Page 71 of Cashmere Ruin

“That’s right.” Dominic regains his composure with a haughty sniffle. “I’m sorry you thought this was a negotiation, April. It’s not. Either you take what we’re offering, or we’ll just take her.”

“I see.”

“I’m glad you underst?—”

“Then try.”

Dominic blinks. “What was that?”

“I said,Try,” I repeat. “Try taking my daughter and see what the fuck happens.”

All this time, I’ve had one thought hammering at the back of my head—a single, pressing regret.If only Matvey were here.

But now, I’m fed up with it. I’m tired of waiting for someone to save me. For someone to careabout me.

If Matvey isn’t here to pull the trigger, I’ll just do it for both of us.

“‘See what happens’?” Nora echoes. “Nothing will happen, April. You have no resources, no family?—”

“I have a boyfriend,” I exhale softly.

“Right,” Anne smirks. “The ‘CEO.’”

“Yes. And the head of the Groza Bratva.”

Dominic’s face falls. Nora’s, too. The twins just look confused, but Anne…

She’s heard of them. She knows what I’m talking about.

“You’re lying,” she hisses.

“Then by all means, test me. Better yet, testhim.Like I said: see what happens.” I circle the herd of Flowers devil spawn with measured steps, then calmly stop in front of my father. Myblood, like Matvey would say. “But if you ever try to take my child again, I won’t grace you with a warning.”

“You’re threatening us?” Dominic stammers. “Your own family?”

“You’re not my family,” I reply. “None of you. So stay the fuck away from my daughter.”

I elbow my way past the little crowd of four, ramming straight into Nora’s side. “You’re making a big mistake,” she warns.

I don’t spare her a single glance. “Enjoy the monsters you created.”

Then I show myself out.

23

MATVEY

I come home to an unexpected noise: crying.

It shouldn’t be thatunexpected. With a baby at home, silence should be rarer, but May’s something else—and I’m not saying that just because she’s mine.

In all the time I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her cry without reason. If she’s tired, she sleeps; if she’s hungry, she sends the cat to get us; if she’s dirty, she makes a disgruntled noise I’ve only ever heard come from geriatric pugs. The one time she burst into tears out of nowhere was back at my apartment, when I was having a shouting match with her mother.

Her mother. That’s a different story.

I’ve fallen back into old, bad habits: the second I see her, I can’t keep my hands to myself. Goddamn vixen has sunk her claws back into me, shredding my self-control into bloody ribbons. It’s fucking Pavlovian—the second I ride up in that elevator, my cock starts throbbing like it’s about to explode.

But tonight, something’s different. Tonight, no claws greet me at the door.

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