Twisted Throne (Bratva Born #2)

3. Adriana

Adriana

The walk is refreshing, and it’s also informative. Barnaby is by my side, but I try not to let his presence stop me from making notes in my mind of all I see.

Things I always ignored as part of the architecture of this place, I see in a totally different light, now I’m a prisoner. The height of the fences. The fact there’s a damn river that might as well be a moat around the boundary of the house. It’s not a proper moat like they have around castles, but it’s basically the same thing. A deep river, diverted in one part to make a circular body of water surrounding the inner gardens. This part has only one bridge across it, and if there was a threat, that bridge could be easily blocked or guarded. Meaning the only way onto the inner part of the estate where the house sits can be blocked off easily.

I’m sure the river is crossable, but anyone trying to do it would be vulnerable and slow. The house has high walls, which are shaped like faux castle walls. They aren’t actual castle walls, and I recall Sian telling me that the reason the house is so well preserved is because it wasn’t a castle, despite appearances, and they couldn’t use it as such. This meant during various skirmishes between the nobility, the house wasn’t used as a fortress by anyone. The lack of attacks means it’s in perfect condition.

However, those walls? They might not be genuine castle fortifications, but they won’t be easy to breach.

There are also armed men here. In England . That’s not usual, or remotely allowed, which means Barnaby has a lot of power and much of it clearly not legal.

“There weren’t armed guards before,” I comment, keeping my tone casual. “I mean, the other times I visited.”

“There were,” he says casually. “They just conceal carried. That’s mostly what they do, but with there being an elevated threat, I’d rather them have more immediate access to their weapons, and an assault rifle is a nice visible deterrent.”

“Deterrent from what?” I ask. “What is the threat?”

He laughs. “Oh, come now. Don’t be coy. We both know that stupid lug from America will be wanting you back.”

I laugh because he won’t. If I can get to him and beg, he might help. I still believe he has a good heart, but he won’t be scouring the earth for me, and Barnaby is mistaken in that. At first, I thought it would be good if Barnaby believed Dimitri would come for me, but it’s not because his paranoia makes it harder for me to get away or get to a phone. “Trust me, Barnaby, you really have the wrong end of the stick there. He won’t be coming for me.”

“Oh, really? He saved you from the auction. Why would he do that?”

The man Barnaby called to accompany us earlier is walking about ten feet behind us, so I’m not sure if he can hear what we’re saying.

“Because he wanted me for show,” I say plainly. “I was useful to him as a pawn in his game with Dorian’s men. But he’s not in love with me, and he will already have moved on.” I add in a lie because I’m playing dirty now. “They were planning a party on the yacht, for the day after you took me, and after the party, he’d have let me go. It scared me because some of Dorian’s crew were still out there.” He wasn’t going to let me go, but there’s no way Barnaby can know that. Hell, I don’t think even Dimitri’s men knew his plans.

“You didn’t sound as if you thought this man was just going to let you go when you talked with my daughter.”

“Well, things change. I realized I’d been foolish not long after. I wasn’t even speaking to him when you raided the yacht.”

He stops walking, turns to me, then tips my chin up so he can look in my eyes. “You truly aren’t in love with this man?”

I sneer, partly its genuine because the sneer is aimed at myself for being pathetic enough to be in love with a man who doesn’t want me. “No, and the same goes for him.” Then because I’m so tired and traumatized by everything, I let the truth slip out along with the tear that runs down my cheek. “All I want, Barnaby is for Cade and I to be safe.”

He takes my hands in his. “Don’t you see, Adriana. I can give you all of that. I can bring Cade here, and his disgusting mother will never see him again. I can marry you. You’d be aristocracy. Untouchable. If I married you and we adopted Cade, he’d inherit all of this. You’d be giving him an entire estate. What will you do otherwise? Run back to California and find some shithole apartment to rent in the city? San Francisco has some of the most expensive real estate in the world. You’d be bringing him up in a closet. Look at all of this. Imagine him having this .”

“I think you’re forgetting … you have a daughter.”

“Daughters don’t inherit the land, sons do. She is more than cared for. I have a trust fund for her, and she gets half a million a year to live on.”

Holy shit. That’s a lot of money. “ A year ?” I squeak. “How? I mean won’t that bankrupt you?”

He laughs again. “Darling, I own a very big portion of London. The rent from some of my properties is hers for life. It’s a lot of money. Now, if we adopt Cade, he could inherit all of this. Unless … unless we had a son of our own. In that case, Cade would have a trust fund set up the same as Sian.”

