Violet awakened slowly; pain bloomed in all different spots of her body, but it focused the most on her jaw and her lower back. She blinked, but only blackness stared back at her.
Confusion settled deep into her stomach as fear welled in her heart.
Sliding her hands along the floor, dirt and grime smeared against her palms. Letting out a painful whine as she pushed herself up, she ignored the nausea swelling in her throat and the haziness in her vision.
Where the fuck was she?
She couldn’t see anything.
“Kaz!”
Her shout echoed.
Like a giant hole of nothingness surrounded her.
Panic settled in deep as she tried to stand, but she only became even more disoriented on her feet. Because she wasn’t even sure what the fuck she was standing on. All the blackness staring back at her gave nothing away.
There was no light.
A damp smell.
She reached out for the wall and came up with air.
Violet’s tears welled, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the anxiety to calm enough for her to think. As a child, she’d hated small places. She’d hated the dark even more.
She vividly remembered a nanny her mother had hired when she was about six who had once locked her in a small closet while playing hide and seek by accident. She’d fallen asleep waiting for the nanny to find her, and when she’d woken up surrounded by darkness and in a small space, she’d quite literally had a meltdown that shook the whole wing of the mansion with her screams.
Apparently, her father and others had been searching for her, thinking she had somehow gotten outside and past the security.
It took them hours to realize she was still in the house, locked in that fucking closet.
Violet never saw that nanny again.
Even now, as an adult, that memory still clung to her mind whenever she woke to darkness and nothing else.
Violet opened her eyes, knowing she wouldn’t see anything staring back at her. She forced back the anxiety and ignored the throbbing in her eye as she put her hands out in front of her and walked forward. It was only a few steps before her hands came up against something solid. Feeling around the space, she felt four walls and, eventually, a goddamn door.
One with no knob.
Or so it seemed.
There was also no light switch.
The more Violet searched and came up with no way out of whatever fucking box she was in, the worse her panic became until she was gasping for breath and sobbing.
Another memory bubbled up hard and fast as she beat her fists against the door and screamed her frustrations. Maybe it was the musty smell of the place that did it—like rotting garbage and heat rolled into one. Or maybe it was the smell of paint in the air like someone had recently put a layer of paint over the old batch.
But what color would they have painted it being as dark as it was?
Black.
The Black Hall.
Her father’s threat all those many months ago …
Alberto had clearly changed his plans. Kaz was not the one inside the Black Hall.
She was.
Violet’s backside met the floor as she pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes, willing away the tears and wishing she could calm down enough to figure out a way out of there.
No one would hear her, she remembered her father saying.
The place was a maze.
Violet just … cried.
As time ticked on, Violet found she was more confused than ever because she didn’t know how long she had even been there. She heard no sounds, saw no light, and couldn’t distinguish time to say what had already passed since she woke up.
How long had she been in there before that point?
The sounds in the darkness were the worst. A creak of a floor, the drip from above, and the squeak behind the door she rested against.
They played games with her thoughts, making her think someone was there, someone could hear her, if only she screamed just a little bit louder, maybe.
But no one came.
She didn’t realize how hard she was crying until that was all she could hear.
Just her own breaths.
Her own sobs.
Her own fingers dragging across the floor …
Her sounds were so loud that she didn’t hear the voices echoing from behind the door until whoever it was, was beating on the wood.
“Violet … krasivaya … I’m right here, yes? It’s fine. Violet!”
She heard Kaz’s voice through her panic, shredding away those fears that had been eating her alive. She managed to slide away from the door when he ordered her to, and then wood gave way to more darkness.
But there was light.
From phones. And a flashlight, it seemed.
Violet only saw Kaz coming for her.
And the darkness went away.
It was never supposed to be this easy.
Kaz knew it the moment he had gotten into the building, ready to kill everything in sight if it meant getting to Violet before anything could happen to her. Sure, a few people died, and Rus even took a bullet in the shoulder, but they had ultimately been able to get Violet out without much harm.
Besides the black eye that was making him want to do murder, she was no worse for wear.
Too easy.
Vasily had been nowhere to be found, and despite sending men over every inch of the Black Hall, there was still no sign of him.
Kaz was more frustrated than ever, not liking to leave Vasily in the wind, especially after what he had just done to Violet. His father wasn’t one to back down, and Kaz was sure this wouldn’t be the last he saw of him.
But for now, he had Violet—and that was all he needed.
In the back of the Escalade, Violet stretched out across the seat, her head in his lap as he gently stroked her hair. He didn’t ask her to break the silence, leaving her to her thoughts for the moment. He wasn’t sure of what all had happened in that place, but he wasn’t going to rush her to tell him—Vasily was going to die regardless. The details would only let him know how bloody to make it.
He didn’t take them back to his place, and once he was in the mood to deal with it, he was getting rid of it entirely, a task that should have been done long before now.
Instead, he took her to one of the many gifts he had bought her for the wedding.
The mansion was meant to be a surprise he would show her once he was free long enough to show her, but as of now, it was the best place for her to be since no one knew about it.
As they drove through the gates and up the mile-long driveway, Kaz thought of everything he would have to handle the moment he stepped foot off the property.
Vasily was at the top of his list, and whether his father wanted to admit it or not, he wouldn’t stop—not until he was dead and in the ground.
Then there was his burgeoning problem with the Italians. After his show of force, war was imminent, and nothing was going to call the Italians off him now. But Kaz knew that was inevitable. Even if not for Violet, Alberto would have wanted to make an example out of him regardless.
Sometimes, all it took was a spark, and Kaz had given him one.
But as the SUV rolled to a stop, and he had the back door opened as he helped Violet out of the car and held her in his arms, he didn’t care.
