Page 9 of The Mafia's Quadruplets

“This isn’t a negotiation, Miss Bennett.” His blue eyes pierce into mine. “Consider it insurance against you running. You’ll sleep at my estate each night, available whenever I need you.”

“What about my cat?” The question slips out before I can stop it. I don’t even own a cat.

A flicker of amusement crosses his face. “Bring the cat.”

“My clothes? My things?”

“My staff will pack and move everything you need.” He walks to his desk and picks up his phone. “Your new bodyguards, Ivan and Sergei, will take you wherever you need to go today, back to the shop or to your massage clients. The choice is yours.” His lips curve into a cold smile. “Enjoy having choices while you still do.”

I dig my nails into my palms. “What if I refuse?”

“Then your parents lose their shop immediately instead of having the chance to earn it back through your service.” He speaks with the casual indifference of someone discussing the weather. “Which would you prefer?”

My shoulders slump. He knows he has me cornered. “Fine. I’ll move in.”

“Excellent.” He presses a button on his phone. “Ivan will be waiting in the lobby. Don’t try to run. My men will be watching.”

I turn toward the door, my legs shaky.

“Oh, and, Claire?”

I pause with my hand on the doorknob.

“Pack something nice for dinner. We’ll be dining together tonight.”

I glare at him and say coldly, “Of course, Mr. Rostova.”

“Valerian,” he corrects. “When we’re alone, you’ll call me Valerian.”

I nod, unable to form words under the intensity of his stare. Despite everything, a small thrill runs through me at the way he issues the command.

“Welcome to your new life, Miss Bennett,” he says as I reach the door. “I have a feeling we’re going to work very well together.”

The moment I step out of Valerian’s office, my stomach lurches violently. The world spins, and I press my hand against the wall to steady myself. “Bathroom,” I mumble as bile rises up my esophagus.

The man who greeted the two men bringing me in materializes beside me, his expression somewhere between annoyance and disgust. He grabs my elbow, steering me down a hallway to a pristine guest bathroom. I barely make it to the toilet before emptying my stomach.

The marble floor is cold against my knees when I heave as tears prick my eyes. When the nausea finally subsides, I splash cold water on my face and rinse my mouth, avoiding my reflection in the mirror.

Dmitri stands waiting when I emerge, his arms crossed. “What’s the matter? You pregnant or something? The boss won’t like that.”

A harsh laugh escapes me. The doctor’s words from ten years ago flash through my mind—polycystic ovarian syndrome, difficulty conceiving, and potential infertility. “No, I’m not pregnant.”

“Then what’s your problem?”

“My problem?” My voice rises. “My problem is that my entire life just got hijacked because my brother can’t control his gambling addiction. My problem is that I’m being forced to work for, and live with, a man who thinks he can own people. My problem is that everything I’ve worked for is being taken away from me.”

Dmitri rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. The boss is being generous. He could have taken the shop and thrown your brother in the river.”

The casual way he mentions violence makes my skin crawl. These people really do live in a different world.

“Ivan and Sergei will drive you back to the shop,” Dmitri says, gesturing to the two men who brought me here. “Try not to puke in the car. It’s new.”

The ride back is silent. I stare out the window, watching the city blur past. The familiar storefront of Bloom House comes into view too quickly. Mom will be wondering where I’ve been. How am I supposed to explain any of this?

4

Valerian

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