Ugh, that slimeball, Dante Caruso… I hope my father starts a war and kills him first. Asking me to suck his dick like I’m a whore.
“Oh,” Katya says, sounding worried for our enemies.
“Oh?” I repeat with my hands on my hips. “The man is twice my age!”
“Forty-two isn’t that old.”
Like it matters. I don’t want to get married. I don’t want to be anyone’s pawn or prisoner. “The blood under his fingernails is older than me.”
“Papa kills people, too.”
“Yeah, so? He’ll never murder me.” Only, I’m not sure anymore.
“I doubt your husband would murder you.”
“No. But he can hurt me.” I sit on the edge of my bed and whine out loud, “How can Papa do this to me?”
“Perhaps you can ask someone for help instead of leaving.”
“Like who?” I play dumb because I already have.
“The Irish. Their enforcer, Lachlan, seemed—”
My heart jumps into my throat. “You stay away from him, Katya. He killed a priest.”
“What?” she shrieks. “If he killed a priest, why isn’t he in jail?”
I roll my eyes, feeling how sore they are from crying. “Did you just get here yesterday? No one in the brotherhood, the mafia, or the Irish mob goes to jail around here.”
“Maybe he had a good reason to kill the priest.”
“Anyone who would risk the damnation of his soul won’t sympathize with a Bratva princess.”
“I guess you’re right.”
I shake my head and think about the Irish Enforcer, who, if nothing else, is loyal to his family. The O’Rourkes are vicious, but they have a shred of honor.
“I’d marry Lachlan O’Rourke before that Boston monster Papa is selling me to. I’m out of here.”
“Where are you going?” Katya cries out.
I steer her to my bed and finger the long braid, noticing how blonde her hair is now. Like mine, but her eyes are warm brown.
“I can’t tell you. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but believe me, it’s safer if you don’t know. Papa’s people have a way of knowing if someone is lying and getting information out of them. Especially women.” I kiss her forehead, and she pulls me in for a hug.
“How can you leave? Do you have money?” she asks.
I don’t want her to worry about me, but she can’t know that scum Dante Caruso helped me. “I have some money. Enough. Papa doesn’t hide his extra cash very well, and there’s so much of it, he doesn’t even realize it’s gone. I have enough to live on for a while. I’ll figure out how to get more when I’m settled somewhere.”
“Take me with you, please?” She grabs hold of my wrist. The desperation in her eyes stuns me.
“Katya, I can’t take you with me. Yulia will look after you.” I uncurl her fingers from my wrist and stand. “You just made the Dean’s List at East Side Performing Arts, for crying out loud. Papa didn’t let me go to college. I’m so proud of you. Keep dancing, mladshaya sestra.” I call her little sister in Russian to strengthen our bond.
“I will keep dancing.” She hugs me again. “Will you write me?”
“I can’t.” I shake my head. “Papa checks the mail.”
“Wait here.” Katya dashes into the hallway.