I gulp in air after my word vomit. I wouldn’t have been able to say those words if he were facing me. Even though I’m grown now, he’s still that god-like man who finished my stepfather’s life in a blink.
Papa slowly turns around and I expect anger, but his expression remains unperturbed.
I wait for him to say something, but the door barges open and I startle. Damien waltzes inside with that black cat swagger of his.
“I’m sorry, Boss.” My father’s senior guard peeks in. “I’ll escort him out.”
Damien tilts his head in the guard’s direction. “First of all, fuck you. Second of all, fuck off before I stab you.”
Papa motions at his senior guard to leave and he snarls at Damien. “Wait in my office with the others, Orlov.”
“I just want to say something and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“What?” my father asks with a note of impatience.
“As much as I appreciate Nastyusha for being a vodka lover, I can’t marry her.”
My lips part and I stare at Damien with wide eyes. Never in my wildest dreams would I have expected him to back off. Not after he said he wouldn’t get on my father’s bad side for something he considers trivial—marriage.
“Why not?” Papa’s voice hardens.
“Remember that word I gave to Abe about marrying his daughter? I’m keeping it, after all.”
“You were fine with breaking it not too long ago.”
A dark smile lifts Damien’s lips and he looks like a fallen angel. “That was before I knew who my future wife-to-be is.”
“That doesn’t change anything, Orlov.”
“Yes, it does, Pakhan.”
“Are you choosing a Japanese over a Russian?”
“I’m choosing the Japanese for us. Believe me, you’ll like what I do with this whole fucking thing. Besides, Nastyusha loves that lawyer and I’d rather not kill a citizen and have her slice my throat in my sleep.” He grins at me. “You owe me one.”
And with that, he turns around and leaves, humming a tune.
I keep staring at his back, but that only lasts for a second, until Papa’s guard closes the door.
Before I can wrap my head around what Damien said, Papa’s clipped voice reaches me. “You’ll marry Kirill or Vladimir.”
“Papa!”
“Pick one.”
“Vlad is like my older brother.”
“Kirill then.”
“Papa, please, no. He’s even worse than Damien. Not only is he cunning and manipulative, but he’ll also only use me to become the Pakhan.”
“So be it.”
Tears slide down my face. “Is that all I’ve ever been to you? A pawn on a chessboard? A prize for the most suitable?”
He’s silent for a beat before he lets out a long exhale. “I have lung cancer, Nastyusha.”
“W-what?”
“I’m in remission, but the doctors say I could relapse at any time and I might have to start counting my days.”
The room sways but I realize it’s me as I grab onto the nearest chair and use it as support. The information he just revealed pricks my skin over and over.
Papa has cancer—or used to.
“Oh, God, is this why you wanted to marry me off that time, but Rai volunteered to do it? You wanted to pick a new Pakhan, too.”
“Yes. Only Rai and Vladimir know about my illness and we’ve kept it a secret from everyone else on purpose. I wanted to choose someone suitable for you before my time is up.”
I don’t think about it as I approach him until I’m so close, I can see how pale his skin is. Now that I think about it, right before I left, there were times when he pulled away from me and even refused to see me. And that pained me more than I admitted. It hurt to be just a wallflower in his house.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Papa?”
“Because I don’t want to hurt you.”
“But I’m your daughter. I’m supposed to take care of you.”
“You’ve always seen me as strong and powerful. That day I shot that lowlife, you looked at me as if I were a god, and I selfishly needed you to continue looking at me as such. I don’t want you to witness me weak and coughing up blood.”
“I don’t care…I just want to be there for you like you were there for me when I was young.”
He offers me his hand and I take it, sniffling back the tears. “Nastyusha…listen to me. You have to marry within the brotherhood to remain protected.”
“No, Papa, I can’t. I just can’t marry Kirill or anyone else when I’m in love with Knox. It’ll kill me slowly.”
“Nastyusha…”
“Please give him a chance, Papa. Please. You’d be surprised to see the lengths he’d go to protect me and be there for me.”
“What if he doesn’t succeed?”
“He will.” I have no doubt.
Because I realized something today.
Knox and I might belong to different worlds, but we belong together, and once we both put our minds to it, nothing can stop us.
40
KNOX
I meant what I told Anastasia. If she doesn’t call me today, I’m going back there, to the men she fears and doesn’t want to defy.
Her father will either have to give her back to me or he might as well shoot me. That’s the only way I would ever give up on her.
Fucking death.
I try to work normally, to pretend I’m a functioning human being, even though every neuron is urging me to go and find her.
Ten more hours, I tell myself.
Just ten more hours and I’ll go find her.
My desk has been crowded with cases since the Bell trials made me famous—more than before—so I have even more people wanting me to represent them. I’ll have to go through the details and choose which ones I’ll take on.
I know for sure they’re going to be cases for people like me—abused, broken, and with shadows crowding their lives twenty-four-seven. I always thought such cases weren’t good for me; they’d trigger me, which is why I turned them down.
I used to put myself first, not caring about the fate of others. But through Sandra’s case, I realized just how wrong that is. Yes, I’m allowed to feel pain, but not at the expense of ignoring theirs. I can have shadows, but I’m not supposed to be blinded to theirs.
It might have taken me some time to come to this conclusion, but better late than never.
And all of it is because of her, the woman who told me I could be a voice for those who have no voice. A bit like her, a bit like her mother.
She didn’t give up, even though she barely knew me at the beginning. She pushed on and on until I conceded.
She’s resilient that way, my Anastasia.
And now, I’m back to thinking about her, about how she begged me to leave, how she implored and insisted with those eyes that I can’t stop picturing.
It’s not lack of work that keeps me sitting in my chair, hands crossed behind my head, and staring at the ceiling.
I should’ve probably taken the day off and stalked her house, hoping the armed guards wouldn’t chop my head off.
And honestly? It’d be bloody worth it.
When I told Daniel about my plan for last night, he called me a crazy arsehole, so I might as well live up to the expectations.
The door opens and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Speak of the fucking devil.
He swings it shut with his foot and storms in my direction, holding his phone and grinning like a bloody fool.
He removes his AirPods and comes to my side, then holds the phone up. On the screen, there’s everyone from back home. Well, not literally, but most of them.
They’re gathered at a huge dinner table in the home of Jonathan King. Elsa’s father-in-law and Aiden’s father, who’s even worse than the sorry cunt.
Jonathan is sitting with his much younger wife. There’s Elsa and her shadow—sorry, husband—Aiden, and their son, Eli, who’s, unfortunately, turning out to be more and more like his father instead of his mother. It’s those destructive King genes, I swear.
Ronan and Teal are smiling at me while holding a giggling Remi, who keeps chanting, “Nokth…Nokth…”
There’s also the rest of my group of friends from secondary school, Xander and his wife Kim, and their daughter, who’s hiding her face in her father’s shirt.
The silent motherfucker with serial killer vibes, Cole, and the woman who tamed that destructive side of him, Silver.