Clara Rossi

"What are you doing here?" Volkov asked me, holding a gun in one hand.

Around us, rain poured. We were...somewhere suburban. Everything was gray and blue and cold.

Rage blazed in his eyes behind strands of drenched hair. At me.

"I asked you a question."

I noticed what I was wearing. A thin scrap of see-through white dress, completely bare underneath. Shivering.

What was I doing...here?

"I—"

"You shouldn't be here."

"He's right," said another voice behind me, in my ear. So close, I whipped in surprise—

My dad.

Dread slithered like a snake around my throat at his slow, cruel smile.

"My daughter. Do you know how much I love you?"

I stumbled back, away from him—

"My pretty girl." Marko cooed over my shoulder, causing me to flinch in fear.

"Clara?" Enzo. Enzo stood next to my dad now, drinking in my nakedness.

Where did Volkov go? Panic sucked all the oxygen from my lungs. Where was he?

"Why do you need him?" said my dad, as though he could flip through my thoughts.

I didn't. I never wanted to need anyone again. Not after everything that had happened.

But I...couldn't help it. I wished, hopelessly and desperately—

I choked awake in bed, gasping at the ceiling.

It was a nightmare. Just a terrible nightmare.

I was okay. I was...not.

~

"You look different." Nana set down her handleless clay coffee mug. We were eating prosciutto and fig sandwiches at a rustic cafe near Rebel Ink.

I had asked her to meet me for lunch to catch up. Even though, I couldn't confide in her about what was really happening, it felt nice to see her, talk to her.

"How so?"

"Like you're not really here. Where are your thoughts?"

I attempted to lighten the mood. "Mostly in the gutter."

She deadpanned. "Don't joke. I'm serious."

"Are you? I couldn't tell."

She fought against a smile, shaking her head. Her voice sounded relieved, though. "I was wrong. You haven't changed at all. You're as annoying as ever. Eat. You've lost too much weight."

The least of my worries, but I took a bite of my half-finished sandwich for her.

"Any news from your dad?"

I continued chewing and shook my head. Outside the window, brown leaves were spinning in the wind on the sidewalk.

My focus drifted at the front door behind Nana. Great. Volkov had been rubbing off on me. I kept wanting to know who left or entered. Or maybe it was the nightmare jitters. Maybe both.

"How's that boy, anyway? I mean...he's not mistreating you, is he?"

I kicked away the memory of him on his knees three nights ago. The butterflies he unleashed when his fingertips stroked my ankles. The effect of his smooth, rich voice in the pitch dark. Cocky flirt. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Nope," I said dryly. "Not at all."

"What about them? Those friends of his...or siblings. What are they, anyway?"

"They're like siblings to him. They're alright. Andrei, the oldest one, keeps his distance. Niko and Charlotte, they're siblings. They're more friendly. Especially Charlotte. We didn't see eye to eye at first, but that's changing."

Small hope sparked in me, and I didn't understand why. It's not like I wanted Charlotte to like me. It's not like I wanted any of them to like me.

"But it doesn't matter," I added quickly. "They're...they're a real family, and they know this marriage is fake. It's political. It's not like...I'll ever be a part of them. It's just temporary."

She sighed. "Well, hopefully your dad frees you from them soon. This can't continue. That boy has no right to hold you hostage. You're not an object—"

"Exactly. I'm not an object. But my dad treated me like one. So why would I wait for his help? If he cared about me at all, I'd never be in this situation."

"Is that what you really think, daughter?"

Suddenly, he was there. Behind Nana, standing in front of the two entrance doors.

Nightmare reincarnated. The same anxiety froze my spine like ice. I hadn't seen him since the wedding. Over three weeks ago. He had no idea that I knew everything. Or that I'd been helping Volkov trick Marko. Or did he? What if he knew?

"Oh!" Nana sprung to her feet, laughing in embarrassment. "I wasn't expecting—"

He cut her off by handing a hundred dollar bill. "Go shop around. Leave us alone for twenty minutes."

My jaw slacked, but anger was quick to replace it. "She's not your—"

"It's okay!" Nana gave me a pleading smile, which only made me clench my jaw harder. "I'll go shop around. Thank you, Mr. Rossi!"