The only thing he cared about at that moment was his wife.
Violet buried her face in Kaz’s jacket, tucking her arms in around his sides, and decided she liked it there just fine. She didn’t care who was watching because, right then, she needed her safe place.
Kaz, from the moment she met him, had been that place.
“I called him a fucking idiot,” Violet mumbled.
Kaz tensed briefly, but then his arms tightened around her frame. “Vasily?”
“Yes.”
He made a sound that came off somewhere between appreciation and concern, however he managed it. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard someone call my father that and live to tell about it.”
Violet scowled. “He hit me.”
Kaz didn’t respond, but his disgusted grunt was more than enough for her to know he was pissed and ready to kill.
Peeking over his shoulder, Violet found the place where they had finally arrived. The large mansion sat atop a slightly raised hill, looming high above everything around it. Victorian pillars framed the marble entrance, the paved walkway giving way to a stone path shortly before the stairs.
Violet blinked, unsure of what she was seeing.
“Who lives here?” she asked.
Kaz drew her impossibly closer, turning them at the same time but keeping her tucked into his side. His hand tangled into her hair, tipping her head to the side enough for him to press a kiss to her mouth.
“We do—will—as of now,” Kaz said quietly.
Violet just stared at the mansion, taking in the little details and the empty driveway. Glancing behind them, she found cars parked behind their SUV, and men standing at the vehicles, waiting and unmoving.
Some she recognized from the wedding.
Others she just knew—like Ruslan.
“Ours?”
Kaz smiled down at her. “What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t give you the house of your dreams, hmm?”
Violet swallowed hard, clenching her hands into his jacket and holding him to her side. He wasn’t going fucking anywhere if she had any say about it. Not after today.
“When?” she asked.
“It’s been in the works for a while,” he admitted.
Because he’d always known where they were going, she realized.
He’d never wanted anything different.
Violet’s lips split into a wide grin, despite the pain it caused in her eye. Kaz instantly took note of her flinch, his hand coming up to stroke her cheekbone just below the bruise she must have sported.
“This won’t happen again,” he promised.
Violet nodded but said nothing.
What could she say?
Whose fault had it been?
Not hers or his.
Not really.
“Can we go inside?” Violet asked.
Kaz’s concern melted away as he turned back to the mansion with a wave of his hand. “It’s all yours, krasivaya. Welcome home.”
Violet let him lead her into the house, noting the security features it took to actually get the front door open, and then she proceeded to spend the next hour and a half exploring the mostly furnished mansion.
And it was beautiful.
Perfect, even.
Violet wasn’t even surprised.
“Violet?”
She glanced up from the black marble countertop she’d been admiring as Kaz leaned in the kitchen entryway with two men standing behind him. Ruslan was one, and the other was someone she didn’t recognize at all.
But guessing by his rolled up sleeves and his lack of tattoos, Violet guessed the man wasn’t like Kaz or Ruslan at all.
“Yeah?”
Kaz nodded his head toward the unknown man. “He’s going to check you over, just to make sure everything is … fine. Yes?”
Violet’s gaze flicked between the softly smiling man and Kaz. “I am fine.”
“Indulge me.”
It didn’t seem like Kaz was going to give her a choice as he turned, leaving with Ruslan on his heel while the other man stayed behind.
The man took a step into the kitchen, a black bag in hand.
“I hear you had a … spill,” he said.
Violet raised a single brow. “Right into someone’s fist.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Funny, they’re never so blatant about what happened when I ask.”
“Not your first rodeo?”
“Not even my fiftieth,” he responded in kind.
Violet knew then that the man was likely a doctor on the Bratva’s payroll. Even her father had one or two to take care of things on the down low or late at night when no one wanted to make a trip to the ER.
“What’s your name?” Violet asked as the man put his bag on the island counter.
“You can call me Doc. Everyone else does.”
“I’d prefer a name.”
The man smiled. “Brian.”
“Brian, then,” she said. “I’m fine. As you can see.”
“Let me decide that,” Brian replied. “Sit up on the stool. I just want to check your vision and your memory. A few simple questions to make sure you’re not concussed. I’ll check your eye to be sure the bone isn’t cracked or bruised too badly. And unless there’s something else you want me to look at …”
He trailed off, offering nothing more.
Violet understood well enough without an explanation. “I wasn’t touched.”
“Good—up on the stool.”
Brian’s no-nonsense demeanor was the only reason Violet chose not to argue with the man. That and she figured if she let him do his business, he could reassure Kaz she was, in fact, fine, and he would worry less.
Sitting on the stool, Violet followed the doctor’s orders, watching his finger move from side to side and up and down. He asked her birthdate, where she’d gone to high school, and even her wedding date when he noticed the rings on her finger. He then asked more recent questions like what she had for breakfast and the last vehicle she had driven.
Then he asked a question that made her pause.
“Last menstrual cycle?”
Violet stopped watching the little light he was shining into her eyes. “Why does that matter?”
Brian smiled. “It’s a common question for checkups, I suppose. And nearly all women can answer it, so it’s something to add to the list of semi-recent events that may have been forgotten if you were concussed. Not that I think you are, clearly. You answered everything else fine.”
But not that question.
Because Violet wasn’t sure.
The longer she stayed quiet, counting days in her head and realizing she’d missed appointments with her New York doctor while in Chicago, the stranger she felt. That was why she’d been heading over to the clinic that morning, to update her birth control shot and have her regular checkup.
That strange feeling wouldn’t leave.
A little nervous.
Out of breath.
Hot in her blood.
Terrified.
Excited …
“Violet?” the doctor asked. “You’ve gone quiet on me.”
She didn’t think there was anything else to say or tell.
At least not to the doctor.