Page 65 of Ruthless Reign

I’m in a terrible mood after I get off the phone with my sister, but I don’t allow myself to wallow. There’s no time for that anyhow. Anatoly will be here to pick me up soon, and I need to appear as normal as possible.

I descend the stairs, retrieving my coat and clutch from the main-floor closet. Usually, Anatoly waits for me outside in his car, but when I glance out the front window, I can see his Jag parked to the side.

Strange.

Low voices spill from my father’s study, and I turn, walking towards the closed door. As I approach, something about their conversation piques my interest.

“There’s no more money until after the wedding. It’s clearly laid out in the contract.” Anatoly’s voice is low and menacing, but it seeps under the door like poison.

Not daring to breathe, I press my ear against the door.

“With the wedding so soon, what does it matter? We’ll be family in no time,” my father points out. “It’s just that … I’m in a spot of trouble with the yakuza. You know how heated their poker games can get.”

“That’s your problem, not mine.”

“I know I drink too much; it’s my weakness. But these guys are serious. I only have a week to pay them back, or I’ll lose an eye. How would it look for me to walk Liza down the aisle with an eyepatch?”

“Terrible.” Anatoly laughs. “Maybe you should have thought about that earlier. Tsk tsk, Boris, you’re a pathetic man, but your sins aren’t my problem.”

Dread seeps into my chest. I'm not surprised by Anatoly’s cruel dismissal of my father, but it still chills me to the bone that the man who wants to marry me doesn't care a bit about my family's safety. That alone should set off alarm bells in my father’s head, imagining his daughter married to such a man, but that's clearly not his first instinct.

Still, I know this wedding isn't going to happen. Either I’ll have to pay my father's gambling debts using my investment money, or I'll have to ask for help.

Roman’s face materializes in my mind, and with a calm surety, I know it’s him I’d call to protect my father. To protect me.

Goosebumps rise on my skin at the realization. No one makes me feel like he does—warm, safe, and utterly protected. Even though I pushed him away, I know he’d be there if I needed him.

I draw a deep, shaky breath because, right now, I need to concentrate on what’s happening on the other side of the door.

“But with the wedding so soon…” My father's voice carries a tone of desperation that makes my heart clench. Even though he’s deeply flawed and selfish, at the end of the day, I don’t want to see him hurt.

“Until it’s official, we don’t have a binding agreement. Unless … you find a way to sweeten the deal for me.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to, whatever you want.”

My stomach churns with disgust to see how low my father has stooped, willing to hand Anatoly whatever he desires on a silver platter. The implication of “anything” sends a chill through me.

There’s rustling inside the room, like Anatoly is rising from a chair. His voice drops so low that I can’t hear a word, no matter how hard I press my ear to the door.

Shit. What could they be saying?

A few minutes later, their voices go back to normal.

My father suggests a shot of vodka in celebration.

“Haven’t you learned your lesson, you idiot?” Anatoly laughs, and it has a cruel edge.

That’s my cue to back up.

I quietly shuffle towards the staircase as if I’d just come down. When the door to my father’s study swings open, I step off the last stair and feign surprise at finding my fiancé in the hallway. “I didn’t realize you were here,” I say to Anatoly.

“I came early. Took the opportunity to visit with your father.”

My father and Anatoly exchange a look I can't quite read.

“Very well. I’m ready to go.” I try to hide the quiver in my voice after everything I overheard.

His eyes rake over me, sharp and calculating, with an underlying heat that makes my skin burn. He looks at me like I’m a pretty object he’s happy to have acquired, and truthfully, that’s exactly what I am to him.

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