Page 28 of Trapping His Darling

“Don’t make me remind you of where your loyalty lies,” I warned. “I am not in the mood for your secrets and manipulations.”

“I am not a child for you to scold,” he muttered.

“Then tell me.”

He cleared his throat. “It would seem your brother has found a way to dispute your claim to the throne.”

“How?” I held my phone so tight, I swore it would crack.

“A legitimate heir. Alexie looks to present a son to your father to succeed him. A child they could raise to be a more suitable leader.”

My world stopped for a brief second. The thought of another Alexie in the world made me want to order his death. But if I did, the men may martyr him.

“I won’t let that happen,” I promised my godfather.

“Then do your duty. Remember, as long as he’s breathing, you are not safe.”

The click of him hanging up on me made me want to slit his throat for the disrespect. They all wanted to see me fail. Fucking Alexie. Always trying to one up me.

But they had no idea who they were dealing with now. In the past, I bore the guilt and played the part of the willing whipping boy, for something that was not my fault. But those days were over. I served my penance. Now I would rise from the ashes and soar, and if need be, my reign will be one of fire and blood.

I glanced back at my bedroom door. It wouldn’t be long before Tiffany woke up. Soon, a child would grow in her womb. A true Bratva heir. One they wouldn’t,couldn’trefute. I might be the black sheep they didn’t want to accept, but as it stood, I was the heir, not Alexie, and my child would have a stronger claim.

I wouldn’t allow anything to get in my way. Especially not Alexie.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Viktor

I sat nextto Tiffany on the bed as she roused from the sedation. She abruptly sat up, looked around frantically, then pulled the sheets high and tight to cover herself. The glare she gave me spoke volumes.

“Where are you from originally?” I inquired, softly brushing back her hair. I already knew the answer. I just wanted to coax her out of her anger and draw her closer to me, both physically and emotionally, and distract her from the unpleasantness of my kidnapping her.

Her response came as a barely audible whisper as she took in her surroundings. “A small town on the East Coast in America.”

“And how long have you lived in Russia?”

Her gaze returned to me. “Not very,” she replied curtly, her brevity indicating how annoyed she was at me.

“In terms of time,milyy,”I pressed gently, the endearment slipping naturally from my lips. The word felt oddly affectionate, considering the circumstances.

“What does that mean? M-mil-eya?”

“Milyy,”I emphasized, elongating the word to guide her pronunciation. Though I harbored desires to focus on the Bratva, her presence had become an undeniable distraction, emotionally speaking, one that I couldn’t afford for long. It bothered me that she was angry, and it shouldn’t. “Darling. It means Darling.”

She sighed. “I think it would be better if I went home.”

“No,” I replied simply.

She narrowed her gaze. “So you have kidnapped me?”

“Your fate is now tied to mine.”

“Why?”

“Because of the blood we shared,” I reminded her. “You now belong to me.” A trace of warning laced my tone, cautioning her to not dispute me on this.

She shrugged. “Perhaps I will escape.”

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