Three days and she was still pissed at him.
It didn’t matter how often he said it was for the best—that it was only temporary until he got a bead on Vasily and put an end to that threat—she refused to speak to him. And even when she did, her words were stilted with anger lacing her voice.
Despite wanting to make it right with her, he knew where his focus needed to be. So he let her stew as he and Alfie worked. And now, finally, he had some answers.
But it was also today that Violet seemed to be at her worst. It could be because he was finally leaving her alone instead of trying to get her to talk to him for the first time, or it could have been because she was going back to Alberto’s the next day.
Either way, the second time their bedroom door slammed shut, Kaz had to squeeze his eyes shut and count backward from five. She was deliberately trying to rile him up, he knew, and he had elected to ignore it the first time.
But now, it was getting too hard to ignore.
And when another door slammed, Kaz got to his feet, leaving his office in a flurry of motion as he took the stairs nearly two at a time.
Though only home for a few days, he was already feeling better, and though the wound on his neck was nearly healed, he was still quite careful with it.
Twisting the handle of the door, Kaz shoved it open, just in time to see Violet tossing a suitcase out of the closet with a loud thud. Next came clothes, shoes, and even a few purses. While some landed on top of the suitcase, more landed on the floor around it.
Violet walked out the closet, hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders, dressed in that delicate lingerie she usually wore to bed with him. No, she wasn’t playing fair at all.
Noticing him, she came up short when she saw him, but that surprise quickly morphed to anger as she went on, pretending he wasn’t there.
“Want to tell me what you’re doing?” he asked.
“I’m packing,” she snapped, getting to her knees to shove clothes inside without any attempt at order. “What does it look like?”
Violet rarely got pissed at him, not like this, but he was starting to realize that this wasn’t like those times. There was a chance, if this didn’t pan out the way he’d hoped, that she wouldn’t forgive him.
As he stepped further into the room, however, his gaze drifting down to the way her lace shorts rode up. Giving him a tantalizing view of tan skin, he wasn’t concerned about her anger. Not anymore.
“Are you taking the door with you? You seem intent on taking it off its fucking hinges.”
One minute, he was staring at her ass, and the next minute, she was spinning around and getting to her feet, crossing the floor until she could get a hand on his chest and push.
“Fuck off, Kaz.”
He almost smiled. “Let’s not say things we don’t mean.”
Kaz caught her hand before she could push him again, holding tight as she tried to jerk free. “Trust me. I mean it.”
“It could only be a matter of days, Violet. There’s no need—”
“Or it could be weeks,” she said cutting him off. “Months. You don’t know.”
“But I do know in that time, I won’t have to worry about anything happening to you.”
Violet rolled her eyes, this time successfully pulling her hand free. “Maybe not physically.”
“Yes,” he said reaching for her, wanting her to understand. “But anything else I can fix. Because if Vasily gets his hands on you, Violet, he’s not going to let you live. And that, I can’t fix.”
“Anywhere. Anywhere but there.”
Tugging her forward, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before saying, “I’ll give you anything but that.”
There was sadness in her eyes as she turned back to what she was doing. Kaz hated that fucking look. He wanted to wipe it from her expression the moment he saw it, but how could he?
Despite her feelings on the matter, it was the best thing for the both of them, and he was sticking to that.
He was moving before he even thought it through, wrapping an arm around Violet’s waist and yanking her up off the floor. She gave a slight cry of surprise as he dropped her on the bed, fingers wrapping around her calves to drag her back down.
“It’s happening whether you like it or not, Violet,” he said softly, even as he tugged at the straps of the outfit she wore. “But I can help you forget—if only for this night.”
“Kaz, that won’t—”
He shut her up with a kiss, lightly stroking the seam of her lips with his tongue. All too quickly, she stopped resisting in his hold, her hands coming up to cradle his face. But he didn’t let her get comfortable, pulling away after a moment to finish dragging the material down her body then over his shoulder.
A quick tap on her leg had her spreading her thighs the way he liked, showing him exactly where he longed to be. Despite her willingness to open herself to him, she wasn’t giving in, not yet. He still saw the fight in her eyes.
