74. Tessa

74

Tessa

" W here are you taking me?" The guard ignores my question. His grip on my arm is firm enough to leave bruises.

I haven't seen my daughter since last night. After the strange meal with her, Elena, and Aleks, a servant escorted me back to my room and locked me in. There was nothing to do but take a shower in the en-suite bathroom and sleep.

My headache has gone but my body is black and blue from the car crash. It's going to take a while for the bruises to fade.

My breasts ache too. Going from feeding Chloe once or twice a day to nothing is not ideal. If Elena refuses to let me feed her, I'll have to express some milk to relieve the pain. Not that Elena seems to give a shit about me. Chloe is her sole focus.

The mute guard leads me down past several locked doors, into a part of the house that's less homely. My pulse rate picks up as visions of all the many things that might happen imminently flood my brain.

If I die here, in this house, will the guys ever find out? The thought of Harry and Chloe growing up not knowing what happened to me makes me want to cry, but I focus on my surroundings. Crying is a sign of weakness. I must be strong.

Stay strong.

Stay strong.

I mutter my self-motivational mantra under my breath as the guard stops outside a door. He raps twice.

" Voydite ," says a voice in Russian.

The door opens and I'm unceremoniously pushed in. A bulky man with salt and pepper hair, dark eyes, and a hard face sits behind a huge dark wood desk, an open bottle of clear liquor in front of him. Aleks stands nearby, his face carefully blank, staring into the middle distance.

"Welcome, Tessa. Lovely to see you again, my krasivaya kukla . I'm Sergei Mashkov."

Aleks grimaces slightly at Sergei's words, which suggests the phrase isn't complimentary.

"I wish I could say the same," I mutter.

The way the man's gaze slides over me makes me want to bathe in bleach. My father is a ruthless Mafia leader, but he has a softer side.

This man? There's nothing soft about him.

No emotion in his eyes.

Nothing.

It's like staring into a void.

I shiver and he smiles, recognizing - correctly - that I'm afraid of him.

"I regret the way my men brought you to my home. Damaging the merchandise is not ideal, but time was running out."

My brain gets stuck on the word 'merchandise'. Is that what he thinks of me? Something to be bought and sold?

"Why do you want me and Chloe? My father and I are estranged. He doesn't care about me."

Sergei chuckles. "Really? That's what you think, my kukla ? He keeps you in his apartment and has his most trusted soldier guarding you. That's not the action of a father who doesn't care about his daughter."

"Then why do you want Chloe?"

"She's my flesh and blood, which makes her useful to me."

"Useful? How could a baby possibly be useful to you?"

He lifts his glass and takes a long drink, rolling the liquor around in his mouth and savoring the flavor. "As my daughter, she is a bargaining tool. Once she's of age, she'll marry someone favorable to me. I can mold her into the perfect kukla. Just like you were that night."

For the first time since I stepped inside this office, his eyes flicker with something other than darkness.

Lust.

My stomach clenches and bile creeps up into my throat. There's a part of me that still doesn't believe what Elena hinted at. The part that thought Enzo cared about me, in his own way.

"What happened that night, and why do you think Chloe is yours?" I know Elena told me she did a DNA test, but she could be lying. My voice breaks, giving away the perilous state of my emotions. If my father was here, he'd scold me for revealing too much. He always taught me to hide my thoughts. He said it was essential in our world.

Hiding behind a mask was something he excelled at. Even after my mother died, he never showed his emotions. Instead of grieving, he buried himself in work and stayed away for weeks at a time. And then he sent me away, under the pretext of protecting me.

I've never forgiven him for that.

"Mr. Ferrero gave you to me. He owed me money. We agreed you would settle his debt."

Aleks stands motionless, like a statue, while his father pours another drink. There's no reaction on his face. I guess he's aware of his father's sick proclivities.

"Why can't I remember anything?"

"Ferrero drugged you to make you compliant. It suited my tastes." No wonder I was so ill the following day. He'd fucking roofied me.

"That still doesn't explain why you think Chloe is yours."

Sergei grins. "Normally I like to share, but you were too special, so I kept my little doll all to myself. By the time I'd finished playing with you, you were full of my cum, my pretty kukla." From the way he reaches down below the desk, he's hard. The sick fuck.

"Ferrero suspected he wasn't Chloe's father, so he did a DNA test, which ruled him out as the father. Since he knew I was the only one who'd fucked you around that time, he put two and two together. Of course it didn't take long for the stupid mudak to get into debt in my casino again. He thought telling me about Chloe would make the problem go away. I'll admit, I was intrigued when I heard his little story. I figured I could have a two-for-one deal. A daughter for me and a daughter that Alberto Valentino will do anything to protect." He chuckles to himself. "The kid keeps my mama happy and I can use you to distract Alberto and make me some money at the same time."

"My father will come for me," I spit. "And he'll kill you."

Sergei is up and out of his chair before I can blink. For a large man, he's surprisingly spry on his feet. He grabs me by the throat.

"He can try, kukla, but he'll lose. He's grown soft in his old age." My eyes water as the pressure around my neck tightens. Aleks looks up but makes no move to stop his father from hurting me. He's too busy swiping away on his phone to care about what his father's doing.

It's hopeless. I'm not strong enough, and from the way Sergei's eyes gleam with feral lust, the more I struggle, the more it turns him on.

Just as I'm about to pass out, Aleks says something in Russian. Sergei releases me and steps back, smirking while adjusting the bulge in his pants. My neck throbs. I guess I'll have more bruises to add to the patchwork of purple and blue all over my body.

"We will continue this conversation again soon, little kukla. Try to be a little more compliant next time. I guarantee you won't like what happens if you fight me."