Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63391 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Let me make something clear, Kozlov,” I say, voice sharp. “I don’t want this marriage. I don’t want you. And I will do everything in my power to make this as unpleasant for you as possible until you give up this ridiculous charade.”
He studies me for a long moment, then smiles, not mockingly, not kindly, but like a man who has just been handed a rare opportunity to prove himself.
“Unfortunately for you,” he says, his voice dripping with velvet, “I like a challenge.”
His smile is the final straw.
I spin on my heel and storm out, my stilettos pounding the marble like war drums. Rage surges with every step. I don’t wait for permission or look back. I just walk, fast and focused, as though speed alone can outrun the weight of what’s been done to me.
I have to marry that smug, smirking bastard who thinks my fury is amusing. My plan shatters right in front of me. No matter what I do, I can already tell it will only challenge him more.
“Katya!” my father’s voice booms from behind me. “Stop.”
I don’t. Instead, I pick up my pace.
“Stop.” His tone sharpens, commanding and familiar. His footsteps close in, and when his hand clamps around my arm, I whirl on him, eyes blazing.
“What?” I snap.
His expression is tight, controlled. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he seethes.
“Home,” I say, my voice shaking. “Away from this insanity. I’m not marrying him.”
“Stop being dramatic.”
I bark out a bitter laugh. “Dramatic? You just gave me away like a party favor, and I’m being dramatic? Do you even care about me at all?”
He lets go of my arm but steps in front of me, blocking the hallway. “I didn’t give you away,” he argues, his eyes furious. “I secured your future.”
“You sold me,” I say softly, low enough that only he can hear.
“I made a deal,” he says. “One that will ensure your safety and protect the family.”
I step in closer, shaking with fury. “What about what I want, Papa? What about my choice? My dreams?”
“You think your dreams matter more than peace between two powerful Bratvas?”
“Yes!” I explode. “Because they’re mine. I wanted a life I built with my own hands. A gallery, a family, a man I chose, not one assigned to me like a school project!”
His jaw tightens. “You will have stability,” he says, sounding exasperated. “Wealth, respect, power. No little boy from a club is going to offer you more than that.”
“What about love?” I counter. “Where’s love in your little business transaction?”
“Love doesn’t matter in our world.”
“Maybe it didn’t for you,” I whisper. “But it does for me.”
His voice drops, cold and final. “This is not up for debate, Katya. You are my daughter,” he says, “and this is what your mother would have expected.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
He said the one thing he shouldn’t have. The one thing that guts me more than any of his cold logic.
“You don’t get to use her against me,” I say, my voice like broken glass.
“She understood duty,” he says, anger dripping from his voice. “She would expect you to do this.”
“You don’t know what she would’ve wanted for me,” I shoot back.
“She was loyal to this family,” he begins, but I cut him off.
“She was lonely,” I hiss, cutting him off. “And miserable. And married to a man who only ever saw her as a means to an end. It was probably a relief for her to die.”
His face freezes. For once, the weight of my words seems to hit him, and I hate that it hurts him. But I want to hurt him right now. I want him to feel the sting of helplessness, of having everything he wants stripped away and packaged as duty. His silence is answer enough.
But it doesn’t matter. The deal is done. The cage door is shut. And the key is in Isaac Kozlov’s hands. I step back from my father, suddenly exhausted.
“You don’t care what this does to me. You never have.”
“I care more than you know,” he says quietly. “Which is why I made the deal. You’ll understand in time.”
“No. I won’t.”
I turn away, too angry to cry, too shattered to stay composed. And that’s when I see Isaac. He’s leaning against the doorframe of his office, arms crossed, watching the scene like its theater.
There’s that damn smirk again, lazily amused, eyes gleaming with something dangerous and unreadable. My stomach turns. My fists clench.
His voice drips like molasses, slow, warm, cloyingly sweet.
“I’ll see you soon, wife.”
And he walks back into his office like he’s already won a game I didn’t know we were playing.
4
KATYA
The first shot of tequila lands harder than I expect. By the time the second arrives, my heels are abandoned under the table and I’m slumped against the paneled booth, letting out a long, weighted breath.