Page 71 of Dangerous Vows

“But—” My mind is reeling. How did I not know that my father had to save face? He made a promise, and his word is the law to his men, and unfortunately, to me.

“You think this baby will save you?” He scoffs. “You’re even more foolish than I thought,” he laughs. “If anything, it makes you more valuable.”

My breath hitches. “You’d sell me off, knowing I carry another man’s child?”

He leans in close, his cologne choking me. “If Miloš takes possession of you, it’s his business. His burden. Not mine. You refused to do this the civilized way. You defied me. Now you’re on your own.”

He steps back, and I see his face twisting in disgust, and that’s when something deep inside me withers and breaks.

That’s it? He’s just…throwing me away?

I expect relief, but all I feel is disappointment followed by dread.

And then his hand snaps out and strikes my face. He moves like a heavyweight sumo wrestler, with the unexpected agility of a trained fighter.

The impact hits hard, making me stumble. The sharp, metallic taste of blood fills my mouth from a split lip. I fall forward, hands outstretched, hoping to catch myself before I hit the ground. I see the edge of the desk, and I miss it, because his fist slams into my gut, causing me to drop to my knees.

That’s when I realize he’s not done with me. White-hot pain radiates through my ribs. I struggle to breathe. Gasping for air, I defensively place my hands over my belly and curl into a ball. I have to protect the innocent life growing there.

“See what a Borrelli does with his whore!” his voice thunders. It’s raw with fury. “You’re no daughter of mine,” he yells as I hear his hands slapping together like he’s dusting crumbs off them.

Just when I think his torture is over, I’m hit with another blow as hekicks me in the gut. Once is not enough, so he kicks me again and again—vicious, with calculated blows meant to break, not kill.

I curl in on myself and close my eyes, willing the pain to stop—willinghimto stop, though I know he might not be able to.

Pain is his addiction.

I swallow the sob threatening to escape. If I show emotion, he’ll only get worse. He’ll be relentless.

My prayers are answered when, just as quickly as it started, it’s over.

I hear him step back and peer up at him with hooded eyes. He brushes off his suit and barks, “Get out.”

It hurts to move, so I remain on the floor. But my father wants what he wants, when he wants it, and so he nudges my ribs with his expensive shoe. “I said get out,” he says, his voice louder this time.

I force myself to my feet, and every nerve in my body is screaming, and every step is agony as I limp toward the door.

Outside, the guards avert their gazes. They’ve seen this before.

I stumble out of the house. Elio nods to a guard to help me. A hand slips under my arm, and I’m shoved into an SUV.

I don’t know where we’re going. For all I know, it’s a watery grave. So when we reach the city, I use what energy I have left and push the door open when he stops at a traffic light. And then I run as if my life depends upon it.

Because it does.

I clutch my stomach like I’m holding myself together, and my baby in place.

My father’s words loop in my head.

You’re worthless.

You’re no daughter of mine.

You’re on your own.

I take the subway to my stop. I don’t know how I make it upstairs, how I manage to unlock my apartment door before collapsing inside.

Sarah’s gasp is the last thing I hear before I black out.

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