Chapter 2

ELARA POV

“My father…he’s been…why?” I ask warily.

Surely this man who just murdered someone in front of me isn’t here to share coffee with my father. I’m sure whatever he has to do with my father isn’t something good. Or does my father—

His voice is detached with a deep gravelly timbre. “Your father stole from me.”

Great, just as I thought. The more I hear about my father, the more like a stranger he feels. Why does it seem like he’s stolen from everyone and their fathers. Even this man who is insanely dangerous and heartless enough to kill without so much as a flinch.

When the first debtor came for me, I pitied my father, and told myself the cost of raising two daughters during a recession must’ve been too much. But now, with debtors crawling out of every corner, I can’t defend him anymore.

I let out a shaky sigh, exhaustion bleeding through the fear choking me. I don’t even doubt what he said.

He isn’t the first, and I’m sure he won’t be the last.

Still, there’s something different about this one. The man in the expensive suit, smelling of mint, dark spice, and something deeply masculine, that is wearing a face that looks like it’s forgotten what joy feels like seems like he might actually kill me if I give him an excuse.

But excuses are all I have. I just hope I don’t lose my head to it today. “Uhm,” I start. “My father has been gone for some time now, but I’ll surely let you know when I get hold of him.” It’s the same rehearsed lie I’ve fed to everyone else.

His lips curl slightly, obviously not buying it. But I don’t care. I just want him out of this place, hopefully with my head still on my neck.

“Since when?” he asks, but with the look on his face, it’s almost like he already knows the answer.

I tilt my head slightly. “Three…months ago?”

He rolls his forefinger around the ring on his thumb and sighs. “Alright. Consider yourself my payment.”

A nervous chuckle escapes before I can choke it back. “I don’t think I’m following.”

“What that means is, I’ll take you, Ms. Petrov.” His tone is maddeningly casual, as if he hasn’t just said something insane.

“I don’t think I can offer anything to bring your money back.” My tongue rolls over my lower lip, anxiety tightening a knot around my throat. I’ll call this a bad joke if the hard face in front of me doesn’t say otherwise. “If you are in a hurry to get you money back, we can discuss selling the antique shop and a few of my father’s property.”

Not that he has one except the antique shop, but a girl can bluff.

He scoffs. “You must think he owes me a penny.”

“How much is it?” I force myself to sound steadier than I feel.

“10 million dollars.”

I choke on the air, a cough tearing through my chest. What the hell was my father doing owing that amount?  

“Uhm…I—” I start, trying to salvage the situation. “That doesn’t mean you can still take me.” My voice doesn’t reflect my panic, though my body is already trembling.

His eyes trail over me, slow and deliberate, making my skin heat in ways I don’t want to understand. “Why not?”

My brows furrow, already getting agitated. “For one. It’s illegal and this is considered as kidnapping.”

He rolls his ring on his thumb again as dark amusement flickers across his face.

“Illegal? Because I care about that.”

My mouth opens, but no words come out. Then I shut it again, feeling utterly stupid. Of course this man doesn’t care about legality. He literally just killed someone in front of me.

Cold sweat beads on my skin as the gravity of my situation finally settles in.

My pulse drums in my ears, drowning out every rational thought. My gaze darts left and right, scanning for any kind of escape.

A flicker of exasperation tightens his jaw as if he’s tired of watching me make predictable mistakes. But I’m already on my feet before he speaks.

“Don’t.”

I’ve barely rounded the couch when two sets of hands clamp around my arms and yank me backward. I hadn’t even realized there were others in the shop. Too caught up in this nightmarish reality.

Panic claws up my throat, and I thrash, twisting against their iron grips.

“Let go of me!”

They drag me past the devil in the Armani suit, who’s now standing with his expression unreadable except for the faintest trace of boredom as if kidnapping me is nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

“You must be insane to think you can get away with this!” I yell again, and he acknowledges me with a slow, indifferent shrug before following us out.

“Let me go!” My voice rises higher as they haul me into the open. “You’re out of your fucking minds!”

The night air hits me like ice, misting the sweat clinging to my skin. My hair clings to my cheeks as they drag me toward one of the black cars idling by the curb.

“Please!” I choke out. “You don’t have to do this!”