My dad nodded—barely—then unbuttoned his wool coat to claim her chair. He sat across from me and pushed her cappuccino away like it carried an unknown disease.

I glared at Nana through the window as she dashed away, then back at him. "You had no right to do that."

He chuckled. "I missed that fiery passion of yours."

What did he want? My heart pounded from his unexpected visit. He did it on purpose, didn't he? To catch me unguarded.

He studied me with unnerving scrutiny. "Do you want to tell me why you work at Rebel Ink? Out of all the places?"

"Why not?" I remained neutral.

"Just surprised. You were so dedicated to continue my legacy. What changed?"

"I got married against my will."

His expression gave away nothing. "I am sorry, Clara. But I assure you, I'm working on your freedom."

"Who said I'm interested in your help?" I stood up to get the hell out—

"Who's going to help you?" His amusement made me pause. "Please, don't tell me that kid has worked his charm on you. Did you forget whose blood runs through your veins? You're a part of me, Clara. If he hates me, then he hates you too. If he's made you believe otherwise, then you're more naive than I thought."

His words dug their claws into my chest, but I fought against reacting. "So what?"

"I need you to tell me everything from now on."

"You want me to spy on him?" The idea made me laugh.

"I don't believe that my guy attacked his brother. I think it was a part of his game, but I can't prove it. Not yet." He stood up too, leveling with me. Suddenly I felt suffocated, like a trapped insect in a spiderweb. "Your mom is hosting the annual charity event at the vineyard house this weekend. I want you to bring him, and his three friends. If you don't, there will be consequences."

"Are you seriously threatening your daughter?"

"I'm saving her. If you don't make it happen, you can forget about your job. I guarantee no place will hire you on this earth, as long as that's what I wish. Just bring him to me."

I shook my head, unable to hold his gaze. Scared he'd see through it and use it against me.

"I promise, you won't have to suffer for too long, daughter." He reached to caress my cheek and I sucked in a breath not to recoil. Not to cry and scream and curse. "I'll make him pay for everything."

"He won't listen to me."

"That's a lie. After all, he asked for your hand the moment he laid eyes on you." Clearly, his tone proved that he suspected something. He knew Volkov was scheming. "I believe in you."

After he left, the rest of the day dragged for eternity. It also passed in a matter of minutes.

I stayed at the office as long as possible, and when I drove to the townhouse, it was a relief to find it empty.

Though the idea of sleeping was unrealistic. So I changed into workout clothes and headed to the private small gym near the garage. Maybe exhausting my muscles to death would help me pass out and not replay the threats from my dad.

Lowering into a challenging squat, I caught a glimpse of Niko in the far corner destroying a punching bag.

The music in my headphones had been so loud, I didn't notice until now, the consistent violence of gloves against leather. In his shirtless state, sweat coated every ridge of tan muscle from his biceps to his chest and ripple of abs.

Sensing my gaze, Niko met it with his own with a short, polite nod. Then returned to working out.

I glared at my reflection in the mirror. For being weak. For struggling to squat with a set of twenty-five pound plates. For standing in front of my dad earlier and feeling powerless.

"Can you teach me how to do that?" I asked a moment later, interrupting Niko.

He paused mid-punch, panting from effort. "Huh?"

The smell of his sweat reached my nose, but...he smelled just like any other guy. Unlike Volkov who smelled...distracting. And yes. It was a weird request. I knew that much. But Niko never hit on me. He didn't make me nervous. With him, I could focus.

"I can hire someone to help me. It's just...those classes teach the bare minimum. Not to mention, they require years of repetition to build muscle memory. I don't have that privilege, considering...our circumstances. So I want the cheat sheet. If that makes sense. I want to be prepared for the worst, as soon as possible. I don't want to be powerless."

He'd been in that situation before. Protecting himself, his little sister and best friends. Left with no choice but to put on a strong face and fight. When in reality, they were just children. Children who had lost. Children who needed someone to tell them everything would be okay. Yet despite the aching void, despite the helplessness, they survived.

