boring.
At least, when Kaz was there, she could entertain herself with him. Violet wasn’t used to sitting around doing nothing and … waiting.
Well, that was how Kaz put it.
She wasn't sure what they were waiting for exactly.
Flipping through the television channels, Violet tried to find something interesting enough to keep her attention diverted from the restlessness burrowing deep in her nerves. She understood Kaz’s demands, as far as that went. It was likely people were looking for them—their fathers, most importantly.
She just didn’t understand why he could flash his face in public, but she had to stay put.
Violet had just found a familiar sitcom she enjoyed and got herself comfortably situated on the couch when a ringing started to echo throughout the bottom floor of the townhouse. It took her a full ten seconds to realize it was the house phone. Since their arrival, that phone had rung maybe twice.
And once was a restaurant calling back to confirm the address when a deliveryman had lost it on his way over to deliver their dinner.
Violet scrambled off the couch and went in search of the ringing phone. She found it hanging in the kitchen. Not thinking that she shouldn’t answer the call—Kaz hadn’t said anything about the phone—Violet picked it up.
Her standard greeting—born of habit and culture—was right on the tip of her tongue.
“Ciao?” she asked into the receiver.
“Ah, Italian, even better.”
Violet straightened at the unfamiliar, gruff voice on the other end of the call. While she didn’t know who was calling, the accent was one she had grown used to. The caller’s next words sealed any confusion she might have had left.
“I expected my son to pick up the phone, Miss Gallucci, but better it be you, I suppose. What is that old saying—killing two birds with one stone, no?”
Vasily Markovic.
Fuck.
Somehow … she just had a feeling … Violet knew she’d fucked up.
“I have nothing to say to—”
“I’m sure you don’t,” Vasily interrupted smoothly. “But better you listen for a bit, anyway.”
Violet resisted the immediate urge to slam the phone down on the receiver and then call Kaz. But only because Vasily didn't give her a choice as he started talking before she could.
“What did you think was going to happen, Violet?” the man asked.
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and squeezed the phone a little tighter. “I don’t understand what you mean, Vas—”
“Ah, no, my dear. There’s no need for you to use my name—we’re certainly not familiar enough for that, and I have no intention of becoming familiar enough with you to allow you to use it.”
Jesus.
This man was something else.
Kaz occasionally spoke of his father’s theatrics and the man’s hostile demeanor, but Violet had never experienced it firsthand. She didn't know the man.
“Before we get off topic, I’ll ask again. What did you think would happen after you took off with my son? Did you think you would be allowed to skip off into the sunset toward a happily ever after of your own making?”
Violet opened her mouth to respond with something as equally biting as Vasily’s comments, but his sharp laughter stopped her.
“You’re young, of course,” he said quieter, “and I’m sure that reason alone will be the one and only thing to save you from the worst part of your father’s wrath once he comes looking for you. And, my dear, he will come looking for you.”
A tightening sensation curled around Violet’s chest, threatening to cut off her airways. She knew Vasily was only trying to get a reaction out of her or, worse, frighten her.
But it was working.
“At this point,” Vasily continued, his tone amused as if he were talking about his favorite sports team, “it is no longer a matter of if your father will come looking for you, but when. And you see, when he does, and when he finds you … you should seriously consider what that might mean, girl. For my son, I mean. While I care for Kazimir on some level, I’m beginning to think his cock makes all the decisions where he’s concerned, and I can’t have that. Perhaps this—your father—is the lesson he needs to learn, no matter how badly it’ll end for him. Is that what you want—his blood on your hands because you fancy yourself in love?”
Violet’s teeth clenched. “Go to hell.”
Vasily let out another dark laugh. “Do yourself the biggest favor you can, Violet, and go home to your father before he doesn’t give you a choice. Because if Alberto Gallucci can’t