Page 87 of Stolen By the Don

“You don’t get to be this casual with your life anymore,” he says. “Not when it belongs to me. And not when it carries something more.”

Belongs to him?I fold my arms, putting some distance between us because I know what his presence does to my rational thinking.

“I could’ve sworn that while we were in the hospital, you said you couldn’t make me do anything. And now I’m supposed to do everything you say because I’m your wife?” I shake my head, and the quiet laugh that follows carries no humor. “You contradict yourself every time, Roman Volkov.”

“Do you want to die, Isabella?” he asks.

I purse my lips for a moment, assessing his question. “You’re assuming I can’t hold my own. I can, Roman. I haven’t become an invalid just because I got knocked up. You can’t just take everything I’ve been through and sum it up like that.”

He’ll be no better than my father.

“Fine,” he exhales. “I won’t tell you that you did wrong by killing Igor. But I need you to trust me from now on. Trust me, I value your life more than anything.”

Idobelieve him. I saw the fear in his eyes, for a moment, when I ran out of the car toward him. I could hear it in his voice too—the desperation that rang in the air.

“I trust you,” I whisper. “As long as you trust me too.”

His lips peel back in a short laugh. “You’re something, Isabella. Your father was a fool for not seeing that. If he knew better, he wouldn’t have promised his company to some other idiot.”

Wait. “What?” My eyes widen in surprise. Or shock. I’m not sure which. I already know that Marco Ricci is a selfish, narcissistic man who was planning to use his only child as a bargaining tool, but…this?

“You said he promised it to someone else,” I repeat as my pulse thunders. “What did you mean by that? Did my father plan to give away everything I worked for?”

Roman sighs. “We both know he’s a bastard. Besides, nobody would take it at this point. Doing so would be aligning with a coward and becoming an enemy of the Volkov brotherhood.” His voice drops to an unforgiving depth. “They wouldn’t dare.”

I know.

I know what he’s trying to say, but my head is full of noise that I can’t escape. It seems like the more I discover about my father, the more despicable he turns out to be.

But this time, I can’t help but feel foolish. I should’ve known. Somehow, somewhere, I must’ve seen the signs and chose to ignore them for the sake of duty and responsibility.

“Don’t you dare.” Roman cups my chin, his grip not so gentle as he forces me to look at him. “You’re not going to beat yourself down because of a man like that,” he grunts. “He might’ve been your father, but everyone knows how fickle blood can be.”

“Your father didn’t sell you off, did he?” I question, my voice wavering. “He didn’t promise you one thing and then blindside you for his own gain.”

His eyes soften as his thumb caresses my chin. “That’s because I knew before I could even speak what my role was in life. You wanted something else, Isabella. And he knew it. I never had other plans. You did. It shouldn’t have been taken from you if he had no plans of honoring his promise.”

I hate my father.

I was indifferent before, but now I hate him. God—I do, with every fiber of my being. A tear rolls down my cheek, and Roman wipes it away. Another tear follows, and no matter how much I fight them back, they refuse to stop.

Roman gathers me into his arms, offering his shoulder as support. “You can let go,” he murmurs, stroking my hair. “It’s alright, my love. It’s alright.”

For the second time tonight, I cling to him like a lifeline, holding on tight until it doesn’t feel like my heart is about to burst.

“You look radiant this morning,Mrs. Volkov,” Polina greets as I walk down the stairs the next morning, smiling.

It escapes my gaze at first, and then I realize. “You’re smiling!” I point out as I make the rest of the stairs in a quick run. “I saw you smile, Polina!”

She stops and turns, all evidence of the smile tucked into her usual demeanor. “I don’t think I did, Mrs. Volkov. But if it makes you happy to think so, I’m glad.”

Itsk. “You’re hiding it. I know what I saw.”

Polina shrugs. “Mr. Volkov is waiting for you in the dining area. I believe he wants to have breakfast with you. Although…” She purses her lips. “I’d say it’s more lunch since it’s almost two pm. But he’s been at home all day?—”

“I get it.” I wave, cutting her off. “I get your point. I willeat.”

The smile flickers again. “That would be good. I’ll get going now.”

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