“You’re quite the princess, aren’t you?” Murphy says with a frustrated huff.
“He raped me, Murphy. He attacked me and Luca and then he raped me! I want him dead,” Renata says it to Murphy, but her eyes never leave Anya. This whole thing is about Anya because Renata wants to hurt her.
“Oh, fuck off,” Murphy says with a look of incredulity. “We both know that’s not fucking true. This isn’t the first time you’ve cried wolf to get a slave killed.”
Renata looks insulted and I almost want to laugh. “I never—”
“Shut your mouth, Renata. Our family has been putting security cameras in Vittori family guest rooms for over a decade of meetings that we’ve hosted. Your family is always causing problems. Keep talking if you want me to go look at the footage from your room. Always fucking causing trouble, fucking Vittoris.”
Her wide-open mouth clamps shut, and she turns her head away.
Murphy rubs his hand over his beard. “Well, fuck. This is going to end disastrously if I send you back home with her now.”
I watch Anya’s chest fall as she lets out a slow breath and though she tries to keep her tone even and her words steady, they come out hurried and insistently. “Let us stay here…under the care of the O’Sheas. I no longer feel safe with the Vittoris. If she puts Ezra’s life at risk, the stress it causes me could be detrimental to the health of my baby. The four families can’t afford to lose my child. Give me and Ezra shelter here and send the Vittoris home tonight. The safety of the Mikhailov heir has been threatened.”
“I’ve made no such threat to your child’s safety!” Renata charges forward, but Anya lifts her gun higher, with more confidence. “You’re the one pointing a gun!”
“A gun you meant to have Ezra killed with! A gun Lorenzo nearly shot me in the stomach with because of your lies!”
“Ladies,” Murphy interjects, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m not in the mood for this bullshit.”
“Please, Murphy,” Anya pleads gently. “I’ve been through enough. You wouldn’t put Stella through what I’ve been through. Don’t put me through more.”
Murphy looks up, his eyes falling on the back of Anya’s head. His face looks somehow kinder, but there’s also a look of confusion, as if he’s just figured something out that shouldn’t make sense. “If I say yes, will you put the gun down?”
“If you say yes and arrange for Renata and Lorenzo to leave tonight, then I will put the gun down.”
Renata points her finger in Murphy’s direction. “I approved your bride as a favor, Murphy. Stella was never fit to be one of us, but I gave my approval because you asked me for it. You owe me.” She turns her finger to me. “Kill Ezra and do it now.”
I feel the shift in his energy from calm negotiator to all-powerful king. “I owe you nothing. We both know that giving you women first approval rights on brides is just a social nicety.” He chuckles darkly. “Do you honestly believe I wouldn’t have married her if you’d said no?”
Renata seethes, fury rippling from her in waves.
“This has gotten out of hand,” Lorenzo finally says. “We’ll leave now, but I want my gun back.”
“Anya,” Murphy starts, “give him his gun and go back to your room.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not giving anyone this gun until my talent slave is away from here and his safety is assured.”
“Christ.” Murphy sighs. “Call your pilot to be ready for departure within the hour. I’ll bring your gun when I have them settled.” He shakes his head. “You Vittoris cause so much fucking drama.”
Shock and rage clamber for control of Renata’s features as I feel the burden of fear slowly lift from my shoulders.
Anya slowly, gradually lowers the gun, but she refuses to give it up.
Chapter 20
Anya
I hold my position on my knees, gun in hand, aimed at Renata. At my insistence, she sends Luca to her room to get the key to remove the padlock and Ezra’s collar. I wait until it falls free from his neck and lands heavily on the floor before I lower the gun. But I don’t give it up. Not yet. I hold it tightly in my grip until Murphy has led Ezra and I back to my room and he shuts the door.
Murphy holds out his palm. “Hand it over, lass.”
“Where will he be staying?” I’m not giving up this gun until I know Ezra will be behind a locked door that Renata and Lorenzo can’t access before they leave.
Murphy sighs. “Am I going to regret it if he stays in your room?”
My pulse thrums with unexpected hope. “You would let him stay with me?”
“It’s probably against my better judgment, but since my home is a fortress and there are extra security measures in place while my wife…adjusts to her new lot in life, I’ll allow you to keep your talent slave for now. Do you have any plans to point a gun at my head?”
I swallow. “No.” As a show of good faith, I hand him the gun.
He takes it with a sigh. “Fuck, I’ve gone soft. Listen,” he points his finger in my face and I lean back from the intensity of it. “I’m only doing this for you because Renata is on my last fucking nerve. If you test me, you will regret it. If you behave yourselves, then we won’t have a fucking problem. Understood? There is no escaping my home, so don’t even think about trying.”
I nod. “Understood.”
Murphy turns and walks toward the door, then stops and spins back to us, looking at Ezra. “Do you understand what’s at stake here, slave boy? You step out of line and try to cross me, and I will hurt you in ways you never imagined.”
“Yeah, I get it,” Ezra says.
Murphy gives him a once over. “I really hope you do.” Then he looks at me pointedly. “Watch him. You’re responsible for his behavior. He fucks up, you’ve fucked up. And you know I’ll make you pay for it.” He turns the knob and pulls the door open. “Lock this,” he says before he slams the door shut behind him.
I practically run to the door, turning both the lock on the knob and the deadbolt above it. Then, I press my back to the door and take what feels like the first breath since I saw Ezra lying there on the floor, facing Renata’s wrath in the hallway.
Our eyes meet and my heart aches at the look on his face, at the sight of him trembling and terrified.
Oh, God.
What did she do to him tonight?
He doesn’t just seem frightened for me as he always has been—he looks tortured in his own right. We both move at the same time and meet in the middle of the space between us, nearly colliding. I reach for his bound wrists, my fingers instantly threading between the knots to free him.