Page 58 of The Dancer and the Grumpy Billionaire

“Whatever,” I say. “She wanted freedom. She came to ask you for freedom. She loves you; she just wants to have a life. She wants to make her own choices. Have a family. She wants to disappear into the crowd and do things she chooses, not things other people choose for her.”

Sasha chuckles. “And here you move her around, choose for her.”

“I understand the irony of that,” I answer.

He chuckles again, sucking at his teeth as he grabs another weathered chair and sits across from me.

“My wife was goddess,” he says. “Most beautiful woman on planet. I had to have her. She was dancer like Galina. I saw her on stage and knew we would marry. Others would have had her, but she was mine.”

I arch an eyebrow at his choice of words. I wonder if Gigi’s mother really wanted to be with Sasha or if she, too, was his prisoner.

“Many threats have been made to me, but none worse than threatening my wife. I had guards with her always, so manyguards. And still, I went away for a week and came home to my wife ripped apart in her bed. Gigi was at boarding school, but I sent Vera with her across the ocean. I would not let someone take my beautiful daughter as well.”

“What a hero,” I say sarcastically, earning a punch in the face.

“I gave her a life,” he argues. “I gave her new name and a place on stage. I stayed away to keep her safe. She had a chance to live.”

“With no friends. Without being able to take a walk without a bodyguard?”

“It was best I could offer.”

“Why not just let her go? Let her live her life under a different name? She could be safe with me. I could keep her safe.”

“Mmmf,” he grunts, shrugging.

“Where is she?” I ask.

“I am considering her fate,” he says. He tilts his head from side to side and sighs heavily. “I think, perhaps, it is better to lose her on my own terms. To know it was quick, not painful.”

I struggle against my restraints. “You fucking coward!”

This time, he hits me with the butt of his gun. The blow to my temple makes my teeth rattle, stars in my vision.

The man stands. At least, I think he stands. My vision is blurry.

“Shoot him in gut,” he instructs. “Will take longer to die.”

Sasha walks out the door and I brace for the shot.

“I’m sorry, Gigi,” are my last words.

CHAPTER 27

Galina

My nails are all I can see. Ripped apart and caked with blood, I keep moving, crawling through brush and brambles that cut my face and tear at my clothes.

I feel so heavy, my body leaden as I use every ounce of energy to pull myself to somewhere more visible, to stay conscious enough to find help.

When I finally feel a hard surface, I sob uncontrollably, lying face down in the gravel. My body gives way and I know I can go no further. All I can do is hope someone finds me.

My own father shot me. I met him for brunch, which meant he was already in the area. They were that close when we left St. Bart’s. Close enough to follow us to Brazil. I begged him to let me be free, to let me disappear and live my life with Vasily.

He laughed at my request. He would never let such a thing happen. He would rather marry me off to one of his allies than to let me run off with some filthy Ukrainian spy. We argued and when I tried to get up and leave, he had one of his men grab me. We got in a car and drove to some remote place, where I sat in the car with a guard as my father wandered deep into the woods,only to come back out with a swollen hand and a smirk on his face.

As we pulled away, I heard the shot and I knew.

Vasily was gone.

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