Mikhail watched as fear entered her gaze before she pulled herself together and hardened her features against her father as they drew nearer. She had every right to be angry, but her father had no idea that she was aware of his agreement with Mikhail’s father.
Watching them approach from the corner of his eyes, he paced back and forth, and moved closer to India, and hissed, “Your father can’t know that you listened at his door,” between his teeth.
Her startled blue eyes briefly met his before she looked away, swallowing back her anguish. Tears glistened on her lashes and when one slowly fell down the smooth skin of her pale cheek, he wanted nothing more than to kiss it away. Instead he stepped back and continued his pacing, stopping only when his father stood directly in front of him, a dark frown on his face.
“Hmm,” his father murmured as though he knew something. “It’s like that is it?” He tipped his head to the side, anger narrowed his eyes, and his mouth tightened into a thin line.
To others, his father’s stare could be deadly, but Mikhail had become immune, his father liked to exercise his power because he knew that he had everyone exactly where he wanted them; at his beck and call.
Everything in him tightened with the need to knock his father down. His father knew it as well. While his father tried to see inside of him, Mikhail wondered what his father had seen of his interaction with India, while he’d been approaching the rose garden. He could only see the second floor of the house so he was sure that he’d had privacy with India.
“We’ll see,” his father said from the corner of his mouth as he stepped around him.
He inhaled so that he didn’t say anything that would cause more harm than good and when he slowly exhaled, he turned and watched the whole charade.
This wasn’t the first time that his father had paid for a woman, but it was the first time that Mikhail had ever cared deeply enough to want to put a stop to it.
His father wanted the woman before him and he had a sneaky suspicion that he wanted her indefinitely. That didn’t bode well with Mikhail, because she was the woman that he needed.
His father in his dark grey three-piece suit, held his hand out for India who looked at it with disgust before she quickly schooled her features.
Her chest rose as she deeply inhaled and then she offered her hand, which his father snatched up with his much larger one. He brought it to his mouth and watched her response as he left a lingering kiss to the back of her hand. The hand that she held down at her side clenched into a tight fist between the folds of her white dress, while her gaze moved to his.
“How are you, my precious India?” his father spoke in a tone that left no room for objection. She was his and he knew it, which made him confident.
India shivered and kept silent.
“India,” her father snapped, causing her to jump backward, obviously using the unexpected sharp tone as an excuse to move away from his father.
“Mr. Vasiliev is talking to you.” Her father moved to her side and wrapped an arm around her shoulders—a move that Mikhail wished he could make, but as her protection. “You wanted adventure, India. So now you are going to have it,” her father announced.
It would be no adventure with his father, and Mikhail wished more than anything that he could snatch her away and run. They’d have to run far because his father’s reach wasn’t just within the States. It was certainly a thought . . . one that was becoming more appealing by the second as he watched India become more fearful, her father holding her tightly in place.
The thought that her father knew how much she wanted to run flittered through Mikhail’s mind, which was why he hardened his gaze and glared at the man who should be protecting his daughter—not selling her off.
“Enough!” his father growled. “Vincent, I thank you for our agreement, but now it is time for us to leave.” His father waved his hands around in a flourish . . . and then stilled, looking between India and him.
He didn’t think that India realized anything was wrong because he still felt her gaze caressing over his heated skin.
“Ah,” his father clicked his fingers in front of her face, “so it’s like that, huh?” He moved to the back of India and with just one look exchanged between father’s, her father moved away.
His own father placed his hands on her shoulders while he glared at him, and loudly whispered into India’s ear, “He’ll never be interested in you. He knows you’re mine. Whatever he has done or said before I arrived here was done to calm you before meeting me.”
The bastard!
Her eyes flickered to his while his father did his most to get rid of whatever trust Mikhail had built with her.
“He’s done it before,” the bastard continued. “But make no mistake, my son will never want you, or help you.”
He never knew that he could hate his father as much as he did right at that moment, but he did. His father had just given him the kick that he needed to leave, and when he did, it wouldn’t be alone.
His fathers eyes briefly widened in surprise when, for the first time, Mikhail let him see the anger rolling around inside of him. It felt like a giant volcano was bubbling in his stomach ready to explode. It had been a long time coming and he had years of built up anger saved for just the right moment. He was often angry with his father but never more so than right now as his father crossed to him, his nose inches from Mikhail’s, his face red with his own anger.
“This isn’t happening,” his father hissed. “You will travel in the first car and you will stay out of my way.” His father searched his gaze but found nothing but empty blackness. “Is that clear?” the question was spat at him, believing that he wouldn’t step completely out of line.
He forced himself to relax and act nonchalant because it was the only way to diffuse the volatile situation with India being within harms reach. So he would comply, for now.
Nodding, he smirked. “I’ll wait at the car.”
Without one glance at India, he turned and headed toward the front of the house. All the while he felt his hackles rising with his back being toward the father who would never have a problem stabbing him in it.