Page 1 of Watch Me, Daddy

PROLOGUE

Irina Morozov

“You will speak only when you’re spoken to.”

As first meetings go, this one had already turned into a steaming pile of shit. I’d been looking forward to meeting my future husband for weeks now, and in the span of a few minutes, I already knew that I hated him and everything he stood for.

Anton’s voice echoed through the room as he took a threatening step towards me. I stood my ground and refused to allow myself to flinch even the tiniest bit, holding my head high and leveling him with a glare vicious enough to raise the dead. I gritted my teeth as he stared back at me, seemingly unaffected by my ire in a way that I had never experienced before in my life. He’d exuded an air of malevolence from the moment he’d walked into the room. He’d only come to inform me of the rules he had set for me as his future bride.

“You will be a good, obedient wife, but most importantly, you will be quiet, and do as you’re told,” he spat. His words dripped with venom, revealing his sadistic nature as he sought to bend me to his will.

I was never going to bend for him.

As he advanced towards me, his heavy footsteps resounded like impending doom, and I steeled myself against the fear that threatened to betray me to him. Despite my defiance, his icy stare continued to bore into me. His hands fisted at his sides, silently threatening violence should I push things any further. His eyes, framed by dark brows, harbored a dangerous intensity that hinted at a soul corrupted by power and cruelty. It was as if he derived pleasure from wielding control over others, leaving me with the haunting realization that this man was not to be underestimated.

Maybe it was foolish, but I stood my ground anyway.

“I. Will. Not.If my father knew how you were treating me, he’d have your head on a platter,” I declared.

My father was Maxim Morozov, one of the most powerful bratva bosses in Boston. We were new to the city, but my father had a long list of allies, and I knew that he would call on every single one of them if he knew that Anton was speaking to me like this.

“Your father gave you to me. The paperwork has been signed. He won’t be saving you now,” he replied, his voice rising with malice.

I lifted my chin higher, trying to appear brave, but the furious insanity in his eyes was even more apparent now. I kept my head held high. It would be detrimental at this point if he saw weakness, especially when we were arranged to be married in less than a week.

“Fuck you,” I spat.

He crossed the room in three large strides, and before I knew what was happening, he swung his arm back and backhanded me across the face. The agonizing pain shot through my jaw and the force of it was enough to toss me to the ground. I slapped my palms against the ground so that my face didn’t slam into the hardwood floor. It hurt, but I didn’t make a sound.

No one had ever raised a hand to me before. I was my father’s daughter, a mafia princess meant to be taken care of and cherished, not slapped across the face.

I was far more out of my depth than I’d realized.

“I will not tolerate disrespect!” Anton shouted. The security guards standing by the door didn’t say a word or move a single muscle. Their faces didn’t even twitch.

They’d seen this before. This wasn’t the first time Anton had raised a hand to a woman in their presence.

My father would be furious. Not only was I his only daughter, but I was a woman to be treated with care and respect, and most importantly, protected. He would have never agreed to this arranged marriage between the Morozovs and the Kozlovs if he had known Anton was like this.

Both of our families were trying to gain a foothold in Boston. Even though I was a woman, I’d helped my father strategize. The worst part of this whole arrangement was that it had been my idea in the first place. The union of our families would make us both infinitely more powerful against the more established Irish and Greek mafias, and the Cosa Nostra. At least, that had been the plan until now.

Bravely, I pushed myself up off the floor and stared at his back as he strode out of the room.

“Rot in hell. I’ll never marry you!” I exclaimed, my own voice hoarse with emotion.

He stopped, and for a moment, I worried that I’d pushed things too far, but he didn’t turn back around.

It was only after the door slammed shut behind him that I pressed my hand to my cheek, comforting the stinging flesh as I gritted my teeth with anger. Once the room had gone silent, I acknowledged the fact that a single tear had slid down my right cheek, and I prayed that he hadn’t seen it.

I would not be weak, not for scum of the Earth like him.

I pushed myself to my feet and lowered my hand. With a deep breath, I calmed my erratically beating heart and lifted my chin.

I didn’t care how or why or what I had to do, but I was going to get out of this. There were no phones in the suite, nor did I have access to a cellphone of my own, but all it would take was finding one weak link in the chain to pass a message for me to my father. Between the two of us, we could figure out how to call off this arranged marriage and potentially keep our alliance with the Kozlovs intact.

I’d figure something out. I always did.

CHAPTER1

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