Page 11 of Crowned

“You won’t find her,” the old woman tells us. “If she has made a fool of you once, she will make a fool of you again. Lilia will slip through your fingers like sand, and you will be left with nothing. Whatever you did to Lilia, she probably deserves your diamonds.”

Anger races through me as I glare down at Lilia’sbabushka, and I see Lilia herself gazing back at me. Defiant. Beautiful. Proud.

My diamonds? Lilia deserves my diamonds? They’remyfucking diamonds. She had her victory, but I’ll die before I let that woman take everything from me.

Kirill’s phone buzzes and he reads the message that he’s just received. “It’s Khaos. Aran Brazhensky is in Trieste.”

Elyah pushes his hands through his hair, exclaiming, “Are you fucking kidding me? Lilia was few hundred miles from us all along?”

Trieste. Northeastern Italy. We’ve traveled halfway around the world looking for Lilia while she’s only taken a drive down the road.

Lilia’sbabushkasuddenly looks very small and scared sitting in her chair at her worn kitchen table. I can’t wait to see Lilia looking at me just like that.

Caught.

In my trap.

I lean over the kitchen table and place my hands on the wood. “I guess that means we’re going back to Italy. If you talk to yourvnuchkabefore we do, please give her our regards, and tell her that we will see her soon.”

Quick as a snake, the old woman raises her hand and strikes me across the face. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t even sting. There’s little strength in her withered limbs, but I feel Lilia’s disgust behind it. Lilia’s hatred for me. I close my eyes for a moment, my jaw clenching. Tense silence fills the room.

I turn back to the old woman and open my eyes. “Lilia Aranova will pay for that, too.”

3

Lilia

My heartbeat thunders in my ears. All my muscles are locked tight with fear as my nerve endings screamdanger.

The muscular, suited man contemplates me from the other side of my hotel room from beneath hard, half-lidded eyes. Though his body is relaxed back in an armchair, anger radiates from every pore, from his hands gripping the armrests to the set of his jaw. This man hates me from the top of my head right down to my toes. He loathes the air I breathe and the ground I walk on. From this moment to my last, he wishes me nothing but suffering.

Though I’m frozen to the spot, I realize my hand is cupping my belly. I was overcome with dizziness and nausea when I stood up too quickly from a café table. The dizziness turned to horror as I realized my period is four weeks late. I purchased a pregnancy test on my way home and it’s burning a hole in my handbag right now. Am I carrying the child of aPakhanor his cruelest enforcer who has wanted me dead for the last two years?

Maybe.

Possibly.

Oh, God, what if I am?

The man in the armchair tilts his head to the side, and one clear thought blares in my mind. He can’t know I might be pregnant. It’s too dangerous for the child.

I let my hand fall away, surprised at how strong the feelings are to protect my maybe-baby.

“Nothing to say to me, Lilia?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. If I go to pieces now, the next thing I know, I’ll be on a plane with this man’s hand manacle-tight around my wrist. Fear is what he wants. I can see him hunting for it in my face, those cruel eyes narrowed. Fear is how he has always controlled me.

I take another deep breath and open my mouth to greet him. “Hello, Dad. How are you?”

Aran Brazhensky smirks at my faux-casual tone. He’s not fooled even one tiny bit. His two tattooed goons stand on either side of me, ready to grab me in case I lunge for the door. One of them cracks his knuckles menacingly, malice glinting in his eyes as if he really hopes I try.

“You never call, you never write. I’m starting to think you don’t love me anymore.” Dad settles comfortably back in his seat, his arms along the armrests, one long leg crossed over the other. The cut of his suit is tailored and expensive and his leather shoes gleam. I’m reminded of another proud, smirking Russian man who enjoys fine suits and tormenting women. For a few seconds before my eyes focused on Dad, I thought it was Konstantin sitting in the armchair, and Elyah and Kirill were flanking me. It’s not much of a relief to find that it’s Dad instead. If anything, my heart sank even further. Dad kept me prisoner for years through marriage and emotional blackmail. Konstantin only managed a few days.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” I ask with a shrug, glancing toward the window. I’m four floors up and the window doesn’t open. There’s no way out of here except through the door behind me.

Dad’s eyes flash. “Don’t bother looking for an escape. You should never have run. It was only a matter of time before I found you.”

“How did you find me?”

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