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It was exactly the kind of thing I normally enjoyed my husband doing—and in a flash my mind replayed the memory of Stefan throwing me into the wall the other day, similarly aggressive—but this was completely different.

With Stefan, I had wanted it, wanted him. His forceful behavior was an act of passion, not a threat, and he knew exactly how far to push me. He never caused me any actual pain. Instead, he walked the fine line between dominance and restraint, the air between us charged with an undeniable sexual chemistry, so intense that I had no hope of resisting it. But this?

This wasn’t that.

This was terrifying. This was dangerous. I was clawing at Konstantin’s hand, my breaths becoming labored and difficult as he practically choked me with the tightness of his grip.

“Talk to me like that again, and I’ll slap you so hard you won’t be able to speak,” he growled at me.

I felt my blood go cold as he held me against the wall, his fingers thick and hard against my throat. His cologne was overpowering, his body like a wall, and the more I struggled, the harder it was to get a breath. I was panicking. If only I could close my eyes and disappear, completely disconnect from this moment, from my body. Even though he wasn’t a tall man, he was strong, and he’d pinned me to the wall high enough that I was standing on my tiptoes. But I couldn’t find solid ground beneath me, the soles of my shoes scrambling against the glossy hardwood of the living room floor.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” Konstantin ground out, his face coming closer, his sour breath making me flinch. “Where. Is. Stefan?”

I wanted to spit in his face. Wanted to knee him in the crotch and run. Wanted to scream. Wanted to escape.

But I knew I couldn’t do any of that. If I spit at him, he’d hurt me worse. If I managed to knee him in the balls, he’d probably double over for a second but still be able to grab me before I got out of the apartment. If I screamed, he’d tighten his grip on me.

There was no escape.

“I don’t know,” I croaked, shaking my head.

It was the truth, but I could tell that he didn’t believe me.

“You lying little whore,” he said. “You think you’re different, don’t you? You think you’re better than the women I hire, the women I sell? You’re the same. You might be a kept woman here, but there’s no difference between you and the whores who spread their legs when I tell them to.” With each word, his fingers tightened around my neck. “We could just as easily keep you in a cage as in a penthouse,” he said.

I couldn’t breathe. My fingers came up again to scrape at his hands. I was desperate for air, desperate for freedom. He laughed at my efforts, my attempts to free myself from his clutches. The world around me began to go dark at the edges—my lungs desperate for oxygen, my vision blurring. All I saw was Konstantin and his cold, leering face.

But before everything went black, I heard the door to the condo slam open.

Tori

Chapter 19

“Get the fuck away from her.”

It was Stefan. Konstantin released me, and I nearly collapsed to the floor, my weak legs giving out beneath me. Never had I been more grateful or relieved to see my husband’s cruelly beautiful face. I was still gasping for air as Stefan barreled into the room and got right up in his father’s face.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded.

Konstantin smiled, as if Stefan had merely walked in on him having a conversation with me instead of shoving me against a wall with his hand wrapped around my throat. My vision had cleared and I was able to get back on my feet, but I moved as far away from the Zoric men as I could. Rubbing my throat where it was sore, I was certain I’d see bruises there in the morning.

“Your wife and I were just having a friendly little chat,” Konstantin lied through his teeth. “So glad you showed up when you did.”

Had Stefan seen what his father was doing to me? Konstantin had let me go so quickly, the moment he’d heard Stefan’s voice from the foyer, that it was hard to know if Stefan had seen his father’s hands around my throat, the way I’d been struggling to breathe.

Maybe all he’d noticed from the adjoining room was how intimidatingly close Konstantin was to my body, how he’d been towering over me. But the anger in my husband’s narrowed green eyes made it clear that regardless of what he’d seen from the other room—or thought he’d seen—he still wasn’t buying any of the bullshit his father was selling.

“How the hell did you get in here?” Stefan demanded.

Konstantin scoffed, “You think I don’t have keys to all of your apartments? I’m the one who paid for these properties. The only reason you have this life is because ofme. You’d both do well to remember that.”

Fury flashed in Stefan’s gaze. That gaze I had seen soften when he looked at me, that could reflect such kindness and humor. It was flat and cold now—reflecting only rage. And yet something was holding him back. I could tell he wanted to say more, do more, by the way he clenched his jaw, his hands in tight fists at his sides. But he was fighting to stay calm.

I knew exactly how he must be feeling, but there wasn’t anything either of us could do right now. It was clear we were all trapped in Konstantin’ sick, twisted world. He had all the power.

Was there any way out?

“You need to leave,” Stefan told his father.