Page 11 of Forced Bratva Wife

“What?” Her brow crinkled into a hard frown, and she shook her head. “This has to do with my dad? Wait, what? I don’t…I’m going to college on a scholarship. My dad didn’t want me to go. I literally just moved out a few months ago.”

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” I scoffed at her, lowering my head to look down at her from beneath my brows. “Because I don’t. I’m sure you just didn’t think that skimming from the Vadims would catch up to you. Just like your father didn’t.”

“Vadims? I don’t—look, I have no clue what you’re talking about. Who the hell are the Vadims?” She pulled her chin back to gesture at me. “You? Okay. I’m telling you, I don’t know what’s going on. All I wanted was to get out of that house. To get as far away from…I-I don’t have anything to do with this.”

Nagging doubt prickled up my spine, and I studied her. Parker was either an incredibly good actress, or she wasn’t in on her father’s dealings. He still just pawned her off to me, knowing full well that she would be in way over her head. Hmm…

But I needed to be sure.

“You sure about that? Are you saying that you had no clue about gambling? About skimming money from his payout to the largest branch of the Russian mafia in Chicago? About getting the bright idea to sell you off as payment to me so I wouldn’t kill him for stealing my money?”

The color left Parker’s face, and she stumbled back down onto the bed with a hard thump. She looked like she might be sick, and her breathing kicked up, rushing in and out of her too fast.

“He…He…” Her stare fell to the ground, and Parker put a hand to her mouth. “Sold me. To the mob.”

A sob flooded out from behind her fingers. “Of course he did. Right. It makes total sense. I mean, why not? He’d already made living with him a nightmare. Why not have someone else take care of all the dirty work for him?”

Sitting on the bed, trembling, Parker wouldn’t look up at me, and her tears had mingled with an angry laugh. It all turned my blood cold. It was also clear that she had no idea what her father was playing at.

“A nightmare?” I cocked a brow at her, and when Parker glanced up, there was something that flickered behind her green stare. What was that?

Pink colored her cheeks ever so slightly, so embarrassment was on the table. But her shoulders slumped in on themselves, and Parker gripped her bicep, unknowingly stroking her thumb across a particular spot.

That wasn’t just being embarrassed or shy. That was shielding behavior. I’d learned all about it when I tried that psychiatrist for like a whole two seconds. And she still hadn’t answered me.

“Did he hit you?”

I kept my tone flat, matching it with an impassive expression even though the thought was making the fire in my veins tick up another notch.

Parker glared, suddenly pulled out of her thoughts. “What do you care? You just kidnapped me and had your thugs knock me out.”

That was clearly a yes.

My nerves hummed, and I needed something to do with the locked-up energy that was trying to break free. Punch something. Drink. Drink and then punch something, maybe someone. Or you know, I could…

I flicked my eyes back to Parker sitting there on that bed. She was angry, the crinkle in her forehead and the clenching of her jaw clear proof. She was also eyeing me up and down. I noticed how she’d tracked my tattoos back at her place, and she was doing it again, looking for what more she could see past my suit. It gave me ideas.

Bad ideas.

Stepping forward without much thought beforehand, I towered over Parker. My leg hit the inside of her knee, and I glanced down. Moving her foot to the side with my own, I made more space for myself between Parker’s legs.

As she looked up at me, having to lean back precariously to do so, Parker’s lips parted. Nothing much but enough to allow me to hear her shaky breaths. Squeezing my hands into fists for a moment, I relaxed one only to use it to push back a stray copper curl, tucking it behind Parker’s ear.

She stiffened at the contact, drawing her elbow back. Her father fucking abused her. I should’ve ended the fucker on sight. Touching her, laying even one finger on Parker’s… I bit back a growl.

When I didn’t pull back, Parker made her own fist—little and dainty compared to mine—and I chuckled.

“You gonna swing, sweetheart?” I smirked. “Make sure you aim right here.”

Touching Parker’s jaw on the side and patting it with just two fingers, I felt her flinch.

“It’ll do the most damage with me up this close. But it’ll definitely hurt your hand.” I slowly raked my gaze down her body, gesturing to her fist with a nod. “I’d hate for you to break anything.”

Her stare went to the floor before she swallowed hard and returned it to me with a refocused glare. “I’m aware of how to do the most damage to a person. I’m about to be a doctor.”

Cocking a half-grin and raising my brows, I leaned closer, whispering into her ear. “You like patching up cuts and bruises? Would you like me under your care? A chance to see where these tattoos go?”

Parker’s entire body shivered, and I noticed her pull her knees closer together despite how she was trying to hide it. I could practically smell the arousal on her. I could just toss her back. I could spread those legs and—

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