Page 163 of Filthy Promises

“I— I— I?—”

Suddenly, the door crashes open.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

48

VINCE

I’ve felt rage before. It comes in many different flavors.

Ice-cold rage makes you methodical.

White-hot rage makes you reckless.

Then there’s the dark, churning rage that sits in your gut for years, waiting, watching, wondering.

But this? This is something else entirely.

Seeing my father’s hand wrapped around Rowan’s throat ignites something brutal in me. It makes every other emotion I’ve ever felt seem shallow by comparison.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” I snarl again, already crossing the room in three long strides.

Andrei releases Rowan immediately, turning to face me with infuriating composure. Like he was just shaking her hand instead of choking the life out of her.

Rowan gasps for air and stumbles backward until she hits the wall. One hand protectively cradles her throat. The other goes to her stomach—to our child.

That small gesture nearly breaks me.

“Vincent,” my father says calmly. “This is a surprise.”

“Is it?” I step between him and Rowan, creating a physical barrier with my body. “Because I’m finding your presence here very fucking predictable.”

His eyes narrow at my tone. “Watch yourself, boy.”

“I told you she was off-limits. I made myself abundantly fucking clear.”

“And I made myself clear about what needs to happen.” He doesn’t back down—he never does. “The girl needs to understand her position.”

“Her position,” I repeat, my voice dangerously quiet, “is carrying my child. The mother of my heir. And you just put your hands on her throat.”

I glance back at Rowan, who’s watching this exchange with wide eyes, still breathing too fast, her face pale with shock. The red marks on her neck from my father’s fingers are already darkening into bruises.

My rage goes from black to incandescent.

“Arkady,” I call out, not taking my eyes off my father.

My lieutenant appears in the doorway, hand resting casually on the gun at his hip. “Boss?”

“Take Ms. St. Clair into the bedroom. Make sure she’s alright.”

Rowan shakes her head. “I don’t need?—”

“Now.”

Something in my voice must convince her, because she allows Arkady to guide her from the room, though she glances back at me with an expression I can’t quite read.

When they’re gone, I turn back to my father.

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