25. Chapter Twenty-Five
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
V iktor
That fucking Italian whore reached for a letter opener.
All I knew was that my wife was being threatened, and I wouldn’t stand for it. A surge of primal anger coursed through me, my hand snapping out instinctively, wrapping around Isabella’s throat.
There was a distant, gurgling noise, but the haze of rage clouding my mind would not allow me to control my impulses.
“Viktor. Thank you, but I can fight my own battles.”
Tiffany’s soft lull of humor pulled me back from the dark void I had descended into.
I regained my focus and realized the woman before me, my mother’s doppleganger, was gasping for air. Her lips were turning an alarming shade of blue.
Growling, I released my grip, letting her crumple in a heap at my feet, and spat on her. She coughed and struggled to catch her breath.
My father rushed past me, crouching by Isabella’s side with concern. “I’ll have someone escort you home and deal with this situation.”
“The Don will hear about this,” she croaked, her voice weakened but defiant, her threat lingering in the tense atmosphere like a storm on the horizon.
My godfather and a guard came to her aid, helped her to her feet, and promptly escorted her out of the room. My father’s seething anger was palpable as he rose to his full, imposing height.
“Follow me,” he barked, before spinning on his heel and striding out of the room.
Motioning for Tiffany to stay put, I trailed behind my father, my steps measured, playing the role of the dutiful son. We entered his office, and he slammed the door shut behind us.
“You want to end up like Alexie, is that it, boy?” he sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. He then marched to his desk and sat down. I could see him writing out a large check, probably to pay the Italian woman off, in hopes of appeasing her.
“Besides disrespecting my wife, Isabella moved to stab her.”
“You need to divorce that woman,” he insisted, his voice unyielding. “The Italian girl will forgive this and sweep it under the rug. Then we can move on with our business.”
“Tiffany is probably already pregnant.”
My father’s face contorted in disbelief as he glared up at me. “There’s no fucking way in hell you got that suka pregnant.”
I said nothing. I didn’t need to.
He got on his feet and leaned over the desk. “You will divorce her, or I will kill her!” he roared.
My gun was in my hand without a moment’s hesitation. I pressed it to my father’s head. “Try it, and I’ll seize your empire right now, old man,” I retorted, my voice cold and unwavering.
A tense silence enveloped the office as we locked gazes, neither of us willing to yield. Then, to my astonishment, he broke into laughter, a sinister and unexpected response.
“You think I’m joking?” I seethed.
He cleared his throat and settled back into his chair. “If this woman is the reason you are less of a sukin syn, then I’m grateful to her.” He exhaled heavily. “But I’d better see a baby in less than a year, or that suka is dead. Wife or not.”
The weight of his ultimatum pressed down on me like a vice. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, before I had the chance to fully embrace the complex emotions that were stirring within me.
Did I dare admit it to myself?
Love?
No. It was too soon, too improbable. I barely knew the woman.
Yet, something about her ignited a fire within me that I couldn’t extinguish.
“Fine,” I finally agreed, resigned to the dangerous path we were embarking on.
I didn’t want to deal with my father any longer. He must’ve felt the same way, because his face twisted like he was in pain. “You’re dismissed.”
My father’s words repeated in my head as I returned to the dining room. Tiffany was alone. I reached for the bottle of vodka my father had been drinking out of all night.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Tiffany whispered.
It was so faint I didn’t think I heard her at first.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Aren’t you driving back? I don’t want you too drunk to drive.”
I laughed. “I’m Russian, milyy . You think a few shots of vodka would mess with my driving skills?”
The way her eyes flicked between both me and the bottle was enough to make me put it back. Gut instinct and all.
I wrapped my arm around her. “Let’s get out of here, wife.”
She smiled up at me. “Certainly, husband.”
We headed out the front door and into the car. Once off the estate, Tiffany asked the question I knew was coming.
“What did your father say?”
“We need to do everything in our power to get you pregnant.”
Shocked, she asked, “Why?”
“If we don’t, he’s going to kill you.”
“What if he dies first?”
“My father is as healthy as an ox.”
“You never know nowadays. People get sick out of the blue.” Tiffany placed her hand on top of mine on the gear shift. “He’s older.”
Her warmth was everything.
She was everything.
Every single thought.
Every single move.
Her very presence brought me to life.
If others knew the power she wielded over me, it could destroy everything. The Bratva weren’t known for emotional connections to women. We often killed our mothers, our spouses, our mistresses; almost anyone who held two X chromosomes. Connections were a weakness that could be used against you.
Alexie was a perfect example of this.
No. The love I felt for Tiffany couldn’t be real. And when it came down to it, I wouldn’t hesitate to do what I must to keep the Bratva safe.