Page 7 of Stolen By the Don

Roman Volkov has no idea what he’s done. By the time he finds out he’s brought an enemy into his house, it’ll already be burned to the ground.

I’ll make sure nothing’s left. Not even the ashes.

3

ROMAN

I close the open document on my desk as Leo walks in, adjusting the cuff link on his shirt. Leaning back with both hands flat on the desk, I wait for him to sit before speaking.

“He’s still on the run?”

He nods. “Yup. I checked in with the men you had stationed at his safe houses and placed some pressure on the others in case one of them knew something.”

“I see,” I mutter as my fingers dance on the polished wood. “Do you think he’s left the country?”

Leo scoffs. “In a plane? I doubt it. We have eyes and ears at every airport and private tarmac. Unless he went through the water route as cargo, I bet he’s still in the country. He’s hiding, that’s all.”

A crooked smile spreads across my face as I shrug. “Then it’s time to flush him out. Time for phase two.” I lace my fingers together. “Tell the men I said they’re welcome to use any means. As long as it gets us the answers we need.”

“Okay,” he replies, but he makes no effort to leave.

“What is it?” I ask, purely because I know he has something to say and not out of curiosity or interest.

Leo sighs. “Marriage? I can see you using her to get to Marco Ricci, but you’re not serious about making her your wife, right?”

“Why not?” I ask.

He drags his chair forward and leans closer. “Because it sounds like madness to me, Roman. I can understand marrying for the sake of an alliance, but this is the daughter of the man who killed your father. It’s worse than signing a treaty with a former rival.”

My eyes lock on Leo’s and narrow. “You don’t have to remind me.”

I was the one who identified my father’s body.

I had to find out who killed him, because I couldn’t believe he’d die in a car accident that was clearly staged.Ihad the bloodied knuckles that brought out the truth from his driver—that he’d been paid by Marco Ricci, our consigliere, to sabotage the car.

And then I continued digging, only to find out that Marco Ricci wasn’t the only culprit. Men my father trusted in the brotherhood had conspired to take him out. Then, they tried to take out his son too.

“I know whose daughter she is.” My voice is rough, and I force the words through clenched teeth. “I also know Marco Ricci is a dead man when I find him.”

Before then, I intend to make him experience the worst pain possible.

His only daughter, only child—she is mine. And any child that comes from her is mine.

“I’m ending his lineage,” I say. “When I watch the life drain from his eyes, I want him to know that he’ll never get the chance to pass down his traitorous blood to anyone else.”

Leo is silent for a minute, then exhales loudly. “Remind me never to get on your bad side, Roman.”

What was it Isabella called me again? A monster? While she offered to spare my life if I let her go…dressed in her wedding dress.

I close my eyes with a quiet sigh, and the image of Isabella, defiant and angry, her chest heaving as she stood in front of my desk, slips into my head. She looked even better than she did standing next to her fiancé.

The feigned meekness of loyalty in her eyes was gone, replaced by a fire. My fingers curl as I imagine what it would’ve been like if I’d taken that heat in my hand and fanned it.

If I would have spread my hand across her face, my thumb tracing the outline of her full, rosy lips, and slipped it in, watching her mouth take me. It would’ve flamed the column of her throat and settled at the nape, where her pulse beat wildly.

Her dress.

It would’ve burned the fabric, plunging the neckline lower until she had nothing on.

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