Page 98 of Heirs of Havoc

A curse leaves Feliks’ mouth, his fingers digging into my skin as his thrusts become more frantic. He bounces my body off his cock like a fucking rocket, blasting off over and over again, and when he comes… it’s the loudest I’ve heard him.

The room comes back to me in a whoosh, pants and quick breaths filling the air.

Blinking, it’s hard to believe this all happened in the pastor’s office. But it wouldn’t be my boys if it was any other way.

A chuckle comes from my left, Lev with his cock still in his hand. “Welcome to the family, M&M. Now, let’s get to business."

Chapter Thirty-Six

Coming back to the city is a trip.

A constant flow of people. Loud industrial noises. Sirens wailing from near and far. But nothing is as intense as standing where I am right now.

“Dad?” My heart pounds as I make my way into the foyer of the Merlo Mansion. Big Sal's tight grip burns my arm as I pull away. They call him that for a reason, his bulky body is almost as big as his head. “Dad!”

Tobacco fills the air, my muddy sneakers a contrast to the shiny wood floors. My first time back in months and coming home feels as cold as ever. It’s quiet, this space foreign to me after spending so much time away. While The Murphy House has surrealist art, my dad is more of an impressionist collector. Monet and Rodin hang framed in rustic brass, offsetting beige walls. Sinatra flows down to where I stand, in the middle of two curved staircases, a classic chandelier above.

At first glance, this life in a mansion as big as the downtown mall looks like I live in a dream. Housekeepers tend to the thirty bedrooms. Gardeners ensure the thorns in the five rose gardens stay sharp. My mom never liked roses.

“Dad!” Big Sal still doesn't let me go, and it's surprising this man who I knew from birth handles me like the enemy. But he works for my father, so something tells me this isn’t his choice. “This is my home, Sal. Let me walk on my own.”

“Is it your home?” My father appears at the top of the staircase in an all-black suit. Tie, vest, everything. His black blazer hangs off his shoulder. “You haven’t treated it that way, daughter.” He makes a signal with his hand before my body flies to the foyer floor. My hands catch my fall, my knees against the cold wood. I sneer at Sal behind me before looking back at my father. He doesn’t look at all bothered by the way his goon treats his child. “To what do I owe this visit?” He leans against the bannister like I’m some ten o’clock meeting.

“I'm coming home.” Pushing to my feet, I straighten the dress the guys got for me. A vintage yellow piece with ties at the top of my shoulder. We didn’t have time for shoes. My dad’s gaze falls to my feet. “I’ve come to my senses. You were right. Everything I need is right at home.”

My father’s thick brows furrow as he stares at me the way he does when he’s assessing a potential move. Like every word he says and every step he makes is a calculated chess advance.? I’m usually another piece. But this time? This time, I’m a worthy competitor.

“You’ve proved you're my child, Emilia Merlo.” He paces the bannister, his finger tapping against his cheek. “Stubborn. Headstrong and a little unpredictable. Trustworthy? That’s another thing.” My father is delusional if he thinks he’s trustworthy. “Loyal? Well, that’s proven to be far from the case. So.” He stops, turning towards me. “How do I know this isn’t a scam?"

“After you shot up the university, how can I come back from that, Father?” Remembering my manners means not triggering my dad because when Martin Merlo gets triggered, well, a trigger gets pulled.

He chuckles. “Yes, that was effective, wasn’t it, daughter?” He’s being as passive-aggressive as I am, playing with me like another one of his fucked up plans.

“Get him alone.”

Their words spiral in my head, these from Vlad. And they’re right. If we’re going to get Dom back, I need my father in a vulnerable position. I need a one-on-one, away from his goons.

“Can we talk, Dad?” My shoulders drop. Looking around, his goons have their eyes on me, their guns on display. “Alone?”

“Are you alone?"

My palms sweat. “You think Federov and his crew would come to your headquarters? You have fifty men around here whenever you need them. They’re reckless, not stupid.”

Dad gives another signal before Sal approaches me. “He already searched me,” I remind him, taking a step back.

Sal looks over his shoulder. “She’s not carrying anything, boss.”

“Do it again, Sal.” My father’s voice only raises an octave, but Sal’s shoulders tense under his black suit. “The way we do the other girls.”

The other girls?

I want to back away, but I want to show my father I’m not pulling any punches. So I stand there. I stand there while my father watches Sal violate me. “I’m sorry, Emilia,” Sal mutters before he pulls my dress over my head. He leaves me in nothing but a pair of black panties and my bra.

“She’s clear,” Sal reports, stepping to the side before I thank him with a sarcastic smile.

“Seems she is,” Dad says, taking a moment like he didn’t believe I was. He glares into my eyes before he opens the two large oak doors behind him to his office. The one usually reserved for business meetings. “Come along.” He moves inside.

Climbing the stairs in nothing but my skippies exposes me to every one of his goons. I know this is for his safety, but I'm a prisoner in my home. I don’t need restraints to feel restricted.

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