Getting to his feet, Kaz yanked at the knot in his tie until he got the thing loose, letting it drop to the floor as he started on the buttons of his shirt. Her eyes dropped to his chest, and that aggression shifted to lust.
Now, that was a look he didn’t mind.
By the time his shirt was at his feet, his gaze had traveled the length of her body then back up again. When he started for his belt, she moved to get up, intent on helping him, but he gave a sharp shake of his head.
“If you want something to touch, touch your pussy for me.”
A shuddering exhale left her as she settled back on the bed, fingers diving between her legs to do as he asked. She wasn’t shy, never had been—and Kaz was glad for it. Once he got his pants off, he climbed up onto the bed opposite her where he had ample view of what she was doing.
Violet’s eyes widened as he drew closer, that plump bottom lip of hers disappearing between her teeth. But the moment he got his cock free of the restricting cotton of his boxer-briefs, her gaze dropped and stayed there.
He could see his hunger reflected in her expression, the way her fingers sped up a bit as they rubbed her clit. Grasping his length and dragging his fist up and down, that familiar adrenaline raced through him, but he didn’t give in to that need to just fuck her until nothing was left of either of them.
No, he wanted to drag this out because even he didn’t know when the next time would be—too long for his liking.
The fingers of his free hand sifted through blond hair before he held the strands tight in his fight and could turn her head the way he wanted. “No, no, I didn’t say stop,” he said softly when her fingers had stopped as she concentrated on what he was doing.
But his words were enough to stir her back into action, even as her lips parted. Angling his cock toward her mouth, he gave a single command. “Suck me.”
A desperate moan left her as she closed her lips around him, her eyes drifting closed as she did so. Heat shot down his spine as she took more of his cock into her mouth. Fist tight in her hair, he guided her motions, slow on the downslide, quick coming back up.
Every time she moaned, the sound made his balls tighten as he resisted the urge to fuck her mouth harder. When he reached for the hand busy between her thighs and pulled it away, he felt the shiver move through her as she began sucking harder, as if she was trying to drag him over the edge before he was ready.
Laying a hand on her stomach, he felt the muscles there jump a moment before he was sliding it down, his fingers slipping through her drenched folds. It was a test of his control not to grab her right then, but as he easily pushed two fingers into her pussy and felt her clamp down around his digits, he got himself under control.
This was what he wanted.
She grasped at him, nails digging into his flesh as she took his cock deeper in her throat. She was mindless, too focused on the sensations to worry about anything else.
“This was what you wanted, hmm?” Kaz pushed his fingers a little deeper. Rubbing his thumb over her clit, he loved the way her skin was flushed and trembling. “If you want me to fuck you, you only have to ask.”
She was going to come.
He felt it in the way her pussy tightened around his fingers and the moans reverberating through his cock. But he needed to hear it—needed to hear every last shuddering moan.
Pulling free from her mouth, he sped up the thrusts of his fingers, her keen whine echoing in the space around them, like music to his fucking ears. Her back arched, her hands fisting the cover.
But it just wasn’t enough—the need that was driving him was only spiking higher. Drawing forward, he had his fingers on her throat before she could take another breath.
“Tell me, krasivaya. Tell me how badly you want my cock.”
She knew how much he loved when she begged for it—how her soft pleas drove him crazier than anything else did.
“Please, Kaz.”
He could hear the desperation in her voice, could feel the need churning through her—an ache he couldn’t wait to soothe.
Pulling free from her, he dragged her into the position he wanted then grabbed the base of his cock. He rubbed the length of it up her dripping sex, gritting his teeth as her hips undulated beneath him.
But he didn’t push inside her, not yet—not until she was whispering his name like a prayer. Leaning down, he kissed her hard, even as he eased his cock inside the tight, wet heat of her pussy.
Swallowing the ragged moan that clawed its way from her throat, he buried himself inside her. It was fucking torture holding himself there, her clenching muscles practically screaming for him to let go and just fuck her.
But he wouldn’t, not yet.
