Page 9 of His Forced Bride
"Sanity is a luxury neither of us can afford tonight, Ms. Mirova, and you'd do well to remember that I was your father's business associate, but I'm still a dangerous man."
The ambulance carrying her father's body pulls away from the curb, its lights fading into the darkness.
Inessa stiffens, and I feel her fists pressing against my chest, but even she is wise enough to know not to fight me in public.
Just as easily as I can save her entire kingdom, I could finish her before the clock strikes midnight.
There is a reason we have an alliance in parley.
But by tomorrow night, our enemies will know exactly how exposed we've become.
Surely, even at twenty-three years old, she's smart enough to understand how vulnerable she is.
"I need time to consider this," she says.
"You have until dawn. After that, other forces will begin moving, and our options will narrow considerably. Don't mistake this hit on your father's life as a warning. They'd have just as easily killed you. Our enemies don’t want this alliance any more than you want to consider me a viable option for salvation." I let her go and see the fear in her eyes, catch the hint of quivering in her lip.
Then I reach into my jacket and withdraw a business card wrapped in my handkerchief, extending it toward her.
She takes it without looking, her attention focused on some point beyond my shoulder where the last officers are documenting the scene.
"My private number is on the back," I tell her.
"When you're ready to discuss terms, contact me. I'll be awake, waiting."
I turn to leave, but something tells me this isn't going to be easy.
Viktoria is going to swoop in like a fucking vulture and ruin it, and if I don't move to stop that from happening, everything I've built—a fucking lifetime of hard work and shed blood—will be for nothing.
I need a drink.
I need to dig the pain of losing my only child out of my heart.
And then I need to decide exactly how I will force Inessa Mirova to continue this alliance, even if I have to put a gun in her side to make it happen.
3
INESSA
The fluorescent lights above the metal table burn my eyes.
Detective Zhukov asks the same questions for the fourth time, his pen scratching across yellow paper while I sit in this plastic chair that cuts into my spine.
My wedding dress clings to my skin, stiff with his blood.
The fabric pulls tight across my chest every time I breathe, reminding me of how I held him while he died on the pavement outside my studio like a common criminal.
"Tell me again about the vehicle that pulled up."
I press my palms flat against the cold surface.
"There were three black SUVs… I've told you this." I'm growing impatient and tired.
I want a drink and my sketch pencils to calm my nerves.
"How many shots did you hear?"
"I don’t know… A lot." My voice comes out flat.
