2. Valentina

Chapter 2

Valentina

"Valentina, Valentina, Valentina," Liam hums, shaking his head. "My, what a mess you've made of things." He licks his lips as his eyes travel down my body, then his gaze freezes between my thighs. With a sigh, he picks up the switchblade he tossed to the floor. "I think you need some time to reflect on your behavior, don't you?"

I blink through my unshed tears until they fall from my lashes, clearing my vision and bringing me face to face with my reflection in the tablet screen. Pain lances through my chest at how utterly violated I look, and I draw a shaky breath, tearing my gaze away to return Liam's stare. I don't know what he wants me to say. Yes , I've been a bad girl, or no , I think you're full of shit.

I know I should pick the safest option, but I'll do anything to keep Liam away for longer. If it takes his anger to make that happen, so be it.

I swallow, but it does nothing to ease my dry throat. "I think you need a reality check. You can't keep me locked up down here for an entire week." I jerk my shoulders, tugging at my bindings. The chair legs scrape an inch across the floor.

The damned fool never bolted the thing down, which means that he's either inexperienced at this, or he had to make do with what he had in a pinch.

Tying me up might not have been planned, after all.

"Did you expect me to come with you willingly?" I laugh hard enough that I fight a coughing fit as fresh tears spring to my eyes. "You actually think I'd choose you over them?"

The corner of Liam's lips twitch. "You chose me before. You'll choose me again." He crosses the distance between us and bends at the waist until we're eye level, then brushes his knuckles against my unmarked cheek. "In these next seven days, Valentina, you'll forget all about them. You'll remember the love you have for me, even if I have to pluck out each and every one of your ribs—" his free hand brushes up the ladder of my ribcage—"to pull it to the surface." His fingers idly grab at my chest, like he's imagining reaching inside to grasp my heart in the palm of his hand.

As his eyes travel my naked body, he hums in appreciation, brushing his knuckles against the top of my breast.

My stomach twists in knots, but I swallow all of my disgust to look him in the eye. Saying his name is like forcing poison down my throat, but I do anyway, damn near desperate to shift his attention.

"Liam."

His hand hovers over my breast, twitching with restraint as his blue eyes flick up to my face. There's a thin layer of sweat breaking out across his neck, a hint of pink tinting the shell of his ear.

I focus on his eyes, the same eyes I used to gaze into and wonder what the future held for us. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine anything like this.

Liam was always meant to be boring, kind, and safe. A fling for fun. Never anything long-term. Just a means to an end. An itch to scratch. A man who would love me enough to overlook my muddied past and keep me content.

Someone to help me forget about Andrei.

As I look into Liam's icy blue eyes, he is all of those things, yet none of them at all. He was never enough for me—was never meant to be enough—because I'd already decided the man I really wanted, the man who was hand-picked for me, had to be wrong. If Andrei wasn't enough, then neither could Liam be.

An ache burrows deep in my chest. I was such a fool back then, taking men at surface level, not looking deep enough to see what dark secrets remain hidden beneath the surface.

I won't be made a fool again.

I glare at my ex as revulsion pulses through my veins, thick, heavy, nauseating.

There's one thing Liam needs to get through his thick fucking skull. Well, two things , but I don't have a bullet to give him right now.

I hold my breath as he leans in close enough to kiss. My resolve hardens alongside the air trapped in my lungs. When our lips brush, I finally speak my mind. "I will never love you. Seven days or seven lifetimes—nothing will change that."

Liam hovers over my lips, a low hum catching in the back of his throat. I thought he'd be angry at me for rejecting him, but it's like I barely dented his armor. It still shines bright against the whites of his eyes. "Resist all you like, zhena, but in time, you'll remember how we used to be. How good we are together." He lowers his lips to my jawline, curving against it with featherlight kisses. A shiver rolls down my spine, and I clench my fists to keep from shaking. Disgust roils in my gut as his breath ghosts across my face.

"I can be a generous man, Valentina, and an even better husband . . . if you'll let me."

