Page 44 of Desperate Measures

Never in my life had I tried so hard not to hit someone in the fucking face. Adrik Volkov—her father—had made her feel like she was some dumb kid incapable of making her own decisions.

He’d dismissed any possibility that she had married me out of anything other than a lie. A trick.

That the bastard was right was not the point. And he wasn’t. Not really.

I didn’t seduce Michaela into marrying me. Yeah, she did it out of obligation, but that was on Maggie. Not me.

Fuck. I was every bit the prick her father thought me to be, and just then, I hated myself a little bit more.

Still, it took every ounce of restraint I had not to march back into his office and punch him square in his fucking nose.

Instead, I sat there in the truck with my wife, her hand limp in mine, and I regretted not giving in to that rage.

Maybe a punch would have made things feel better. Maybe then I would have felt like I actually did something for her, taking some of that hurt and transferring it into action.

Michaela deserved someone to fight for her. Someone who wasn’t afraid to rip the world apart for her.

But I hadn’t done that.

Instead, I’d sat there and let it happen, and now here we were, in this fucking car, heading back to the penthouse in silence, where the distance between us only seemed to grow wider.

I glanced at her again, my heart twisting painfully at the sight of her slumped shoulders, the distant look in her eyes.

I wanted to fix it. Wanted to reach into her head and pull her back to me.

Make her feel like she wasn’t alone in this.

But I didn’t know how. I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t sure if anything I said would make a difference.

The only thing I knew for certain was that I was about to do whatever it took to make sure she didn’t feel like this again.

Even if it meant going to war with Adrik Volkov.

Chapter 16-Michaela

Oh fuck. I fucked up.

Breathing felt like a chore as I rode up the elevator with Liam in silence. I walked into the penthouse first, uncertain where to begin. I supposed packing would be smart.

I placed my briefcase on the table in the hallway, but did not bother stepping out of my boots. I could gather my toiletries and a few essentials and have someone come back for the rest.

That’ll work, I thought and sniffed.

When had I started crying?

Shit.

I heard Liam moving behind me, and I hoped he didn’t notice me wiping my cheeks. I walked to the bedroom, not looking at the bed as I pulled a small suitcase from the closet.

“What are you doing?” Liam asked, and I could hear the confusion in his voice.

“Packing.”

“I can see that, but why?”

I huffed a strangled sounding breath and opened the drawer I’d used for my panties and bras.

Was he really asking me this? He knew why, for fuck’s sake.