Page 45 of Merciless Queen

Dimitri’s number one piece of advice when he first started training me, before Papa’s death, was to trust my gut. The body instinctively knows things, and to accept the facts and use them to direct my decision making.

Which is how I know, even with all the bad blood between Ivan and me, he isn’t lying. It isn’t some bullshit ploy. It’s genuine advice that resonates and the room fades into a memory, to the first conversation Papa and I had about Erico Rossi.

“Doch'!”Papa yells from down the hallway.

I stop walking, almost regretfully, my purse becoming the outlet to shield my annoyance from him as I clench my hands around the pink leather handle. Papa preys on weaknesses and I’ll never let him view mine.

Three days ago, he got home from wherever he frequently disappears to. Which means, it’s been three days of walking oneggshells. Not that his absence makes a difference, considering the force of men he has around, but at least with him gone, he takes his judgement with him. Small wins.

Beside me, my friend—if I were to call her that—Inessa stops as well, eyes lined with too much makeup darting from me to Papa and back. I nudge my chin toward the hall, silently instructing her to continue to my room so she doesn’t have to be subjected to whatever’s about to happen. She takes my offer with a tight smile and I watch her go, wishing I could escape too.

Inessa is someone from Papa’s list of approved friends. Meaning, we’re shoved together constantly, despite me being in my mid-twenties and not needing my father to meddle in my friendships. Inessa is the exact definition of a social butterfly and cares more about who kissed who this week than anything even relevantly important. She’s as annoying as the reality shows she enjoys watching, but useful in getting me out of the mansion and away from Papa all the times Anastasia’s father refuses to release her from her metaphorical cage.

Once Papa and I are alone, he flicks a finger toward the purse in my hand. “Did you have a good time?”

Net.“Bought a dress.”

“That’s nice.”

His tone says he’s not asking out of interest, and the conniving gleam in his eyes suggests more is coming. And it does, between my next stilted, barely audible breath. “A husband will keep you happy and ensure you continue to spend freely,moy dorogoy.” My dear.

Yep, he wants something. Clearly, he’s chosen said future husband, despite my numerous attempts to change his mind. Marriage isn’t something I’m chasing because it won’t make me the next Bratva’s leader. That position will get handed to my husband, while I’ll be idle on the sidelines, producing heirs.

Crossing my arms, I stare at Papa, unamused over the complicated path he’s taking to make his point. “I’m sure,” I reply dryly, hoping he hears the displeasure in my tone. “He’ll also limit me in other ways. Make me less of myself. You wouldn’t do that to your only child, would you?” My voice lowers into a sweeter, give-me-what-I-want tone. The same a child uses when pleading for sugary treats.

Papa rolls his eyes. “Don’t be dramatic, Vanessa. It’s a dishonour to your mother.”

Yes, the woman I hardly recall, only mentioned when convenient to him.

“I found you someone perfect. Erico Rossi of the New YorkFamiglia.”

“America.”I don’t hide the disgust in my voice. “Americans are…not us.”

Papa’s shaking his head. “This is not up for debate. Pack a bag. We leave tomorrow for New York. I’ve already been in communication with Erico’s father. There’s some complications with this union, but none that’ll stop us.”

Us. Of course, because now I’m worthy. Needed. So he makes us a partnership when it’s convenient for his cause.

“No.”

Papa’s eyes lighten into a frosty ice. “This isnotup for debate,” he repeats. “You will wed Rossi and you will be fucking happy with the empire your son will one day inherit. TheFamigliawill be good for you. They have a large force we can benefit from.”

Papa then glances to the side, but nothing’s there so I’m not sure what he’s looking at. His eyes are tight in the corners, which usually indicates annoyance, as does his firm jaw. He rolls his lips together and shifts in his spot before looking my way again, his gaze more resigned than before.

That’s when it hits me. He’s not annoyed, but…Even my thoughts can’t formulate the words because they’re simply impossible. Unfailing, strong Papa doesn’t fear anything. One of the most useful things he’s ever told me is to only fear the unknown when there is no other option, no control.

So what’s the unknown in this instance? A fear so grand, he’s not hiding it.

“Papa, are you all right? You don’t seem well.”

He blinks, jerking away. “I’m fine. Pack your bag. We leave tomorrow.”

Then he walks away and I?—

“Vanessa!”

I blink, inhaling a large breath through my lungs as both my body and mind wake up and return me to the present. To where Anastasia’s now hovering by my desk and my uncle’s standing again, practically leaning over me.

“Sorry. I just…never mind.” Rubbing my hands over my face, I try to wake myself up before saying, “You mentioned how much Papa wanted the alliance with New York and it hit me. He wassoforceful in demanding that I marry Rossi.”

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