Chapter One

Isabella

“And the shipments?” I hear my father ask. I can picture him sitting at the head of the long mahogany table even with the wooden door closed. I can also picture the ten men sitting around the table, listening to him, all dressed in fancy suits and pretending to be businessmen. But I know who they are. I know exactly what they do, and that thing is far from just business. 

“Received, sir,” an unfamiliar voice replies. “The drugs are safe. We already have buyers lining up.” 

“We have the FBI breathing down our necks. Thank god we found a solution for this now.”

“Oh sweetheart, you cannot be here!” Janet, the housekeeper, whispers behind me, taking my arm. “If your father saw you…”

“I know, I know,” I sigh, stepping away from her and the door. “I just… I want to go out for a bit. I feel suffocated in this house, Jan. I need to go out. I came to ask him if I could. I didn’t know he was in a meeting.”

I’m not lying. 

I honestly had no idea that my father would be in a meeting while I was contemplating asking him for permission ten minutes ago, pacing around in my room. Feeling suffocated isn’t a lie either. 

I can’t remember the last time I went out of this godforsaken prison. Yes, prison. That’s all this place is to me. I can’t call it home because it simply is not home to me. Never has been, never will be. 

This… place is just my fancy cage. 

I’m given everything. More than I could possibly need. But things are being taken away from me, too. My freedom, for instance. My father has the key to my fancy cage, and he rarely allows me to go out unless it’s for some event, gala, dinner with his friends— all to keep up appearances. To look good to the world. To keep the image of us being a perfect family. But inside these walls? What the world doesn’t see? It’s worse. So much worse. 

“He won’t agree, Bella,” Janet says softly, and I don’t miss the pity in her eyes as she speaks. “He is not in a good mood today.”

“I need to go!” I almost yell, my nails digging into the skin of my wrist. “Please. You don’t get it. I can’t. I can’t.”

No one gets it. No one. 

This house is hell in itself. 

This place… these people inside. They’re bad people. They’re killers. Murderers. They don’t have a fucking heart. Like my dad. Heartless. Cold. 

“Let’s go to your room, Isabella,” Janet takes my hand despite my protests, and I don’t stop her. Why should I? She’s only looking out for me. I know she is. The meeting inside is almost over anyway. My father and his men would come out any time now and here I am, about to have a mental breakdown. 

Once I’m in my room, Janet closes the door behind us. “I need to tend to the guests, Isabella,” her voice is tight, or maybe I’m just imagining things. She’s speaking to me like I’m a child who won’t listen. But I’m not. I’m nineteen years old. I’m not a fucking child. It’s them who won’t listen. They never do. 

“Stay in your room.” That’s the last thing she says before leaving me alone with my thoughts. 

I sigh, heading on the balcony. A little bit of freedom at least, I think. 

I watch the sky above me, turning slightly grey. It’s about to rain. Good. I love rain. It’s one of the little things that makes me happy. It’s natural. And not man-made. Humans can’t alter rain. They can’t ruin it. And that’s enough to make it precious. More precious than anything. It makes it real. 

I allow myself a smile when I feel the first drop of water touch my skin, not making a move to wipe it off. I stand there, leaning on the railing and close my eyes. 

I feel like I’m a broken princess locked in a tower with no escape route in sight. Maybe that’s because I am locked with no escape route in sight. The princess part? Not so much. I might live like one to others. It’s what he wants them to see. A spoiled, rich girl who has everything she needs. But in reality, I have nothing. Nothing that really matters. 

It’s okay, Isabella. You’ll get out of here one day.

My mother always read me stupid stories about princesses finding their prince who saves them from whatever they’re going through. Stories. That’s all they were. 

Princes don’t exist. 

Girls who still believe they’ll find themselves some kind of prince charming who will waltz right in and sweep them off their feet are truly, incredibly, without a doubt, stupid. 

Men like that don’t exist. Not in this world, anyway. 

In this world… in this world, men are assholes. They’re narcissists, controlling, and abusive assholes who take women for granted. They crave power and control more than anything. I should know. I live with one like that. 

“Yes, Mr Volkov,” my father’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I look down from where I’m standing. His meeting must be over if he’s out there, standing in the rain while talking to a really tall guy. 

My head tilts as I study this one. I can’t see his face yet since he’s facing my father as he speaks, his back to me. But I can tell he’s tall, muscular. His hair— dark as the night— is getting wet, and he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he reaches up and runs a hand through the strands, messing it up even more. Unlike the men standing next to him— including my father— the stranger is not wearing a suit like they are. He’s wearing a black shirt, his sleeves rolled up, displaying the tattoos on his arm. 

Weird. 

I’ve never seen him here before. 

He’s probably new.

As if the stranger can sense me staring at him, he looks up, and I swear I stop breathing. 

He is… breathtaking. Exquisite.  

I have seen plenty of men going in and out of this house and yet, I have never seen one like him. This stranger is beautiful, I notice. Hot, yes. But beautiful. 

From up here, I can make out the color of his eyes. They’re grey. Not a light grey, no. A dark one. His eyes are haunted, probably having seen things they shouldn’t have. Suddenly, I have this urge to run downstairs and ask him for his name. I know it will not be the last time I see this man, especially if he’s currently in my house, talking to my father out of all people. Is he doing business with him? Is that why he’s here? Why else would be here? 

Of course he’s involved with my father. The one man I think is beautiful… 

I release a breath, shaking my head at the man even though he’s looking straight at me. 

“Pricks,” I mutter, turning around and going back inside my room.