Instead, he dragged his hips back with aching slowness—until just the head was pressed into her before he was shoving his hips forward, even as he dragged her down to meet him.
And when he felt the searing pain of her nails dragging down his back, the careful lock he had on his control snapped. Tearing his mouth away from her, he thrust hard, the sensation of her squeezing him so tightly making the fingers at her neck tighten just slightly.
Every time he sunk into her, his name fell from her lips until her words jumbled. Endless cries spilled free as he fucked her the way she wanted. His need for her was almost too much, the need to come already clawing at him.
Finally releasing the hold he had on her neck, he dipped his hand between her legs, rubbing fast circles over her clit. “Come on, give it here.”
Violet trembled violently beneath him, but it wasn’t until he was at her ear telling her how good she was at taking his cock, and how hard she was going to come for him. When her lips parted on a silent scream, the sudden clamping of tight muscles made him curse.
She was fucking beautiful when she came.
But it was the way she called his name, such lost abandon in her voice that made him finally give in, giving one last brutal thrust of his hips before he came hard.
There was peace in that moment.
Just the two of them.
And everything was good.
The Gallucci mansion stood tall and foreboding in front of Violet.
Looming might have been a more accurate description.
Like hell was just waiting to welcome her back, its gates not yet opened to allow her inside.
The actual gates of the mansion were, in fact, closed, but she knew her arrival had already been noticed, announced, and apparently, refused. Her father, or one of his men, could have opened the gates for her the very second she stepped out of the black SUV with a suitcase in hand.
But Alberto hadn’t allowed the gates to be open.
He wasn’t allowing her back in.
Violet wasn’t surprised—her father’s lack of joy over her arrival wasn’t unexpected. It made her sick to her stomach to even think about it all, but her father was doing exactly what she thought he would when she returned to him.
Even if it was in his own, awful way.
Making her wait.
He probably thought she was silently begging to be let off the side of the street.
And maybe Violet was doing that in a way, except she wished she could turn around and leave more than she wanted anything else in the world.
Violet’s hand tightened around the handle of her suitcase, keeping her rooted in place. With her other hand holding onto her purse, she could resist the urge to touch her stomach, an action she knew would end badly for her if her father got even the slightest inkling that she was pregnant.
More than anything else—above all the lies she would need to tell and the things she would have to fake—the pregnancy was sacred.
Secret.
Something she knew would be entirely unforgivable to her father.
He could hide many things. He could scrub Violet’s misdeeds and wrongdoings away with money and silent glares. He could make it look like her marriage had never existed—like Kaz had never even happened.
But nothing—absolutely nothing—would scrub away the pregnancy.
No matter what kind of man her father was, he was still a devout Catholic at heart. Termination of the pregnancy wouldn’t even be in his vocabulary. Not even a forced abortion, as Violet sure as hell wouldn’t agree to a consenting termination.
And the moment she had the child, there would be no hiding anything.
So if Alberto found out, he’d only have one option.
To kill her.
Or … Violet believed he would do it.
The car driven by a one of Kaz’s men had dropped her off more than ten minutes ago, and the man hadn’t lingered on the outskirts of the Gallucci property. He’d even squealed the fucking tires when he drove off, leaving Violet staring like an idiot at her childhood home.
Except now … now, she wondered if it had ever really been a home to her.
Maybe at one point it had.
Now, it just felt like a slow death.
The buzzing of the speaker on the pillar attached to the gate brought Violet slamming out of her thoughts. She tried not to show her nerves as a familiar voice crackled through the speaker, knowing damn well security cameras were trained on her every single move.
Alberto thrived best when he could spot a person’s weakness.
Violet couldn’t give him that.
God knew she was about to give him everything else.
“What can I do for you?” Alberto asked through the speaker.
“I …” Violet damn near choked on the words, well aware of what her father would expect her to say. She needed to make this believable and not like bigger plans were in the works. Alberto had to believe whatever Violet fed to him, even if he couldn’t trust her now. That was a whole other hurdle to jump. “I want to come home.”
Somehow, by the grace of fucking God, her voice didn’t shake.
