Page 20 of Bratva Prince
Ivan
Free?
What does that mean?
“Are you not free now?” I asked, confused by her statement. Maybe she meant it in a metaphorical sense, but I wanted to know what was holding her back. She didn’t answer, so I rephrased. “Who is keeping you trapped?”
Without looking at me, she whispered, “My father.”
There were mixed emotions in that word. Fear. Anger. Resentment. I’d known it all too well with my own piece of shit father. He tortured my brothers and me, until we’d finally had enough and Dimitry ended his life, and his torturous reign over us. Misha took over the family business, and I’ve never regretted the decision for one minute.
“What does your father do?” I asked, treading lightly. If he abused her—whether it was physical, mental, or worse—the topic needs to be handled with subtlety and finesse.
She let out a dry laugh and glanced at me over her shoulder. “Oh, man. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
“Try the beginning,” I offered.
She let out a long sigh and turned around to face me. “My home life is no treat. I’m the daughter of a politician. Everyone sees a smiling girl who’s adored by her family, but if they knew the truth…” Her voice cracked and she trailed off, taking a deep breath. “If people only knew how terrible of a person my father is.”
Her voice, her words—she sounded tired. Exhausted from dealing with the bullshit. Whatever truth she spoke of it sounded much darker than she let on.
“My mother is an alcoholic. She drinks constantly to deal with my father. He doesn’t care either way if any of us are happy, so long as he can excel at hisbusiness.”
A pang of guilt ran through me at the way she spat the word. I, myself, put business above all else—all except for my family. Therein lies the difference between her father and me.
“Does he have control over your life?” I asked, taking a guess as to where she was going.
“Does he!” she shouted. “I had to beg him to let me go to college. To get an apartment. I’m a fucking 22-year-old woman! I shouldn’t have to beg my father for anything. He’s the reason I never had many friends or boyfriends. Hell, I’ve only really had one boyfriend and you saw how that turned out. The only guy I ever slept with because I was too afraid of what my father would do if he found out.”
Once she started, she didn’t stop. It was like years of resentment she’d held back had finally been released, and nothing could stop it now. But I listened because that’s what she needed me to do.
“Not that it matters,” she said, her voice breaking. She took in a quaky breath and explained. “My father has arranged the perfect suitor for my marriage. And by suitor, I mean the man who has the most promise to further his career. Isn’t that funny? It’s like something out of the middle ages. He might as well trade me for the biggest ox!”
My fists clenched at the thought of something so barbaric. To use your own child for personal gain was sickening. My own father had done that to me, and I understood the outrage.
“Have you even met the man?” I asked, unsure what else to say. I knew what I wanted to say, but I’m sure she’d felt those thoughts enough on her own and didn’t need me to make her feel worse.
“No. I’m supposed to marry some guy named Dominik who works with my father. That’s all I know. Pathetic, isn’t it?”
That name shot through me, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.
There was no way it was the same Dominik. Right? It couldn’t be. Well, if it was then Willow wouldn’t need to worry about their marriage anymore. But that would mean something else… Something I wasn’t ready to come to terms with.
She stared into the night, watching the moonlight on the surface of the water. Such a delicate creature with a ferocity I’d seen in no other. She was a fighter, that I could tell. And yet, she was so defeated. I couldn’t let her feel like that. Something inside me wouldn’t allow it.
Without thinking, I tossed my shoes onto the sand and peeled off my shirt.
“What are you doing?” she asked, partially shielding her eyes—but I tossed the shirt in the pile with my shoes, unbuttoning my pants and throwing them to the side, leaving me in only my boxers.
“What does it look like? I’m going swimming.”
Without easing my way in, I plunged into the sea, allowing the cool water to envelop my body like a refreshing embrace. When I emerged, my hair was stuck to my face and I swiped it away, casting Willow a coy smile.
“Come on,” I called out. Mimicking her words from earlier, I said, “It feels good. You should come in. Are you too much of a wimp?”
She narrowed her eyes, unable to hide the smirk that lingered on her luscious lips. Cocking one eyebrow, she said, “Are you challenging me, Mr. Viking?”
I’m not sure how that name stuck with me, but I didn’t mind it. Vikings were badass, and to be referred to as such made me feel invincible. Though, she’d meant it in a teasing manner, so I pretended to be offended by the term of endearment so she would continue saying it. But that was my own little secret.
