Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I hear movement in my bedroom and see guards packing the rest of my clothes.
“You’re coming home,” my father barks. His face turns red as he stalks toward me. I take a step back and am absolutely stunned when he slaps me across the face. “How dare you whore yourself out to a Vetrov!”
I cover my stinging cheek with a trembling hand, anger rushing through me. “How dare you hit me!”
My father’s soldiers pour out of my bedroom. Two carry my luggage while the other three head straight for me.
I swing around and yank the door open, but I’m grabbed from behind and lifted off my feet. Letting out a scream, I try to kick and headbutt the guard whose name I don’t even know, but it’s of no use as I’m carried down the hallway.
“Let me go!” I shout angrily, the man’s touch repulsive and threatening to make all my demons come back.
“Calm the fuck down,” my father snaps. “You’re a fucking embarrassment.”
My heart is pounding out of my chest, as I’m carried out of the castle and shoved into one of the SUVs I saw parked around the fountain. My father slides in next to me, and in absolute shock, I watch as he takes a gun from the driver.
Sitting casually, the weapon pointed at me, he sneers, “Either you behave, or I’ll kill you myself, but there’s no fucking way I’m allowing a Vetrov to have my daughter.”
What. The. Fuck.
My lips part, but no words come out.
“That’s what I thought,” he mutters before barking at the driver, “Go!”
Jesus, have I just been kidnapped by my own father?
“This is ridiculous,” I protest. “You can’t–”
“I can do anything I want, Abbie. You’re my daughter.”
“I’m not your property,” I cry, my mind still reeling from what just happened.
“You are, and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better.”
“For you or me?”
His stubborn gaze locks with mine. “For you.” He lets out an angry huff. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?”
“Everything you’ve done for me?” I hiss.
“Stop with the tantrum,” he chastises me like I’m a little girl that’s upset because he won’t buy me a toy.
We stop at a different airport, and I’m once again manhandled as I'm yanked out of the car and forced onto the private jet.
“Asshole,” I snap at the guard as he shoves me down in a seat.
The second the guard turns his back on me, I dart from the chair. When he grabs me, I swing my arm back, slamming my elbow into his nose.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I shout, my body vibrating with anger.
I’m tackled from behind and fall with a hard thud. I scream with panic as my trauma rears from the darkest shadows in me. When a knee presses into my back, and my hands are tied together, the memories of the rape flash through me like a horror show.
I’m hauled from the floor like a ragdoll and shoved back into the seat. My breaths explode over my lips as I struggle to regain control over the demons.
My father shakes his head at me, the expression on his face pure disgust, as if I’m shit beneath his shoe.
The flight to Italy takes forever, and my arms are aching from being restrained by the time we touch down.
The guard I elbowed doesn’t come near me again, and a different one hoists me over his shoulder like I’m nothing but a sack of potatoes.
The touch from a strange man sends shivers of revulsion through my body.
I wait until we’re on solid ground before I slam my knee into his chest. The bastard grunts but doesn’t drop me until we reach my father’s G-Wagon. I’m tossed into the back seat, and a moment later, my father climbs in.
“I never should’ve sent you to St. Monarch’s,” he mutters.
In hindsight, it’s one of the few good things my father did for me. Otherwise, I never would’ve met Nikolai.
Nikolai.
Where the hell is my handbag?
I try to remember what happened to it, but I can’t recall.
Jesus, my phone is in that bag.
Chapter 35
Nikolai
After a thirteen-hour flight, we land in Congo for the meeting with Tshimaga. There’s no fucking signal, so I can’t call Abigail to hear if she slept well or had nightmares. The last time I spoke to her was when she landed in Switzerland, and it feels like weeks have passed, not just sixteen hours.
Christ, I hate this part of the world.
With Inna at St. Monarch’s and Mom at home, it’s just Dad and me.
And a small army, of course. I trust the diamond smugglers as far as I can throw the fuckers.
I check my bulletproof vest and my weapons, a submachine gun slung over my shoulder.
As we step off the plane, two jeeps are parked at the edge of the field. Each vehicle has a group of men on the back, all armed to the teeth.