Page 7 of Bloody Vows
“And I get no say,” I fire back bitterly.
“I’ve found a husband for you who is ten years older than you, attractive, and who won’t harm you. Your agreement to marry him is a fair exchange.”
"A fair exchange?" I'm so angry I can barely speak. "You're talking about my life!"
“I am,” Konstantin agrees. “I’m talking about you getting to keep it.”
That cold terror threads through my veins again. “You said…”
“I know what I said.” He puts his hands in his pockets, staring me down. “I like to think I’m a diplomatic man, Simone,a man who doesn’t like bloodshed and who does all he can to avoid it. But I am also a Bratvapakhan. And I have to think of my territory, of my family, and what choices I have to make to keep the peace and my power. I will kill if I have to.”
"You're insane if you think I'm going to agree to this," I whisper, staring at him. I think of Tristan’s possessive smirk, of the way he looked at me as if he’d bought me already, and Ihatehim. I can’t imagine letting him touch me. I can’t imagine letting him take what should be mine, if I weren’t a woman, if anyone would let me have it for myself… “You’re not my father. You’re not my guardian. You have no power over me?—”
“Except I do,” Konstantin interrupts me. “I’ve told you what I’ve decided, Simone. Other bosses would have killed you without finding a way to let you live. They would have decided that you’d be too much trouble, a loose end better tied off and burned than allowed to fester and cause problems down the line. But I’m not fond of killing women, and I don’t believe that violence is usually the answer. But hear me, Simone, clearly. I want you to understand this.”
He straightens and takes a step toward me, his ice-blue eyes fixed on mine. “You will marry Tristan O’Malley, Simone. You will say yes, and you will sign the papers today.”
“Or what?” I whisper defiantly, even as I already know the answer.
Konstantin doesn’t flinch. “Or you will die.”
3
TRISTAN
Ten or so minutes after Konstantin takes my wife-to-be off to speak to him in her father’s office, I’ve gotten impatient.
“I’m going to go see what they’re discussing.” I step away from my father’s chair toward the door, and my father clears his throat.
“Better to wait for them to come back, son.”
“He’s been in there with my fiancée long enough.” I stride toward the doorway, and Damian Kutnezsov steps in my way.
“Konstantin said to stay here.”
“He doesn’t tell me what to do. I’m going to be his business partner, not his subordinate.” I see Damian’s hand twitch toward his gun, and I smirk. “Go ahead, shoot me. I’m going to find them.”
I’ve never been here before, so I don’t know which way the late Russo patriarch’s office actually is. But the sound of raised voices enables me to find my way there soon enough. I walk in just in time to see Simone standing ramrod straight next to the bookshelf, her face white as paper, staring at Konstantin with a look of shock and disbelief.
I close the door behind me with aclick, and her attention snaps to me.
She’s startlingly beautiful. I thought so from the minute I walked into her living room and saw her, regal as a queen despite her circumstances. Every inch of her was made to make a man want her, from her thick, dark hair that begs for hands to tangle in it, to her perfectly delicate face, her full mouth, her exquisite body. Long legs to wrap around a man’s hips, a narrow waist—fuck, I can’t wait to have her in my bed. She’s uptight and elegant now, but I bet I can make her scream for me.
There’s never been a woman yet who could resist me. And I find this one more intriguing than most. She’s all alone in the world, from what I know, an orphan now, without any recourse but to marry someone who can hold her father’s territory for her. And yet, she behaves as if she’s the one in charge. She talked to those men as if she ownedtheirlives, not the other way around. Not as if any one of them could claim her and her father’s estate with a word from a priest, making her subservient to them in every way that matters.
I don’t see a submissive bone in Simone Russo’s body. All the same, I think as I meet her gaze with my own, I can’t wait to see her on her knees.
Her gaze whips back to Konstantin. “You won’t kill me,” she says flatly, but the tremor in her voice says she doesn’t believe her own words. He meets her eyes impassively.
“I don’t want to,” he replies calmly. “Believe me, Simone, I don’t. But you will marry Tristan, or you will die. Those are your options.”
Her body is tense, stiff as she looks at him, clearly searching for some chink in the armor, some way out of this. Her eyes flash with defiance, every line of her body screaming stubbornness, and I find it oddly arousing. I should see her and think that she’s going to be trouble, that controlling her is going to be a pain inmy ass, and it undoubtedly is. But it’s a challenge that makes my blood spark, my cock twitch at the thought of fighting Simone Russo. Of bending her to my will.
I’m used to women who are compliant. Easy. Falling all over themselves to try to seduce me. At thirty-two and a bachelor, there’s no shortage of women trying to make themselves the next Mrs. O’Malley, especially with my brother already wed. Those who didn’t manage to seduce the heir are happy to try to slide down the ladder a rung and claim me instead.
Except I’ve had no interest in being tied down. I’ve always enjoyed the freedom that being the second son grants me—the freedom to shoulder less responsibility, the freedom to spend more recklessly, to fuck who I please without ever thinking about marriage or heirs. But Ihavealways craved more power.
When Konstantin reached out to my father and offered this to me, I couldn’t say no.
