again. Taking a deep breath, I exhale. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell me what to do with my own wife.”
Behind us, there’s the sound of shuffling. Luca swallows his retort and falls in line behind me.
We filter into the boardroom, and I take a seat while Luca stands behind me. A few seconds later, Rune Volkov enters, followed by Vito.
He takes a seat in front of me —he’s one big motherfucker. According to his files, he’s been in more than one underground fight, and he’s not just some rookie who’s easily intimidated.
He gestures for Vito to pour him a glass of whiskey, and the older man grabs a glass and a bottle from the fully stocked rack against the wall, then ice cubes from a mini fridge in the corner of the boardroom.
I know what he’s doing. He’s staying silent, so that the one who speaks first is the one who’s more desperate.
I don’t give a fuck for communication tactics right now. I’m impatient and on edge.
“What are you really here for?” I grind out.
Rune takes his time, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
“Get to the fucking point, Volkov,” I growl, “Or I will.”
Still nothing. I pick up the file in front of me, throwing it to the desk. “You want your brother out of prison. Didn’t take much digging to find out.”
Finally, he lifts his silver gaze to me. And speaks, his voice low and assured. “Morelli has control of a politician I want.”
I fill in the gaps in my mind — he wants a politician with enough power to get his brother out of the high security prison he landed himself in.
“I’ve tried to reach an agreement with him,” Rune says, tongue prodding the inside of his cheek, “His response was that he doesn’t fuck with communists or Russian filth.”
“I don’t spend my time keeping up with Russians, either.”
The corner of his lip tips. “I beg to differ.”
I grind down on my molars, brushing past his breezy nonchalance. “What did Morozov offer you?”
Rune’s face is blank. “He can make sure my brother’s comfortable. Offered me territory. Trade routes,” he says, “and Freya Morozov’s hand in marriage.”
At this, a white-hot anger rushes through my chest. How confident does this Russian bastard have to be to tell me to my face about a marriage offer made on my woman?
I strain against my instincts, retaining a semblance of calm. “And you’re fine with that trade?” I muse. “Seems like you have the short end of the stick.”
He shrugs. “I need a wife.”
“You know that she’s promised to me?” I ask. “That she’s mine?”
“Yes.”
It takes a strenuous amount of energy to not pull out my gun and shoot him in the fucking head.
I grit my teeth. “Why did you accept his offer?”
He swirls his whiskey lazily. “I didn’t anticipate getting one from you.”
I exhale. “We both know that Morozov is insignificant. He’s not what you want. The most he can do is get your brother?s sentence reduced. He?ll be able to get out of there in, what, sixty years? ”
Rune’s jaw is tight.
“I can make you a better offer, and you know it,” I say, giving him a pointed stare. “So tell me what you want.”
It’s a long, torturous while before he chooses to respond.
“Give me information on Nessa Morelli.”
I frown. Jon Morelli has been in the Cosa Nostra for ages, but power keeps evading him. Nessa is his daughter. She should be around her mid-twenties by now.
I narrow my gaze. “What are you planning on doing with her?”
“Using her as leverage,” he says.
My frown deepens.
“Once I have what I want,” he says, “I’ll send the girl back to the protection of her father.”
I clench my jaw. “You won’t hurt her?”
“She’ll be kept alive,” he murmurs.
“You won?t. Hurt. Her?” I press.
There’s a momentary flicker of irritation in his silver gaze. “Jesus Christ, Costa. I won’t fucking touch her. Nessa Morelli is nothing special to me. And since when do you give a shit about a girl’s safety?”
When I was a kid, I’d seen her — Nessa — around, as a child, whenever her father allowed it.
The other kids would run around the playground, and she would just watch, like she didn’t know how to have fun. Or wasn’t allowed. She’s always been a good kid. But scared. Always so scared. I’ve heard of the shit her father has done. He’s a sick bastard, and it’s fucked up.
I don’t actually want to give Volkov any information on the girl. But I doubt it’s up for negotiation.
There’s no other way out.
“It’ll be mailed to you,” I murmur.
Rune sets his glass down.
And then, just for confirmation, I ask, “So your alliance with Yuri Morozov and his daughter is off?”
Rune drains the last of his whiskey, with a shadow of a smile. “Freya Morozov is like a sister to me.”
? ? ?
author?s note:
spoiler for chapter 26 on my instagram @rhianovakauthor and more on my twitter @rhianovakauthor
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you can search “torren and freya” on spotify for the book playlist.
see you next chapter 3