Page 50 of Revenge

“I’m busy, Fiona. Go home.”

“I’m tired of the way you’re treating me. We’re married. This shit with not coming home or working late has to stop. I need you home. I can’t do this alone.” She yells. I ignore her. “I swear if you don’t change your tune, I’ll disappear,” I look at her. “And you will never meet your daughter.”

“I don’t do threats.” I stand and walk toward her but stop.

“What are you going to do? Are you going to hit me? Are you going to hurt your daughter?” She laughs. I take another step toward her.

“Viktor,” I hear Oliver call.

“What?” I’ve stopped inches from Fiona.

“It’s not worth it,” he says, entering the office.

“Are you going to listen to your pathetic bastard brother?” she says mockingly.

I grab her by the neck, barely holding my temper under control.

“Let her go,” Oliver says.

“Get the fuck out, Fiona,” I hiss, letting her go. I have to remind myself that she’s carrying my daughter. I might not give a fuck about her, but I do care about my baby.

“This isn’t over. You will come home tonight, or else.” There’s that threat again.

“Fiona…”

I’m about to grab her arm, but Oliver gets between us. “She’s trying to get in your head,” he states calmly.

She leaves, laughing.

I walk to the minibar and pour a drink. Anything to calm the rage brewing inside of me.

“This is wrong. She shouldn’t be carrying my daughter,” I mutter to myself.

“Viktor—”

“Why are you here?” I interrupt.

“Letting you know everything at Eros is ready. In the event that a war breaks out with the Irish, everything is in place. We kept it small. All men recruited by Angus.”

“Good. Did you ever get in touch with Marco?” It’s been bugging me that Oliver seems distracted as of late. It’s not like him.

“No. Why?”

“Why do I have to ask you if you did? Are you keeping something from me?”

He stays quiet and looks away.

“Oliver—”

“I’m not keeping anything from you. Just a lot on my mind.”

I see a trace of something not quite right in him.

“You’re my brother. I won’t tolerate you lying to me.” I take several steps toward him, but we’re interrupted as his cell rings. A mixture of panic and fear spreads across his face.

“Fuck. I have to take this.” He turns to leave.

“Oliver, I’m not done.” I go to grab his arm.

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