Page 31 of Gilded Kisses

“And you want Constantine blood as payment. You always wanted what belonged to me.”

My father is stating a fact, not asking.

“Money or blood. Your choice Constantine. Give me Aster or give me the keys to the Constantine fortune.”

What the hell is my father into?

There’s a gurgle followed by a heavy cough.

Mom.

My hand moves to my blade, but it’s not where I normally keep it on my waist. Santi took it back at Club Genesis. Shit.

“I can practically hear your gears turning. Don’t even think about it. Hold tight, Aster. Are you in a safe place?”

Harlon must sense my urge to go to my mother. She is a lot of things but still my mom.

“It doesn’t matter. They are hurting her.” I answer in a harsh whisper through the speaker. “Safe? No. I have a wall at my back and not much else.

Santi releases a string of Spanish profanity. A few I know by heart and the new ones I file away.

“Stay where you are at. We’re on our way.”

My father’s rough baritone fills the silence. “That filth is damaged goods. I had men I considered friends who wanted what was mine, too. I fucked her to ruin me. I had plans on using her to marry into the Volkov family. But you can have her. But not my empire.”

My father pauses. Probably visualizing passing me off.

“She’s yours, but I want you out of my territory for good. Every single one of you out and you never come back, Romanov. Especially if you find her virginity intact.”

Cold steel drives into my heart. I knew he resented me. Hated me even, but hearing it again reopens old wounds that never fully healed.

A lumbering shadow passes in front of the archway. I plaster myself tighter against the wall. Romanov? As in from Genesis?Nah. My head scrambles to piece all this together.

Then again, how many mobsters named Romanov are there in Chicago?

“I don’t want a whore. But my boy needs a broodmare, and the hips he’s seen on her will do well in carrying Romanov blood.”

My eyes widen, and it takes a moment for my brain to register the words. Bile rises in the back of my throat for several reasons I don’t have time to list out.

The silence becomes a coffin around me as my mind races for a plan to save my mother without getting us both killed. Screw my father. I know my brothers look down on me as the cute little pixie they have to protect, but I really could use six guys on my side right now.

A stiff hand clenches around my arm, and I am hauled out of the shadows. Asshole number one with grabby hands throws me through the living room’s archway and I land on my knees.

Hard.

Every bone in my body screams in protest, and I tumble awkwardly before letting the momentum take over. I roll, turn, and get my footing before I launch to my feet.

I get halfway up before I am shoved back down by another set of hands on my shoulders. I turn my chin to find familiar brown eyes and a too-small leather vest stretched over a crisp white shirt.

“Joseph,” I seethe, my voice rough with disbelief.

He cants his head, causing dark hair to fall over his forehead. “Da, moy malen’kiy pitomets.” My little pet.

Fuck that and fuck him. I take in the rest of the thugs stinking up the room in one go. An older version of Joseph is leaning an elbow on the mantel, looking pretty happy with himself in a flashy suit and goatee.

Fat fingers dig into my shoulders and pin me to the floor between Junior’s legs. Like this, I’m sitting on my haunches and look no different than a good bitch being put in her place.

And it pisses me off.

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