Page 21 of Claimed By Daddy
My throat tightens, and I feel like I’m suffocating. “Kidnapping?”
Nikolai nods. “We’ve seen how they operate out there—behind the curtain of a party neither of us wanted to attend. If they take her, being forced to marry might seem like it would’ve been a blessing.” My fist now clenches so tightly at the thought of her being tossed into a sex trafficking ring that my nails pierce my palm, filling it with blood.
“The three of us can protect her. We can keep her safe.” Her eyes flick to mine, and I know she hears what I’m really saying:I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe.
My brain can’t seem to comprehend the reality before me. I hear the words, but they don’t feel real. Arranged marriage or the skin trade—either way, getting raped until there’s nothing left.
This can’t be my life. I went to bed, wrapped in Enzo, and happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I thought my biggest hurdle was going to be telling Cillian what happened while he was gone. Instead, my world is crumbling, and they’re all trying to decide how to keep me safe.
My hands won’t stop shaking. My stomach is in knots and feels hollow at the same time. I grip the edge of the island, physically holding on to something to prevent myself fromspiraling. I stand up slowly, my knees buckling—the movement taking far more effort than it should. I need air. I need space. To be anywhere that isn’t this kitchen with three sets of concerned eyes boring through me. Somewhere Enzo isn’t, so I’m not compelled to wrap myself in his arms for comfort.
“I’m gonna go out on the terrace,” I manage. “Just for a minute.”
Cillian pushes his stool from the island like he’s going to follow me, but Nikolai grips his shoulder and shakes his head. “Let her go,” he insists. “Give her some time.” Cillian exhales a heavy sigh as I walk from the kitchen, but he doesn’t move.
I don’t look at Enzo as I leave. I can’t.
When I step onto the terrace, the crisp morning air assaults my skin. It’s brutally cold, but exactly what I needed. I walk to the rail and lean against it—over it a little further than I should. Staring blindly into the city skyline, I fight the urge to cry. A battle I do not win. Tears trickle down my face uncontrollably at the thought of the life the three of them are trying to protect me from.
Their conversation grows loud, and I glance over my shoulder to find all of them animatedly imparting their stance on the matter. Enzo catches my stare, and his harsh expression quickly softens, his eyes suddenly filled with pain. He turns to my brother and Nikolai, shouts something I can’t make out, and throws his hands in the air before storming from the kitchen and through the living room.
Not wanting him to see me crying, I turn my eyes back to the city. The door slides open behind me, and I know without a doubt it’s Enzo. He moves quietly, his bare feet not making a sound on the terrace stones. I startle when a blanket is draped over my shoulders—thick and warm—his hand lingering on my shoulder. Standing far too close, he dusts down my arm, slow and gentle, until his hand finds mine. He squeezes it and reassuringly whispers his promise, “I’ll kill them all to keep you safe.”
I don’t doubt a word he says, and his conviction is terrifying. Returning his grip on my hand, I close my eyes and fight the urge to bury my face in his chest. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know it’s true…”
He lets his hand slip from mine—his fingertips holding onto me as long as possible, like it’s physically painful for him to let me go—and his silence says everything I need to know. I lift my head to find him sitting on a lounger a few feet away from me. His eyes are dark and stormy, filled with something I don’t have a name for. Something that both calms and unravels me.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
“You’re allowed to be, princess. You don’t have to pretend to be okay. Not with me.” Enzo shifts in his seat, turns away from me, and focuses his attention on the sprawling skyline. From the kitchen, with the distance between us, we probably look more like two strangers than lovers. “But I promise you… I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
As much as I want to believe him, I know the world we live in. It’s bloody and ruthless—these brutal men always get exactly what they want. I pull the blanket tighter around me, like it’s going to keep me from falling apart, and lean into the railing. Enzo’s head falls solemnly to his chest when I softly sob. “Fuck,” he mutters. “It’s fucking killing me not to be able to wrap my arms around you. To give you just a moment of comfort.”
“God… I want that, too,” I sigh.I need it.
“I’ll tell him.” Enzo looks at me, and he’s serious.So fucking serious.Like he’s already decided that we are worth it, regardless of the consequences. “I’ll take his wrath. Because I’m not walking away from you.”
“I’m not walking from you either,” I softly insist. “But we can’t. Not right now.” It’s not because I don’t feel the same way he does. Or because I don’t believe in us. Because, as ridiculous as it is for how little of a time I’ve known him, I do.It’s Cillian I’m worried about. “He can’t deal with us right now.” Glancing through the windows, I find him pacing back and forth like he’s trying to wear a groove into the hardwood floor. He is distraught about the predicament our father has left him. One that I know hits too close to home.
I was too young to remember it or even understand it when it happened, but this situation with the Armenians is far too similar to how we lost our mother. Taken by a Balkan gang trying to find a place in this city, thinking they could use her as a bargaining chip to force our father’s hand. Only, they grossly overestimated how much he loved his wife—not nearly as much as he loved his empire.
My thoughts drift, and they’re dark. “Do you know how our mother died?” I ask, choking around the knot in my throat, worrying that I’ll meet the same fate.
Enzo shoots up from his seat and quickly closes every inch of distance between us—my question clearly striking a nerve. Towering over me, his heated breath blows from his flaring nostrils and over my face.He’s too close…My eyes dart into the apartment, making sure Cillian isn’t watching. “Don’t look at him. Look at me,” Enzo barks, demanding my attention without laying a finger on me. “I know you’re scared and overwhelmed right now, so I’m going to let that go. But I do not appreciate your downplaying of what I feel for you, princess.Iamnothinglike your father.”
“Enz…” I mutter, my heart breaking at how upset he is—how hurt.
“You are not discardable. Do you understand me? I would walk away from everything this second if it meant I didn’t need to worry about your safety. And if you can’t see that yet, then I’m clearly not doing a good enough job of showing you.”
He slips his hand inside the blanket and leisurely drags his knuckles along the curve of my hip. “You’re mine, princess,” he whispers, his dark chocolate eyes locked on mine and his gaze searing through my soul, as his ire subsides. “Nothing in this world will keep me from you. Not your brother. Not some fucking Armenians. Nothing. Understood?”
“Yes.” I nod, swallowing down the tightness in my throat. “Yes, Daddy.”
My fingers rest against the curve of her hip, under the thin throw blanket I wrapped her in. It’s reckless, but I can’t bring myself to pull my hand away. It clings to her like the late-spring frost on the metal railing running the length of the terrace.
