Page 10 of Relentless Sinner
When Natasha and I first found out that she was supposed to marry Jaxon, we went to Clara. She knows everything about the men from the Bratva and the Creed.
“They call him the Beast for a reason,”Clara had warned.
Then she proceeded to tell us all the things she’d heard about Jaxon that earned himthatname.
How he butchered anyone who crossed him, how he ripped the skin off this one guy and fed his remains to wild dogs, then how he gouged out his victims’ eyes to make sure the last thing they saw before they died was him.
Monster.
But isn’t my father a monster, too? That night when he presented me with the marriage contract where he’d signed over his executive rights to Jaxon, he forced me atgunpointto sign, too.
My fatherpointed a gun at my head and told me he’d shoot my hands off if I didn’t sign and agree to marry Jaxon. It was bad enough that he beat my pregnant sister but I will never forget him pointing that gun at me and threatening to destroy my dreams.
I want to be a neurosurgeon. You can’t be a neurosurgeon or any kind of surgeon without your hands. They are your tools.
Sure, perhaps if I was already a surgeon of good standing and had lost my limbs maybe I’d be allowed to continue practicing. But I’m not even at med school yet. The only things I’ve done so far is finish my bachelor degree, pass the MCATs and do voluntary work at the general hospital for experience, so without my hands there would be no medical career for me.
My monstrous father knew exactly how to manipulate me to get what he wanted.
Dad acted like a desperate man. One who’d lost his damn mind. I don’t know if it was because Natasha had gone and it was clear he wasn’t going to get her back. He probably saw me as his only hope. For what, though?
This scheme of his must be to do with my inheritance. Dad must have some deal going with Jaxon. I just don’t know what it is and why the sudden urgency.
It’s not like Dad can get his executor’s share of my inheritance moneynow. He has to wait until I’m twenty-five. That’s why I was so shocked when he drafted me in to marry Jaxon.
Something else must definitely be going on. Something I can’t figure out.
The only problem I foresaw was Natasha’s pregnancy. She wouldn’t have been able to marry the man Dad chose for her but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have married Alessandro.
The problem is, Dad would have still thrown a fit and wanted her to get rid of the baby because Alessandro is a bodyguard. He doesn’t come from a high-standing Italian family like ours with links to the five families of the Syndicate.
My father was evil at the best of times, but add in desperation and I got the devil.
That’s why I had to leave.
That’s why Istillhave to leave.
My gaze snaps to the door when I hear the distinct sound of the key in the lock.
Oh God. That must be Jaxon.
My throat tightens and a cold wave of fear clamors down my spine. The door swings open and there he stands, just as formidable as he was back at the—wherever I was.
With his bright blue eyes fixed on me Jaxon steps into the room and does a full sweep of my body.
My limbs go stiff and heavy, my breath turns shallow, and my skin prickles with a million goosebumps. What I don’t expect is to feel that strange heat of warmth curling low in my belly, roused by the way he’s looking at me.
It would be so much easier to see him as a monster if he were as hideous as the scarred men who took me.
I suppose men who look as handsome and near beautiful as him are the ones you have to be most careful of. Those are the ones who can fool you. It’s easier to identify something when you can see what it is. When you can’t, that’s when you need to worry.
Jaxon takes slow, deliberate steps as he moves closer. I’m glad when he stops by the bed but he’s still too close for comfort.
“Good. You’re all cleaned up.” His voice is low and calm.Too calm. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Yes.” I swallow, trying to find my voice. I realize this is the first time we’ve spoken and I have no idea how you should speak to men like him. I’m going to try. We can get pleasantries out of the way first. “Thank you for saving me.”
“You do realize if you hadn’t run you wouldn’t have needed saving. Right?” I pick up an ever-so-slight hint of a Russian accent laced beneath his words. It came out with his sarcasm.