Page 7 of The Bratva's Innocent Sold Bride
“Don’t hurt my daughter,” he pleaded. “She’s all I have. The company’s hanging on by a thread, or I’d offer you my controlling shares. I’m already ruined, but I’d die without her.”
“You’re going to die anyway. And you’re lying. Taurus Ingenuity is up.”
He shook his head, wiping snot with the back of his hand. “I’ve been manipulating the market, but it’ll all come out soon enough. I was desperate, don’t you see?”
I kicked him again. “I don’t care what your reasons were.” I decided he had suffered enough for now and brought down the hammer. “I’m taking CJ with me tonight.”
The blow had him go utterly still, cradled in the fetal position, barely breathing. And it wasn’t even the killing strike, not yet. He’d have to live with the knowledge that I’d have complete control over his daughter, just so he could continue to live.
“And I want those shares in the company, too,” I said, just to be petty.
He somehow gathered the strength to rise and tried to attack me, but it was a feeble attempt; he was utterly broken. He knew the only way he could live was to sell his daughter to pay the debt, and he was too much of a coward to give up his own life.
“Bring her to me at once,” I said. “She’s mine now, after all.”
Chapter 5 - CJ
I went upstairs to my room, bristling with embarrassment. Sent to my room like a child, not that I wanted anything to do with that angry man at the door. Speaking to me like that, thinking I was the maid. Honestly, if he had spoken to our maid that way, I would have let him have it.
Once I closed the door behind me, I meant to get right to work on all the information I was given about Taurus Ingenuity. Even though I should have known everything about it, since it would one day fall to me to run it, my father wasn’t the sort to take his daughter to work. He was always too busy to explain things to me, and when I was little, I was a bit resentful of the company that put food on the table. By the time I got to college, I was too busy. Now I was about to join the team.
Until the encounter at the door, I was excited to start reading. Sinking down into the chair at my desk, I stared at the big monitor with the picture of the snowy slopes of Tahoe from several winters ago. It had been a long time since I had a vacation, even last Christmas was a quick dinner with Dad, a video chat with my mom, and then back to the grind.
The few friends I managed to keep up with didn’t even know I had this job yet, and I took a few minutes to message them, catching up with the big news in their lives and promising we’d get together soon. Then I sat back and huffed.
Why couldn’t I concentrate? Every time I looked down at the company manual, images of flashing blue eyes crowded into my mind. Even my room, my sanctuary of calm, felt stifling.
As much as I loved pretty clothes and nice things, I had to have my room austere. My father always teased me that I was a monk in another life, with my simple cream bedspread,distinct lack of frou-frou pillows, and only a few photos that I took myself on the walls. My desk was always perfectly tidy, with all my pens, cords, and gadgets hidden in the drawer when they weren’t in use. My dad’s office made me crazy, but if I dared move a single protractor an inch, he’d snap at me to knock it off he had his system.
The closet, on the other hand, looked like a tornado had gone through it, since I had been trying to put together interview outfits that didn’t scream either college kid or heiress. All the designer stuff was in a pile, all my Stanford sweats and workout clothes were in another pile, and the few suitable outfits that remained were hanging on the rack.
Even cleaning my closet didn’t get my mind off that guy. What were they talking about for so long, and why did he look so mad? It hit me that he might have been the source of my father’s stress all day, and I was about to get Rinda back on the phone so I could describe him to her. If she didn’t know what it was about, then I’d really have cause to worry.
I didn’t have a chance to send the message because Dad called me from the foot of the stairs, something he never does. It’s unseemly or something like that. He’d either send Jackson to get me, send me a text, or just come up and tap on my door. His voice was different from how I’d ever heard it, and I’d heard him shouting on the rooftops when something wasn’t put together right.
He sounded… scared. Except I wasn’t sure, because I never saw my father scared of anything.
After I entered his office, I gasped at the sight of him. He had a cut on the side of his face, a welt blooming on his chin, his hair was sticking out in every direction like it had been pulled, and worst of all, his face was streaked with tears.
I whipped around to glare at the man—that big blue-eyed man I had mistakenly thought was gorgeous—and instantly looked away. Those eyes were terrifying now. He had done this to my father, but why? And why was I getting involved in it?
“Where’s security?” I asked, heading for the panic button under his desk.
“Don’t,” Dad said harshly.
“It wouldn’t matter if she did,” the man said.
“Just leave it, CJ, and sit down.” My father sank into one of his leather chairs, and I skated past the man to sit on the couch. “This is Matvey Fokin.”
“You can call me Mat,” he said, with a grin that chilled my blood.
“I don’t think I will, thank you.”
He took a step closer, and my father shrank back as if he was going to be struck. “Why don’t you tell your daughter what’s about to happen to her?”
I gasped. My father sobbed and told me a story I was sure had to be fiction. This was a joke. He owed this Mat Fokin money, and now I was the payment? No, this had to be a joke. My father didn’t usually play practical jokes, but there was no way this was real. I laughed, not so much because I thought it was funny, but because he’d gone to so much trouble.
Mat didn’t join in, and my father looked sick, leaning over and holding his stomach as he continued to cry. “I’m so sorry, CJ, I’m so sorry.”