He looks back at the house and then to me. “I know you have an inquiring mind, and you’d never be fulfilled if you weren’t using it. I have so much history in the family library here, and there’s even more at the house in Scotland.”

“I didn’t know you had a house in Scotland.”

“Oh, yes. It’s not quite as old as this. It was built as a hunting lodge in the early eighteen hundreds, and it has a huge library. Lots of local history in there which honestly needs documenting and a loving hand to organize it. We could spend time there. You could work on the books; we might have a child or two of our own. Our lives could be wonderful. Cade could live here. You’d have the money, social status, and titles as befits such a beauty as yourself.”

He's painting an idyllic picture of a perfect life. In many ways it would be so much better than anything Dimitri could offer me. He’s a mob enforcer. He’s not going to give me stability, not remotely. The problem is my body, my heart, damn—even my soul—is now Dimitri’s as much as I hate it.

Plus, even if Dimitri weren’t in the picture, Barnaby broke all my trust when he conspired with his daughter to kidnap me and hold me captive, an ocean away from my family—from Cade. When he found that creepy picture and decided that I would be his just because I looked like the woman in it, he went off the deep end. Those are the actions of a mad man. No matter how wonderful the future he paints, there is one problem. He’s obsessed with a painting.

No one can ever live up to that.

I’m flesh and blood. I will do things that annoy him, things the girl in the picture that he’s invented as a real being in his sick head would never do. It’s not even just down to how I behave; I truly think he won’t be able to handle a real, living, breathing woman as time goes on because that woman can never be the perfect doll he needs.

Hell, I might have bad morning breath one day, or a bad hair day; how will he react to that? The girl in the picture never does. She’ll never get cramps. Or be sick. Or look less than perfect. When that happens, Barnaby’s fantasy will start to crack. Then what? He’s already shown me flashes of cruelty.

“I don’t think I can be what you’d want,” I say softly. I’m testing him now and seeing for my own benefit, for my own game, just how depraved his tastes are.

“You already are everything I want,” he murmurs.

I glance back at his man who is following us and see he’s wandered farther afield to give us privacy. His gaze is still scanning the area, but he’s not within earshot.

“No, I can’t. You have certain … tastes that I don’t share. I, um, I don’t think I want to be whipped.”

I don’t tell him that I most certainly wouldn’t mind being spanked, and that I have fantasies of being chased and then captured and held down. He really doesn’t need to know that about me.

“Firstly, we will take it at your pace. Secondly, if there are things you really don’t want to do, then we won’t do them. Thirdly, you’re a little liar. You don’t think my daughter didn’t see some of the books you read?”

“Barnaby, I studied English literature; it doesn’t mean I liked all of those books.”

“I don’t think the books she saw were on your curriculum, unless they’re studying modern America authors writing … what did she call it, oh yes, why choose romance with shifters ?”

Heat floods my face. Screw him. Screw Sian even more for betraying my privacy in such a way. I turn and walk away, angry and embarrassed. His laughter follows me, and he soon catches up.

He grabs my arm and spins me around. “I know you have interest in the same things as me in some areas, at least. I also know you thought I was attractive as Sian read your diary, and you said in one entry that I was hot.”

God, it gets worse and worse. She’s such a snake.

“That was your words, hot . I don’t see the issue. You thought I was hot. You are at least intrigued by the things I enjoy. I can give you everything . Frankly, my dear, I don’t think you are behaving rationally right now. Could that be because you are in love with the Bratva thug?”

I yank my arm free as my temper gets the better of me. My dear? He did not. All my strategizing is blown away by the hurricane of my fury.

“You don’t think I’m being rational? You think it is love for Dimitri that has me freaked out by the idea of you and me? Don’t you get it, Barnaby? You’re a creep. You’re the monster under the bed. You’re the thing under the stairs. You stalked me, and your fucking daughter stalked me, and you both spied on me. Betrayed my privacy. You made plans about me. The whole thing is so twisted, and all because I look like a picture in your room? You don’t think that’s fucking creepy and weird?”

Shit, shit, shit. As soon as the words are out, I know I’ve screwed up. I want to take them back and stuff them in my mouth, but I can’t. His gaze turns flinty and cruel.

“I’m the monster, am I? Well, if that’s the case and you really think that, I’ll show you how a monster behaves. If you think I’m a creepy weirdo, why don’t I behave like one. Let’s get you back inside.” He grabs my arm once more, harshly, and drags me toward the house.

“No. Barnaby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, I think you did. Now you will find out just how monstrous I can be.”