Page 48 of Stolen By the Don

“I’m sorry.” I shake my head, the words catching on a sob. “I have to go.”

I hurry away from the dining area, my steps picking up pace as I get closer to the stairs. I take them blindly as my vision blurs, fighting back tears as I race to my room. I kick the door open and slam it behind me before my knees give out, plunging me to the ground.

God.

I bite down on my knuckles as my shoulders shake. The sobs dig through my body as they force their way through my fingers. It feels like death. Like I crawled through mud, and it got under my skin and into my blood.

Bile creeps to my throat, and I taste it on my tongue—it’s desperation for an exit. I crawl to the bathroom, bracing myarms on the toilet seat as I throw up. It comes out over and over until my insides feel hollow and my limbs feel like jelly. Then I let go, curling into my arms as my clothes soak up the dampness of the tiles.

I don’t care anymore.

My father. His plans. Reaching out to him. I don’t care what he intends to do if his plan for Roman involves saving me from a hellhole.

If this ends, I know where I’ll be going.

Far away from everything I’ve known to begin a life of my own.

14

ROMAN

“What do you plan on doing with him?” Leo walks up to me, holding an obscure metal sculpture in his hand. “It’s clear he doesn’t know anything. Anything that can help us, at least.”

I turn slightly, looking at the man seated on a chair surrounded by glass objects and a broken guitar. The strings are closer to him, gleaming with spots of blood that match the marks around his wrists.

Mickey.

One of Marco’s minor handlers in charge of laundering some of the money he stole from my father, and money he got from using the connections he gained through the Volkov organization.

When I told Isabella I knew she had no idea where her father was, it was because I didn’t have to get feedback from Sergei. Billie Russell had already told me about the vintage shop and a couple others, so I had some men check them out.

If something happened, they were to inform me.

So when Isabella had Sergei stop here, I knew it was a hit point. She unknowingly sold herself out, and the others she visited.

“Any news from the others?” I ask.

Leo shakes his head. “Nothing positive. One of our men was shot, and the handler ran away, but the others had nothing. I’ve distributed the runaway’s description to various places, so we’ll know if he turns up.”

“Thank you,” I mutter.

He sighs and drags a hand across his mouth. “You could ask her.”

“She doesn’t know anything,” I say.

“She could be leading you on, Roman,” he argues, and I hear the frustration simmering in his voice. “She’s his daughter. Marco’s daughter.”

“I know,” I hiss through clenched teeth as a vein throbs at my temple.

He clicks his tongue. “And you think she’s in the dark about his whereabouts?” He scoffs. “You don’t trust her, do you? Remember what your plan was, Roman? To use her to lure him out.”

“I remember the plan,” I bite out, each word clipped and lethal. “I haven’t forgotten why I married her.”

Leo raises his hands slightly, defensive but still pushing. “Then act like it. Don’t start thinking with your dick.”

He knows I’ve slept with her. Of course he knows. We’ve been best friends for so long that hiding anything from him isimpossible. But his words make me feel weak and incapable of finishing what I started.

My hands ball into fists at my sides, blood roaring in my ears.

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