Page 51 of Ruthless King
“I’m only stating the truth,” I say. But for some reason, the rest won’t leave my throat—that she came at me with a knife. That she might be Safiya. That I sold her as a child and left her for dead.
“You know what I think would clear up this misunderstanding?” Mischa suggests. “You prove your sincerity.”
I swallow hard at his tone. Whatever the man may be thinking is obscured by his stoic expression. To find out his aims, I have to use my balls and ask. “How so?”
He smiles cruelly, and I doubt a simple verbal plea is what he has in mind. “You forfeit your holdings on the harbor to me—”
“That sounds like blackmail,” I snap, unable to restrain my tone this time. Anger rips through me, and I have to breathe in through my nose just to keep my vision clear. Vin, I think, curling my fists so hard my nails dig into my palms. Think of Vin. Think of Vin…
“We should put this in writing,” Fabio suggests, moving toward his desk. His tone is businesslike, but he grimaces as he fishes out a pen. Even in his rush to please both sides, he knows an unreasonable ask when he hears it.
“Why would you even want the harbor?” I demand, facing Mischa. “Considering you’ve spurned my every attempt to form an alliance when it comes to securing it.”
“An alliance?” he questions, palming his chin. “Or a mercy to prop up what little holdings you have left? When it comes to doing business, I only enter agreements with men I trust. Not only will you forfeit your holdings. Afterward, you leave the city, and you stay away. If you ever come near my daughter again, I have every right to kill you. We both know why.”
It’s a blunt insinuation. One that makes me wonder just how much he knows of his supposed daughter’s past. Going off the look in his eye? Everything.
And it all makes sense.
“You’ve been hostile to me for some time, Mischa,” I say. “I’ve always wondered why. Most men who show me such avoidance aren’t shy about their reasons.”
“Most men have a code,” he counters. “Lines they refuse to cross.”
Like selling little girls to men like Nicolai Baryshnikov. He doesn’t say it out loud.
He doesn’t have to.
“From what I’ve heard, some men might consider your code looser than most,” I snap. “For instance, I don’t think most men meet their wives the way you met yours.”
I certainly didn’t. I would have gladly run a knife through my chest before ever laying a hand on Olivia. Mischa’s wife was not so lucky, it seems.
An eyebrow raised, the man laughs. “And most men don’t discard the children in their care the way I heard some chose to.”
There is no mistaking it now. He knows. Just how much?
“Whatever happened between your daughter and me is in the past,” I say. “I didn’t hurt her.”
“And yet here you are, aiming to make amends,” he points out, gesturing to the space around us. “Or do you wish to compound your insult?”
By rubbing it in his face.
By spurning his gross extortion.
By spitting on the hand of the man who sees himself as the king of this shadow empire.
I want to. I do.
But I would be condemning Vin to a lifetime of fighting.
“Take the harbor,” I say, dropping all pretense. I turn to the window, eyeing the glistening waters of the bay in the distance. I let the sight ground me, picturing Vin superimposed over the image. His life is worth more than property. More than anything.
“You leave my family alone,” I add. “I’ll keep my distance from yours. I don’t want a war with you.”
“If you ever come near my daughter again, I will kill you myself. You leave me the harbor, you leave the city by the week’s end, and I’ll be expecting a generous donation to my daughter’s conservatory in Vienna to cement your contrition. Of your own volition, of course. You have a week to make the necessary arrangements, as well as to vacate any property you have within twenty miles—”
“And leave it to you?” I hiss, whirling to face him.
His eyes gleam. “Out of the kindness of your heart for any trouble you may have caused. I’m glad we cleared up this misunderstanding.”