When he dares to press a kiss to the corner of my lips, I close the distance and capture his mouth, surprising him with a real kiss. I suck his bottom lip between mine, and when I feel some of the tension in his body ease, I bite down hard. Copper spills into my mouth, and Liam grabs the first thing he finds— my neck. His grip tightens until he closes off my windpipe and makes it impossible for me to breathe.

But I don't dare let go.

With a snarl, he tears his lip free, blood dripping past his lips and staining his chin. He spits, blood and saliva splattering across my face and chest. "I'm going to enjoy taming you," he hisses, "because when you finally submit to me, it will be exquisite ." He shoves me away from him with a hard push on my neck, releasing my throat and storming to the door.

"Is that all you've got?" A laugh spills from my chest, cracking dryly in my throat. Liam's blood lolls across my tongue, and I swallow it down, letting it ease some of my discomfort. It's not water, but fuck , does it ignite a fire in my blood. When I have his attention again, I give him a lazy, lopsided smile as my pulse races through my veins. "My father would have never chosen you, y'know. For pakhan. "

I know my words have hit their target when Liam's entire body freezes; even his chest stills as he forgets to breathe. No one wants to hear that they're unfit for the title of king, especially from the late king's daughter.

I dig the barb deeper. "You're only holding the crown because my grandmother gave it to you. No one is going to respect you, Liam, no matter how much you pretend otherwise." I think back to how easily my grandmother controlled her guards in the rose garden—how they followed her every move, without her even having to say a word.

That is real power. She doesn't have to hide behind anyone to walk these streets. Liam will have to duck and cover with how my men are coming after him.

He's playing a dangerous game, trying to take over an established criminal empire. A pawn dressed as a king. A pawn from another Bratva, seizing power in ours only because he has its future queen hostage.

At least Andrei had the guts to rise to the top on his own goddamn work ethic. He doesn't need my Baranova name to secure power nearly as bad as Liam does.

I can see it in Liam's eyes. The fear. The way it ripples just beneath the surface, betraying any shred of confidence he pretends to have. He doesn't really know what he's doing.

And he knows it.

I lick my lips, getting another taste of metal. "If you want power, Liam, real power, I can help you get it. We can take it from the one person standing above us in rank. It'll be easy as . . ." I jerk my head to the side, making a cracking sound with my tongue against my teeth. "With Katya out of the way, the Bratva will be looking for its next leader." I incline my head towards him. "Whoever is standing close enough to the throne will get to claim it first. I wonder—" I take a deep breath—"will it be you, Liam?"

Or will it be me?

I've never wanted the throne. It's no secret that a woman, even someone with Baranova blood like me, can't actually claim any power from it. Bratva tradition won't allow it. But Andrei, Mikhail, and Ezra make me feel powerful. If I wanted to take a little power for myself, I know they'd willingly give it to me. I could make my own orders. Break a few rules to create new ones.

It's within the realm of possibility when I marry Andrei.

Siding with Liam, on the other hand, will accomplish nothing.

But if I'm going to secure not only my safety, but the safety of the ones I love, there are two people standing in the way. Liam, and my grandmother.

It's only a matter of time before Liam dies. He's a temporary nuisance, in the grand scheme of things. But Katya can slip away easily, blending into the shadows to disappear like smoke. If she does, there's no telling when she'll try this bullshit again, putting targets on our backs and setting the bounties high.

I never wanted her to die, but I don't think I have a choice anymore. With the list of traitors holding knives against my back growing by the day, I can't risk it—not when she's already cut me deep. Her knife is the sharpest of all.

Liam eyes me warily from across the tiny room. "You want me to kill your grandmother?"

I have to be smart about how I play this, or he won't believe me. "In the chapel, before our ceremony, you said that all you wanted was me." I bite my bottom lip and look up at him from beneath my lashes. "That none of the rest—the money, the city, the Bratva—none of it mattered." I let my face fall, dragging in a quick breath. "I just want to be sure that you mean it. That you really want me , not any of this . . . other stuff . "

Killing Katya means that Liam can have all of the power the throne provides. It will be the ultimate test—does he want me , or does he want the power that comes from marrying the sole-surviving Baranova heir?