He gave me a look that told me he understood. "Alright. I'll teach you. I'll teach you well, so you can punch Daniel."

I cracked a smile at his joke. "Now that I'm down for."

"Oh, you want to punch me that badly?" The devil itself swept behind me and—

Before I even had a second to absorb his presence. Every detail of him that stole my attention. From his black sneakers, to his black jeans, and black cotton shirt that outlined the broad strength of his back muscles. The chain he loved to wear around his neck, contrasting against the gold streaks in his hair.

And his smell. Now familiar and—my God. I missed it. The realization left me speechless.

He stepped too close to Niko until their noses touched, and his feral grin was nothing but a threat. "Don't you need to know how to fight before you teach someone?"

I blinked in surprise at his territorial tone. Was he jealous?

"Calm down, bro—"

"Show me."

"Dude, you're barely recovering. Can you—"

"Aw, what is it? You scared?" Volkov walked into him, chest to chest, with that sadistic curl of his lip asking for trouble. "I won't hurt you too badly, don't cry."

"You're completely insane—"

Volkov drove his fist into Niko's gut, making me flinch. Poor Niko barely had a chance to recover, before Volkov locked his arm around his neck.

"What are you doing?" Andrei waltzed in with Charlotte. "You idiot! Aren't you barely just recovering?"

But Niko and Volkov flew on the padded mat, a ball of muscles rolling around. I couldn't tell who was winning. But every punch and kick was followed with breathless grunts and laughing, as if they wanted to end up in the hospital.

"Anyway, I ran into my dad today." I turned to Andrei and Charlotte.

As expected, the fighting stopped.

"What?" Volkov jumped in front of my face. All the humor gone. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did."

He did not appreciate my nonchalance. "What did he want."

"Nothing. He just...seemed suspicious. Asked me why I was working at Rebel Ink. He wanted me to spy on you, I said no."

I kept my poker face on, leaving out the part that my dad threatened to leave me without a job, unless I dragged Volkov to his estate this weekend. Where he'd be surrounded by his enemies, by the very people who had murdered his mom and ruined his life. How fucked up would I have to be to ask him for such a favor?

"What are you not telling me?" Volkov bounced his gaze between my eyes.

"Nothing."

"Don't lie."

"I'm not." It took a great amount of effort to not cross my arms.

"Don't. Lie." His gaze pierced and locked me in place, calm with authority. But his voice was different. It was softer. Intimate. "You can't hide from me. I've already told you, haven't I?"

How ironic. My entire life, I fought and begged to be seen. Really seen. And this guy bulldozed through every wall as if they were nothing.

And I liked that. I shouldn't have. But I did.

"He wants you all at my mom's charity event this weekend." I glanced at the rest of them, noting their concerned faces. "It's at their lakefront vineyard. She hosts this big party with friends and relatives, selling art and whatnot. It's super pretentious. He wants us to stay the night."

"He's suspicious." Volkov seemed pleased.

"That's what I just said."

"No, you said he seemed suspicious."

"It's the same thing." I snapped. "Why does it matter—"

"I'm right and you're wrong—"

"Daniel." Andrei chided before I could explode.

"We have to stay the night?" Charlotte grimaced.

Which meant Volkov and I would have to share a room. A room that only had one bed, since we were married. We locked eyes, as if realizing the same thing.

That wouldn't be awkward. At all.

"Maybe he's not just trying to keep an eye on us," Andrei said. "Maybe it's a distraction."

"Yeah, but if we don't go, it might make things worse," said Niko. "It could be a test."

"Fine, then we'll go," Volkov decided like we were just choosing what to eat for takeout.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Can you really tolerate being around...all those people?"

He knew what I was asking. Because three nights ago, I had seen the pain on his face, the self-hatred, the disgust. When he brought that waiter down to his knees to fool Marko. When he had smiled and laughed with him.

Because as much as Volkov pretended to be the bad guy, he wasn't. That's what he needed others to believe, to protect what was left of his family, and to save those my dad felt entitled to hurt.

"Of course, I can," he said with a heartbreaking smile. "Should be a piece of cake."

A/N
Hope you guys like the tension and you're excited for the one-bed trope hehehe