Stupid, stupid, stupid. What the hell was I thinking? Somewhere in my head, I thought he’d understand. All I got out was I sent you to prison before his face turned to stone.

Fine, I didn’t need him. I got exactly what I wanted, which was a moment in time to remember so when Sergei worked on getting a son, I could close my eyes and feel something different. Pretend it was someone else. Something told me I’d have to dig deep to make my body believe that what I felt would be Matt. Just the memory of him inside me gave me a shudder of pleasure despite the hurt that spread through me.

As I walked through the casino to valet parking, my heart grew heavier with each step. I reminded myself that love didn’t exist. If it did, I would never survive. How could I when the thought of not seeing Matt hurt so much already?

I waited for the kid who probably just got his driver’s license to bring my Mustang forward. The red convertible was hard to miss, its growl sounding out the frustration I couldn’t. I hopped inside and took off without thought to anyone around me. Entering the strip without a glance, I nearly collided with a delivery truck that would have no doubt killed the driver and probably me.

I raced at twice the speed limit toward home. What did it matter whether I died? No one would care either way. Sergei might be the only one because he stood to lose something if I were gone.

My father might rejoice. My brother wouldn’t care one way or the other. He hated me because our mother loved me. It wasn’t that she loved him less. She loved him differently. Being so much like our father, he was a constant reminder of the man she’d learned to loathe.

I’d never given it much thought before today. Too young to understand the dynamics of the mafia, I had no idea if my mother was a pawn as well. Had she been given to my father as some kind of reward, or maybe a punishment? Had her father pissed someone off and was forced to sacrifice his daughter?

In hindsight, it made sense for her to jump from the window. Two things became clear. She was miserable. Death was her best option.

Maybe her death was a learning point for me. Would it be better to marry Sergei and suffer or run upstairs and take a header into the rose garden? As the daughter of a Russian mobster, killing myself was the only thing I could control.

I pulled up to the front of our compound and waited for the security gate to open. The hinges creaked as it slowly swung forward. How funny that I had to wait to enter my prison. It was right then I decided I didn’t want to live like this anymore. I’d had one moment with Matt—one perfect moment. Our bodies came together. He stopped being a Wilde. I stopped being a Petrenko. We were just two people finding the joy of being together. An ache in my chest gripped my heart. And the reality of what happened on the couch in Matt’s office hit me.

I hadn’t only had sex with him. I’d made love to him. There was no other reason for such pain to be in my heart. I’d fallen in love with Matt Wilde the day he saved me from my father. Now that he’d tossed me aside, there was no reason to continue my life of lies.

I pulled my car into the end stall of the garage. Even the servant’s spaces were closer. It was a visual reminder of how I stacked up in the household. Dead last. Dead was the keyword.

In the entry, Darya moved the feather duster across the iron rails of the staircase as I rushed past her.

“Good afternoon, Katya.”

“Is it?” I rushed to my room and shut the door. I wanted to crawl into bed and bury myself under the duvet, but I’d lose my courage to do what was necessary if I didn’t act now. Tomorrow held nothing for me. It would be another day like today, minus Matt. It would be unbearable.

I picked up my laptop and scrubbed all the data from it. I left it open so if Matt decided to come for a visit, all he’d see was a room as empty as my soul. I looked around at the things I had. There was nothing of importance that needed to be dealt with. Clothes and shoes had no value. The only things I cherished were memories of my mother, but those were gone too. My father made sure every hint of her was removed from the house. Everything but the last ribbon she’d put in my hair. I reached between the mattresses and pulled out the silky red strip. Frayed and worn, it had spent many nights wrapped around my hand as I cried for her.

I tied it to my wrist as a symbol of our bond. She was with me at birth, and she’d be with me at death.

I laid out the dress I hoped they’d bury me in and walked out of my room for the last time. I snuck across the hallway to my mother’s quarters. As a child, I never considered it odd that my parents had separate rooms, but now it made sense. She’d done her job. She’d given him a son. I’d been a bonus child—a spare not given an ounce of care from Yuri. I was almost twenty-five, and a quarter of a century was enough for me.

I pulled the key from the flowerpot, slid it into the lock, and walked inside. I didn’t bother to close the door. Deep down, I wanted someone to come in and beg me not to do it, but I knew no one would. I opened the sliding glass door that led to the balcony.

Mom’s roses were in full bloom, their sweet smell filling the air. I leaned over the edge. A rush of adrenaline pushed through my veins. The increased blood flow made my head spin. I could hear my heart in my ears. I climbed on top of the cement banister and let my legs dangle over the edge.

Between my thumb and finger, I rubbed the ribbon and thought about my mother. “Will you be there waiting for me?” I whispered.

I took a final glance around me. This seemed like the right decision. Love was real, but it was too painful to survive. I sat on the edge of the ledge and leaned forward. I knew once I released my hands, I’d topple off. I prayed it would be quick and painless.

