Page 63 of Bratva Prince
But not anymore.
No, this new me refused to back down.
“Until he returns,” my father said, taking a sip of his bourbon. “You will not be leaving this house. You will remain here, in your room, until you are to be married. Do I make myself clear?”
Yes, father. I understand, father.That cowering response was what he’d expected, but to his surprise, mine was a bit more sarcastic than he cared for.
“Then, you’ll be waiting a long time,” I answered.
He narrowed his eyes at me and came closer, standing only a foot away. “What?” Such a simple word, yet it held so much malice and confusion. He knew that I knew something he didn’t. That I held a piece of information in my grasp, believing me to be reluctant to give it up.
But he was wrong. I was more than willing to share because it brought me great satisfaction to know that my father wouldn’t be able to marry me off to his precious Dominik anymore.
“Dominik is dead,” I answered flatly, my arms crossed as I leaned back in the chair. A smirk curled at my lips, and I quirked an eyebrow, challenging the man I’d been waiting to destroy for years.
My father turned sharply to face me, his eyes encased in fury. “What did you say?” His tone was threatening, but I simply smirked and repeated myself.
“He’s dead. Ivan killed him. Shot him between the eyes. That’s what happens when you mess with a Koslov,” I answered with a shrug, as if I were unaffected by the news.
He balked back, hitting the desk with the back of his legs and catching himself from stumbling. “What do you know about Ivan Koslov? You were on that island together for a while, so tell me. What promises did that dirty bratva mudak make? Did he tell you he’d whisk you away so you can run off together? That he’d save you from your tyrant father?”
Forcing a chuckle to taunt me, he glared, waiting for me to break.
I shook my head, leaning forward to show that my father didn’t instill the fear in me he used to. Was I still terrified? I was. God, did I hate to admit it, but I would always be scared of my father. The difference now was that I refused to let it control me, to let it dictate my life.
And he knew that. I could tell he did by the twitch in his left eye as he watched my defiance, my rebellion against him.
“Answer me!” he shouted, veins throbbing in his forehead as his face turned a bright red. He was so close to my face when he shouted that pieces of spit flew from his mouth and landed on my cheek.
I swiped it away and leaned closer. “Ivan is more of a man than you could ever hope to be. He doesn’t need to make empty promises. He’s more than that.”
My father straightened his back and turned away, pacing the room. He let out another laugh, darker than before. Where his previous laughter held a hint of wariness, his present laughter was tainted with a malign intention. An omen for what was to come.
He circled back to me and stopped in front of me. His arm swung out, and he backhanded me, slapping my face hard. I cried out from the pain, gripping where my face stung.
“If you ever question my authority again, just remember that pain. I promise you; it will be nothing compared to what I’d do a second time.”
Tears burned my eyes, and I stood from my seat, facing off with the man who’d stripped every bit of happiness in my life. “Fuck you!” I spat at him and it landed on his face.
He swiped it away, staring at his hand in disbelief before he smacked me again, this time hard enough to knock me to the hardwood floor.
My nausea returned with a vengeance, and I felt seconds away from puking on the rug by his desk. But I wouldn’t allow myself to be weak in front of him, so I swallowed my bile and stood again.
“What a big man you are, to beat on a woman who’s much smaller than you.”
He smiled; a malevolent expression contorted on his face. “You think this is bad?” He grabbed me by the hair, jerking me forward to scream into my ear. “You haven’t evenbegunto see what I’m capable of.”
I was tossed to the floor, hitting my side against the steel legs of the chair. Before I could shuffle to my feet, he kicked me in the leg, then stomped on my foot, holding it in place to keep me from moving, crushing my toes.
“If you don’t want to experience more pain, I’d suggest you be silent and go to your room like a good girl.”
He released his boot and my feet curled in so I could massage my throbbing toes. I managed to pull myself up, using the chair for support. My entire leg was pounding; the pain was radiating through my body every time it throbbed. But I gritted my teeth and limped toward my father.
His back was turned as he poured himself another glass, and I grabbed the candle holder that sat on the desk, swinging it to his head.
“Fuck!” he screamed out, grabbing at his head. He jerked toward me, his eyes seething with rage. “You’ll regret that,” he growled, swinging his fist. The impact as it hammered into my cheek made me see stars, and my vision was blurry for a moment.
I fell to the ground, hitting the back of my head against the corner of the table on the way down.
