Page 13 of Taken In Trade
Even if he’s not the one behind the disappearances, Grigoryan has a fondness for women half his age, and they never live long.
If Julian Chapman gave a shit about his daughter, he wouldn’t let her within a hundred feet of Grigoryan. Only, he seems more concerned with not having to pay the O’Connors what they’re owed than he is with whether Vanessa will live to see twenty-six.
Her birthday is New Year’s Day, and that’s when the contract officially dissolves, but I don’t see her making it a year under Grigoryan’s roof.
It’s unfortunate, but it’s ultimately none of my business.
Not unless I want to start an unfounded war with two of the founding families.
If I had proof, I wouldn’t hesitate to blow their shit up, but without that, I’m just asking to bring trouble to my door.
Cutting my eyes at Vanessa, I breathe through my mouth to avoid her stormy scent. She smells like the weather right before a lightning storm, and it never fails to throw me for a loop.
She’s always full of life. This depressed version of her causes an itchy reaction under my skin that I don’t care for.
That’s not even taking into account what her electric scent means—at least, according to my mother. It still doesn’t mean I can do a goddamn thing about it.
Not if I’d like to prevent a war.
I’m a coldhearted asshole, but I don’t risk the lives of my men needlessly. That lesson, I learned from my father. Well, the one who’s still alive, if you can call what he’s doingliving.
When we lost my mother, her soul match followed within a year, thus leaving me with only one living father. He stuck around Boston long enough to ensure I wouldn’t flounder after taking over for him, and then…
He left.
Ran back to Russia to live out the rest of his time free of the constant reminders of the woman he loved.
Most only see the perks of bonds and packs. I’ve lived the ugly reality of what it does to families, and I promised myself I wouldn’t go down that road. Yet here I am, lamenting over the thought of Vanessa ending up with Grigoryan.
At least with the O’Connors, I could comfort myself with the knowledge they would treat her well. It might not have been a love match, but I didn’t have to worry about them abusing her.
This entire situation is fucked.
Reaching over, I tuck a tendril of Vanessa’s hair behind her ear. Her head whips in my direction, and I raise an eyebrow.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to be looked over by my physician?” I ask, mentally willing her to give me any reason to bring her to my home.
Anything to give us extra time for her to crack. If she begged me to save her, like I assume was her purpose for coming to my home earlier today, I wouldn’t be able to deny her.
Before tonight, I’m not sure what I would have said had she asked me to rescue her from Grigoryan.
Listening to the gunshots ring out around my warehouse while she was still too far away for me to save her was an excellent wake-up call.
The look on her face as her hazel eyes met mine…
Fuck.
I never want to see that expression again. I much prefer the smirk that tips at her lips whenever chaos is brewing.
If I have to be tied to someone for life, I’d much prefer a partner in crime to a wilting flower who needs constant protection and reassurance.
Only, all my points from earlier are still valid, meaning Vanessa is going to have to ask if she wants me to intervene. That, or one of my teams needs to find some cold, hard evidence of Grigoryan’s and Julian Chapman’s wrongdoings.
“For the second time, no thank you. I have no desire to be poked and prodded by a doctor tonight,” she says, keeping her eyes on the passing scenery. “I’m already going to hear about it for staying out this late.”
“Don’t worry about that,” I say, staring at the side of her head. “I’ll explain to your father what transpired.”
“No.” Her head shakes violently. “That won’t help anything. I’ll handle it.”
