Page 9 of Fame
“You are one twisted fuck, Bayev,” Shaw says.
“I am what I am,” Zinovy deadpans.
“You consent to my giving Amaliya to him then?” my father ask with the same conversational gravitas one might give while ordering a latte at a coffeeshop.
My whole life, I’ve known my existence, like everyone else’s, boils down to being a chess piece on a board for the Machiavellian pleasure of the pakhan. Still, there’s a needy thing inside me that rebels at his casual maneuvering of my future. I want to be more to him than just an asset to deploy.
“You aren’t giving LeeLee to me. You’re giving me to her,” Shaw rebuts. “If she’ll have me.”
“Can I keep my tattoo machine?” I step into the room, and all three men turn to me at once. Zinovy looks as invested in my arrival as a vegetarian presented with a ribeye.
“Amaliya…what…uh…” I’ve never seen Shaw at a loss for words, but the way he’s floundering now will crack me up if I don’t keep my mirth locked down.
My father, though? He’s got an arrogant glint in his eye that tells me things are playing out exactly as he desires.
“My tattoo machine. Promise I can keep it if I go with you,” I repeat. I’m going either way, but it’s important to begin as I mean to carry on. I’ll be damned if I’ll train my man to do anything less than spoil me.
“Sure, I guess. If you want to.” It’s almost a question. This time, there’s no hiding the little smirk his easy acquiescence gives me.
“And I can work at the shop. Help out while I practice, like Ace did,” I press.
“Yeah, you can come to the shop with me. I can keep you safest when you’re with me. It’s a good idea.”
Shaw and Zinovy can’t see my father’s face, so they both miss the way he winks at me.
“And you’ll teach me to ride my own bike.” I’m pushing my luck, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “A motorcycle.” I clarify, lest he think he can get me on a technicality later.
“Now, that’s just—” Shaw starts.
“Just what? A great idea. I know it is. A fantastic idea, really. I should learn how to drive your truck, too. Just in case. It’s the safe thing to do, right, Daddio?”
My use of the nickname has his face going red, and he turns hastily toward my father. Now, I really can’t hold back thegiggles. Shaw’s so panicky even Zinovy looks less bored watching our drama.
“You should go,” my father instructs. “Take Amaliya with you. You can collect her things later, and I expect you to bring her back tomorrow, so her mother can continue the wedding preparations.”
Dread floods me, washing away the giddiness. Just because Shaw came for me, doesn’t mean he intends to marry me. My father goes too far. I open my mouth to argue that marriage is too soon, but Shaw beats me to it.
“Yes, Pakhan. As you desire. We’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.
“Good. Plan to have dinner here. Irina will want to interrogate you, though she’ll call it getting to know you. You will answer her questions, yes?”
“Absolutely,” Shaw assures him.
Before I have time to process the colossal ways my entire world just shifted, I’m heaved through the air into a fireman carry, and he’s limping through the house and out the front door.
“Slow down!” I snort through my laughter as I jostle and bounce on the hard curve of his shoulder.
“Not gonna happen, Duchess. Not now that I’m getting everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m not risking you changing your mind. Or the pakhan changing his.” Shaw tosses me gently into the passenger seat that’s high enough I’d have been climbing up into it for an embarrassingly long time on my own.
“I’m getting you home and showing you what happens to Little Girls who tease, taunt, and tempt their Daddies for monthsand months.” Dark lust makes promises I desperately hope he delivers on.
“Okay, Daddy. I’m ready for my lesson,” I simper.
There’s a time for bratting, and a time for reaping what I’ve sown. And right now? Now’s the start of a very, very overdue harvest season.
CHAPTER 11
FAME
