Page 16 of Velvet Chains
Now I remember where I’ve seen him before. When Misha first brought me Laura’s file, I remember flipping through the pages, my eyes scanning over the details of her life. Her mother’s death, the fire that destroyed their family business, the con man Dave, who left her with nothing but debts and broken promises.
And there, buried in the midst of all that tragedy, was a picture of George Thompson.
Laura’s father.
The man who was supposed to protect her, to love her unconditionally. But even in that grainy, black-and-white photo, I could see the coldness in his eyes, the cruelty lurking behind his smile.
“What I don’t know is why you’re here, pretending to be a loving father,” I say.
George’s smile falters, a flicker of anger passing over his features before he smooths it away. “I’m here to support my daughter on her special day, of course. What kind of father would I be if I missed her wedding?”
He reaches for Laura’s hand, his fingers brushing over her skin in a way that makes her flinch. She jerks her hand back, taking a step closer to me, her body tense and coiled like a spring.
“Dad… I think you’d better go,” she says, taking a small step back, her body angling slightly away from her father as if seeking distance.
George’s eyes narrow, a calculating gleam in his gaze as he glances between Laura and me. “You know, Laura, you should be grateful that someone like Victor even looked twice at you.”
What the fuck?
I scoff, shaking my head.
He turns to me, speaking louder now, as if seeking my approval.
“She’s just like her mother, not too bright. If it weren’t for you, her bookstore would be gone, burned to the ground. She’s lucky to have caught your eye.”
Laura flinches, her shoulders hunching as if each word is a physical blow. She wraps her arms around herself, her fingers digging into her skin.
“Please, Dad,” she tries again; a tear flickers in her eye. She clenches her jaw tight. “Just go. We can talk another time.”
But George isn’t listening. He steps closer to Laura, his face twisting into a sneer. “Ungrateful, that’s what you are. After all I’ve done for you, this is how you treat me? You think you’re too good for your own father now that you’ve snagged a rich husband?”
I feel my blood boil, the rage coursing through my veins like molten lava. My hands itch to wrap around his throat, to squeeze until his face turns purple and his eyes bulge out of their sockets.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m moving. My fist connects with George’s jaw, a sickening crack echoing through the room. He staggers back, his eyes wide with shock and pain as he clutches his face.
The room falls silent, everyone staring at us in stunned disbelief. Laura’s hand flies to her mouth, a small gasp escaping her lips.
George’s face turns an ugly shade of red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You… You hit me,” he says incredulously, as if he can’t quite believe it. “You broke my fucking jaw!”
I shrug, a humorless smile tugging at my lips. “Consider it a warning. Next time, I won’t be so gentle.”
George stares at me as if I have six penises, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. “You can’t do that!” he screeches, his voice high and thin.
“I just did,” I say, stepping in front of Laura to shield her from his view.
Laura’s hand finds mine, her fingers trembling as they lace through my own. I give her a reassuring squeeze, a silent promise that she’s not alone.
“Victor, please,” she says softly, pleading. “Let’s just go. He’s not worth it.”
I look back at her, seeing the exhaustion and pain etched into every line of her face. My heart clenches.
I step forward, using my height to loom over him. “Now, you listen, suka. Laura is my wife now. She’s a Morozova. And in this family, we protect our own.”
I step in closer, my voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “If I ever hear you speak about her like that again, if you ever disrespect her in any way… Well, let’s just say the Bratva has ways of dealing with men like you.”
George swallows hard, fear flickering in his eyes. He knows I’m not bluffing, knows that I have the power and the resources to make good on my threat.
“Apologize to my wife. Now.”
