Page 41 of Desperate Measures

I felt a sadness well within me for the little girl I’d been. So naïve and confident that I’d take my place by his side here one day. But now, I realized that wasn’t even something I wanted anymore.

Anxiety threatened to overwhelm me as I faced the door leading to his office.

Oh fuck. Are you really doing this, Micky?

I was about to confront my dad with some things he was sure to hate. The first one being the six foot plus man who was still gripping my hand as we passed the receptionist’s desk and my father’s personal assistant.

“Miss Volkov? Shall I announce you?” the older man asked.

“No, thank you, Nathan. I’ll announce myself,” I replied with a nervous smile.

Liam squeezed my hand, and I appreciated it, I did. Odd to feel comforted by my husband who has been practically absentee since day one, but there I was, using his grip on me as if I could siphon strength from that contact alone.

I faced Dad’s door and sucked in a fortifying breath. Every time I stepped through these doors, I felt gravity pulling at me, pressing in on my chest.

It was a constant reminder that here Dad was not just Dad. He was different. He was Adrik Volkov. Billionaire CEO.

It was easy to romanticize it from the outside.

The power.

The prestige.

The wealth.

But standing here, on this marble floor, I could feel the sharp edges of it.

The cost.

The toll.

The moral compromises that had to be made in order to hold the reins of this kind of power.

My father cared a great deal for his family. He would do anything for my mother, my sister, and me. That wasn’t even a question.

And maybe I was fucked up because I’d always wanted more. Not necessarily from him, but from everyone. Nerves wracked me, but I fought against them, pushing through the doubts and angst as I opened the door.

“Doshen’ka! What a nice surprise,” my father greeted me, a smile lighting up his still handsome face.

He was a little grayer these days, but every bit as powerful and attractive as the framed wedding photograph Mom kept of the two of them in the living room of their Long Island home.

I moved inside the office with Liam coming in right behind me. He closed the door, and my father’s gaze swept to where our hands were still connected. Liam squeezed me reassuringly, and I swallowed.

I watched my dad, seeing the precise moment when he registered the implication of Liam O’Doyle holding my hand.

“Dad,” I began.

A growl reverberated from my father’s throat, and I stumbled back as he rose to his feet, pushing away from his desk. He stalked towards us, his eyes glued to mine and Liam’s hands.

“What is this? What have you done, Doshen’ka?” he asked, and his voice was barely recognizable.

I admit, I had never seen my father in a temper. At least, not one aimed at me.

“You. You did this. You tricked my girl? I gave you a job. I granted you access. And this, this is how you repay me?”

“Sir, perhaps you should listen to your daughter.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do. Now, get your filthy hands off my daughter.”