Page 39 of Stolen By the Don

I snort, the sound amusing in a mocking way. “His fiancée?”

His head jerks in a quick nod. “That’s what he’s been saying. Marco Ricci promised her to him in exchange for their alliance. He had things to settle outside the country, so he wasn’t aware she was marrying someone else. But since she didn’t and she’s with you…he’s coming for what’s his.”

The fucker.

A dark laugh rumbles up from my throat, dry and humorless, as I drag my fingers through my hair. Marco Ricci. I thought his greatest sin was killing my father. But as it turns out, the man’s offenses are bottomless. A shitty father. A coward. And now, a pimp in a thousand-dollar suit.

He abandoned his daughter with a man who had no mercy to give.

But not before he auctioned her off like some rare collectible, lining up bidders in back rooms and boardrooms.

I wonder how many men he approached.Two? Three?Did he plan to give her to one and burn the others, the same way he betrayed my father? If he hadn’t killed my father, he would’ve been a dead man either way.

He was already dead before I knew it. The only difference is that now his death is going to be by my hands.

I clasp my hands together, palms pressed so tightly they sting. My gaze settles on Billie across the desk.

“He said he’s coming for her?” I ask.

“Yes.” Billie shifts under the weight of my voice. “He said she’s his. That you’ve got no claim. From the sound of it, he might make his move soon. Maybe we could give her to him. In exchange for Marco’s location. If he feels cheated, he might be willing to?—”

He pauses when he sees my expression shift. I tilt my head, the calm on my face masking the storm. “You want me to give her to him?”

Billie hesitates and then shrugs as if trying to soften his suggestion. “I just thought?—”

“No,” I interrupt, voice low, steady. “You didn’t think.”

The air shifts.

I rise slowly from my chair. There is no shouting, no slamming fists, just the quiet hum of something violent pressing beneath my skin. I see the pale spreading across Billie’s face and his Adam’s apple stuck in his throat. My fist curls and my fingers flex.

Do I really need him?I could find someone else—the list of people who betrayed my father is longer than it should be. It’s high time I go through them.

“Your life,” I say, “is much less valuable than hers. So if it ever comes down to a choice…” Billie swallows. “Pray I never have to make it.”

“I understand,” he says, trembling slightly.

“Good. Get out.”

He dashes out of my office, but he pauses at the door, closing it gently. I inhale heavily as I sit down, the weight of my anger pressing down on my chest.

Igor Smirnov.A no-name, small-time pakhan coming for Isabella. She’s mine. Mine alone. And if Igor needs to understand that, if he needs it carved into his skin, whispered into his ears as he chokes on his own blood, then I’ll teach him.

I’ll make him regret the moment he ever said her name aloud.

He’ll be a warning to everyone else—whoever was dumb enough to make a deal with Marco—that she’s my wife.

Reaching for my phone, I call Leo.

“How fast can you make plans for a wedding?”

12

ISABELLA

Wearing black feels like the best revenge for being forced to marry to Roman Volkov.

I’d rather die. Like I should’ve died from the cold and the heat.

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