Just as my right hand released, a heart-wrenching scream came from downstairs. The sound was like a wounded animal—the wails a constant sound of anguish, disturbing because I recognized my father’s voice as he yelled at God. I looked down at the roses and wondered if I’d done it and only my soul remained to watch the outcome. Was my father mourning me? One pinch to my thigh confirmed I was still here.

At the next ear-piercing cry, I climbed off the rail and ran toward his office. Was he hurt? Had Sergei tried to kill him?

Two steps at a time, I raced down the stairs, where I found him crumbled in a heap on the floor. Sergei sat stoically in a chair by the desk.

I fell to my knees. I didn’t like him much, but he was my father. “What’s wrong?” I looked over my shoulder at Sergei. His black eyes masked any emotion.

My father shoved me aside. “Get away from me.”

Scrambling back, I fell into Sergei, who pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Your brother is dead, my love. He hung himself in his cell.” He said the words like he was ordering Chinese take-out. As if it was routine to announce the death of a beloved son.

“What? No. That’s not possible. Mikhail would never do that.” I pushed and squirmed, trying to get away from his grasp, but Sergei was big and strong, and he wouldn’t let go. Tears pooled in my eyes. I imagined I looked like the grieving sister. Heartbroken that her brother was gone, but that wasn’t why I cried. My tears were spilled for me. Mikhail had beaten me once again. He’d always come in first in everything. How was I supposed to escape my life and leave my father childless? I’d been considered cold-hearted by many because I didn’t show my emotions, but today my heart was frozen. I was stuck in this miserable existence. Not even I could be so cold as to make my awful father lose both his children on the same day.

Damn you, Mikhail. He screwed up everything.

When I stopped fighting, Sergei loosened his hold on me. My father stood and walked behind his desk. If it hadn’t been for his red-rimmed eyes, I wouldn’t have known he’d been crying.

“This changes everything,” he said. He looked at me sitting on Sergei’s lap. “You will marry this week. I need an heir, and although you’re not good for much else, you can at least give me that.”

I’d never thought I could feel lower than dirt. My father had reduced me to the value of my womb. Cinders of disappointment and hurt had burned inside me for a long time, but the winds of his hatred fed it. Those cinders were rising up to become an inferno. I was tired of being nothing.

“We’ll bury your brother on Sunday morning, and you will marry on Sunday night.”

I hopped off Sergei’s lap. “No. That is not the way this is going. I refuse to have my wedding on the same day my brother is buried. If you force me to do that, I’ll be the next person you put in the ground because I’ll fight you to my death over it.”

Sergei’s hands gripped my hips, and he pulled me back to his lap. “My love is right. She deserves more than a shared celebration.”

I spun around at his use of the word 'celebration' when we were talking about burying Mikhail. A glint of light danced in his darkness. A chill went straight to my bones. While I would never be able to prove it, something told me Sergei tied that noose around my brother’s neck and yanked him to the rafters.

“She will do as she’s told,” my father snapped.

Sergei slammed his fist on the table. “She belongs to me now. She will do as I tell her.”

While the men fought over my loyalty, I slipped from Sergei’s lap and walked to the door. “I will do as I like,” I yelled. I turned to my future husband. “I will not marry you on the day of my brother’s funeral, nor will I marry you on the anniversary of my mother’s death. However, I will marry you, and I’ll give you a son because that’s what I was born to do. Once I fulfill my commitments, both of you will leave me alone.” I spun around and walked out of the room.

I took the stairs one at a time. There was no hurry to get anywhere. The door to my mother’s room was still ajar. I walked inside and looked around. Why it remained locked was a mystery. There was nothing of her inside this room but memories. Tea on the balcony. Bedtime stories while we snuggled together under her floral bedspread. I didn’t need a room to keep those memories alive. They lived inside me. They reminded me that once someone had actually loved me.

“Ms.,” Darya spoke behind me. “You shouldn’t be in here with your father home. He won’t be pleased.”

I laughed. Despite all the surrounding sadness, I found humor in her words. “Darya, he’s never been pleased. Why should he start now?” I walked to the bed. “Where is Sergei staying?”

She lowered her head, and a blush rose to her cheeks. It seemed that all women but me found him appealing. “He’s in the south wing with his men.”

I ran my hand over the soft blue comforter. “He shall move in here.”

“Do you have permission to move him?”

I stalked toward her, and she stepped back. “I don’t need permission. I’m a damn Petrenko, and if I want my fiancé moved closer to me, it better happen. Don’t think for a moment Sergei won’t be ruling this kingdom. You better cater to the new king. Never forget, I’m his queen.”

I moved like a violent storm across the hallway and slammed my door. I was tired of being a babbling brook. Fury whirled inside me, turning me into a fierce raging river.

I changed into the dress I’d hoped to be buried in. While my father planned my brother’s funeral, I dressed in four-inch heels and a little black dress.

I had a damn wedding to plan, and it was time to go shopping. I’d have the rest of my life to mourn, but today I was celebrating because by not dying, I was reborn. The world better move aside because Katya Petrenko was here to stay, and I’d take no prisoners.