Something softens in Liam's gaze, and he looks away from me to card his fingers through his hair. "Of course I want you, Valentina. That's what all of this is for." He exhales slowly, a muscle in his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth. Blood trickles down his chin, and he idly wipes it across his sleeve. "I want you more than anything, Valentina. I always have."

Okay. This is good. This, I can work with. It might even be better than the rage. He's too hot-and-cold for me to predict properly, but if I tease out the softer parts of him, maybe those are the pieces I can control.

Maybe together, we can steal the knife from my grandmother's hands and shove it down her throat. Then I can turn my men loose on Liam.

Two traitors, one blade.

I take a deep breath, swallowing all of the rage boiling in my gut. He wants a submissive wife. It's a role I've spent years learning to play. I can stomach it for a few days if it means I can claw my way out of this pit and back to my men.

I feign a sad smile. "All anyone seems to want from me is my name. I'm not even sure that—" My breath catches, but it's not fake. These next words hurt. "—they'd want me if it was just me ."

Would my men still love Valentina if she was a no-name nobody from nowhere?

"I was there first," Liam says, jumping in to fill the space between my words with what he wants to hear. He quickly closes the distance between us and kneels at my feet. Kissing each of my knees, he looks up at me tenderly. "I've always been here for the right reasons, Valentina. For you. Oh, baby, don't cry."

A tear that I hadn't felt coming slips free. I've never said those words aloud—that my men might want me for my name, and not for who I am. I know the Bratva comes with the territory—that Andrei was promised his position as pakhan as part of the deal for marrying me. That's the undeniable truth.

He's also told me that he loves me.

But Mikhail and Ezra haven't.

I bite my lip as another tear rolls down my cheek. I'm sure a part of them loves me. I've felt it, I think, in the moments we're together. The way they're determined to protect me, with a ferocity vibrating in the timbre of their voices. How they vehemently hate the man kneeling before me. How they hate the way my grandmother lies and schemes—manipulating me to her benefit.

They hate when others abuse me.

Isn't that a form of love?

Liam brushes away my tears as he stands, cradling my cheek in his palm. "You can trust me, baby. Be good to me, and I'll be good to you. Don't you remember how good we were? How well I've treated you all these years?" He leans his forehead against mine, puffing a breath against my lips. "They've gotten you all confused, putting lies in your head." His lips curve into a snarl, and when he pulls back to search my eyes, the rage from earlier has returned to the surface.

I'll need to be really careful with how I handle him.

I close my eyes, part of me shriveling up inside at how vulnerable it makes me. I hold on to the feeling, stacking it neatly beside the rest of my emotions. The fear. The anger. The pain. When it comes time to shove my blade through Liam's wretched heart, I'll sharpen it first, striking the metal against every single vile feeling he's given me until it zings, sharp enough to slice through stone .

My voice is soft when I reply. "I don't know. Maybe."

Sighing, Liam presses a kiss to my lips, smearing more of his blood across them. He runs his finger through the sticky mess, painting my mouth red with the taste of him. "If I undo your ropes, will you behave?" His eyes narrow as he considers this. "If you fight me, you're staying here tonight."

I don't want to be tied to a hard-ass chair all night. My ass is already threatening to go numb.

"I'll be good."

This mollifies him well enough that he carefully undoes every knot tying me in place. It takes longer than it should, because he delicately rubs every single patch of raw skin beneath the ropes, running his palms up my arms, my calves, down my back—everywhere he can touch, as though he's saying sorry .

But I know better. He's not sorry at all.

He's playing the same game I am, trying to win the other one over. The difference between us, however, is that deep down, he believes he can convince me to stay with him. That if he shows enough compassion and generosity after inflicting pain and punishment, that I'll learn to follow the rules. That he truly can be a good husband to me.

I want none of that bullshit.

I only want freedom, and it's a price I'll pay in blood. His. Katya's. Anyone else's who gets in my way. I'm under no delusion that this threadbare peace between us will turn into anything permanent. I'm not here to stay.

And I have seven days, at most, to break free.