“I can’t say that this is your home,” her father said, the barest hint of amusement coloring his words.
Violet swallowed back the rising sickness. “Isn’t it?”
“No one by your name has lived here before.”
She blinked, confused.
What game was her father playing now?
“But—”
“Your name?” Alberto interrupted.
“You know my name.”
“I certainly knew of your name, girl.”
Jesus.
Violet decided to try a different tactic, no matter how disgusted it made her to use it. “Daddy, please.”
Alberto let out a sharp laugh before saying again, “Your name?”
“Violet!”
“Oh, no. I want your full name.”
Force of habit and nothing more made her say, “Gallucci. Violet Gall—”
“Wrong,” Alberto snapped before she could even finish.
Violet quickly realized her mistake, flinching visibly from the unhidden rage in her father’s voice. No, he was not going to give this to her easy at all. He was going to make her work for it.
“Try again,” Alberto urged, back to his calmer self.
Sometimes, it frightened Violet how fast her father’s moods could turn. She had never really been on the receiving end of his mood swings before, but she had the distinct feeling that, at least for the next little while, her father’s unhappiness would be solely focused on only her.
“Violet?”
She sucked in a deep breath, needing the bit of relief it gave her.
She could do this.
Surely, she could do whatever Alberto wanted for as long as she needed to.
After all, she’d done it for years before this moment without really knowing it. It wasn’t that different.
“Markovic,” Violet whispered.
“Louder.”
Violet clenched her teeth but still forced out, “Violet Markovic.”
Her father couldn’t have possibly known, but she stressed her new surname with pride, and not the remorse or even disgust that he would have wanted to hear from her. He couldn’t know because she was careful to keep the heat out of her tone and the fire from her gaze. No, she kept her expression neutral as she handed her father exactly what he wanted.
Proof she was a deserter of their family.
Proof she’d betrayed him.
Proof she was no longer his.
The speaker buzzed again, but Violet didn’t hear a response from her father. The gate didn’t open, either.
“Daddy?” Violet asked.
Silence answered her back from the speaker.
Frustrated, Violet glared at the mansion just a short drive away from behind the gate set atop its small hill overlooking its empire of sorts. At least, she suspected that was how her father saw his home and property.
Violet waited another two minutes before she decided she’d had enough of her father’s games. She just turned on her heel, ready to walk the hell away and get to a phone where she could call Kaz, when movement in the corner of her eye stopped her from turning her back completely.
The front door of the mansion opened, a dark form hovering in the entrance before stepping out onto the marble slab.
She’d recognize his posture anywhere, even if he was so far away.
Her father.
Alberto took the length of the stairs leading down to the paved driveway slowly. No one followed behind him as he made his way closer to Violet’s spot. She knew her father had men who patrolled his property, yet she didn’t see any materialize as he took his sweet time walking the long length of the downhill driveway.
Like he wasn’t the least bit afraid of her or what might be waiting for him.
And when he got closer, the expression on his face made her think he might almost be welcoming to whatever she had brought along.
Except there was nothing. Violet had nothing.
She was entirely alone.
Alberto came to a stop on the other side of the iron gate, staring up at the slightly overcast sky. But even with the clouds, the barest hint of the sun peeked out, streaking yellow over the gray.
“I believe it’s going to rain,” Alberto said.
Violet shifted in her shoes, feeling cold although it wasn’t cold at all.
Then again, that could just be her current situation manifesting itself.
Smiling ever so slightly, Alberto turned his attention back to Violet. “What do you want, dolcezza? Surely, the last time we spoke was the … end, sì? You certainly made your feelings more than clear, Violet.”
Lies were on the ready, waiting to fall off her tongue.
Whatever Alberto wanted to hear.
Whatever he needed to believe her.
Whatever she had to do for Kaz.
That was it.
Alberto, however, didn’t even let her talk, already speaking again before she could get a word in edgewise. “And yet there you are, suitcase in hand, looking like someone just took your favorite toy away. Is that it? Was your toy taken away, Violet?”
Violet stood a little straighter, feeling like every look her father leveled on her was like acid dripping onto her very skin. “No.”
“No?”
“No,” she repeated. “They didn’t take him away.”
That wasn’t a lie. Not entirely.
Kaz had been the one to choose this.
Violet was the one who hadn’t been given a choice.
“Do tell,” Alberto said, smiling in that cold way of his.
“He doesn’t want me—he’s not the …”
Again, she hesitated.
On this lie, she would always hesitate.
Alberto’s smile grew into a sly grin. “The same? Was that what you were about to say to me? Your toy isn’t the same as he was?”
Violet had to beat back the urge to glare. “He doesn’t want me.”
Her father let out a sigh, looking far too pleased with himself. After another agonizing minute of silence, Alberto lifted his hand toward the house like he was waving at someone. Except there was no one there.
Still, she heard the telltale buzz and the clanging of the gate as it electronically unlatched and slowly began to spread wide open. Alberto took a single step back, allowing the iron gate to open completely, leaving Violet feeling more exposed than ever.
This was what she needed to do.
This was what she needed for her father to do.
Now, more than ever, she just wanted to fucking run.
“Are you going to stand there all day?” Alberto asked.
Without her permission, Violet felt her legs move, taking her closer to her father and dragging her suitcase behind her. A man she trusted less than the dirt under her boots.
When she was close enough to Alberto that he could reach out and grab her if he wanted, Violet finally stopped. But her father was already turning away, walking toward the Gallucci mansion.
Behind them, the gates began to close.
Despite not wanting to be anywhere near the mansion or her father, Violet hurried to catch up. She didn’t have much of a choice.
Halfway up the driveway, Alberto still hadn’t said a thing. They were in full view of the entire mansion and all the floor-to-ceiling windows, as well as the property. Violet had no doubt eyes were watching them—her mother, likely, and probably some of her father’s men. Someone was always around.
Suddenly, with absolutely no warning, Alberto’s hand landed hard on the back of Violet’s neck, making her stumble in her walk, drop her bags, and let out a quiet yelp of pain as his fingers dug deep into her skin. Violet’s hand flew up to where her father’s was still squeezing the back of her neck far too tightly.
Alberto chuckled, forcing her to look up at him as he smiled, baring his teeth in the process. It looked far more like a sneer, and Violet’s blood ran cold as she stilled under his rough handling.
“Before we take even one more step, Violet,” Alberto started to say, “I want to make one thing clear. Had you been anyone else and put a gun in my face, I would have had your body parts scattered across New York for the crows to pick apart and eat. It is only my love for you that I gave you a pass—and that is all it was. Just a pass, girl. You’re now on thinner ice than you could possibly know where I am concerned.”
Oh, she knew.
She knew perfectly well.
“Where are they?” Alberto asked.
Violet swallowed hard. “Where is what?”
“Your wedding ring—that engagement ring, too.”
Silently, Violet tossed up a prayer that Kaz had asked to hold onto the jewelry just in case because if the way her father was looking at her was any indication, he planned to do nothing good to the rings.
“He took them from me,” Violet said, a quake in her voice and wetness in her eyes.
It wasn’t a lie.
She had never been very good at lying to Alberto.
He always seemed to know.
The sneer Alberto sported melted away, leaving a frown in its wake. “Then I suppose you know now, don’t you?”
“Know what?”
“What this feels like,” Alberto murmured sadly. “How much it hurts inside your soul when something you love betrays you. I gave you everything and look at what you did to me. Look at what he’s done to you. And for what? What do you have now?”
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
That time, it was a lie.
Alberto didn’t seem to notice, thankfully.
He was too lost in his own thoughts.
“Well, my dear, we’ll see about that. And if you aren’t truly sorry, you certainly will be.” Alberto let her go with no forewarning, adding, “You might as well leave those bags where they are, Violet.”
She straightened quickly, putting a few steps between her and Alberto. “But it’s my things and—”
“You won’t need them. They came from him. And like everything else he gave you, it too will go away in time. I’ll burn it for all I give a damn. You can even watch.”
What had they done?