He dragged a chair over, and I felt Aurora try to jerk back.
“Yes,” she said.
“Aurora, when you married Slavik Ivanov, you swore your loyalty to him, and in doing so, you gave your life to me.”
She nodded her head. “Yes.”
“Anything you know, anything you believe your father has done, you will have to tell me.”
“And I would,” she said. “I only recognize him. I don’t know if my father removed him, or if … I don’t know. I swear.”
I believed her.
“But your loyalty, it is to me and your husband?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then it’s time you graced the mark,” Ivan said, standing.
He snapped his fingers, and that was where I saw Mark, the tattoo artist. There were times Ivan would punch his brand into the flesh of his subjects with a hot branded iron. This was far more subtle.
“Hold out your arm.”
Aurora cradled her arm against her chest. “I don’t like needles.”
“It will hurt, but this will guarantee your safety. You’re pledging your life to mine.”
“You’re removing me from my family,” she said.
Ivan sighed. “Aurora, we both know they’re not your family. I’m very much aware of what your father thinks of me and my organization. He’s willing to put your life on the line. Now, if what you say is true, if you bind yourself to me, to us, to your husband, you will never have to be questioned after an attack like that, again.”
He was talking total bullshit and yet, I had a feeling he meant what he said.
“Now, I can either make this as painless as possible for you or you’re going to hurt for several days, if not weeks.” He moved over to the small firepit he had burning and held up the branding iron. In response, my wife held her arm up as if offering to the gods.
I stifled a smile.
I had no choice but to stand perfectly still as Mark touched my wife. The design was wrapped around her wrist. The wives were always given the ink around their wrist. It was an easy part of the body that was seen. People would know who they belonged to.
The world would now see that Aurora Fredo, now Aurora Ivanov, was my property, but also the subject of Ivan Volkov. Even as he marked her flesh for loyalty, in doing so, he’d also sworn to protect her.
This I found interesting.
I didn’t know why he was doing this.
Mark kept on working, and Aurora winced. He’d stop, and she’d signal him to continue.
I left her side and walked toward Ivan.
“You wanted to question her,” I said. “Why the branding? You could have done this on our wedding night, but you chose not to. Why?”
“I don’t have to answer to you.”
“As one of your brigadiers, I have no choice but to ask why. You can keep the information from me, but to protect you, I need to know the truth.”
Ivan smiled at me.
“Did her father send those men?”
“No,” Ivan said. “Before you got here, I ran the information. The men had been let go before the wedding with Aurora. It would appear your wife had a little … following.”
“Excuse me?”
“The moment her father gave her to you, it set a ripple running through his soldiers. First, they were suddenly going to have to follow the peace treaty, but it would also seem your wife has a reputation for being … liked and respected.”
I glanced back at Aurora.
She was different from the women in our world.
All I’d seen were people who couldn’t seem to stand her.
“We all know her father gave me her because he didn’t want to waste his beloved daughter on a piece of shit like me.”
Ivan smiled. “Yes, I know. We got the waste of space. The insult. It would seem to a lot of people, she is second best. She’s not as beautiful or as charming. But those who clearly got to know her, they become … besotted.”
I thought of Sergei.
“I can see that,” I said.
A whimper escaped Aurora.
“Do you think she’s behind the attack?” If my wife had done this, then why did she put herself in the line of fire? “Wait a minute.” I turned to Ivan. “Your sources are wrong.”
“Excuse me?”
“Aurora was not … she was attacked tonight. They called her a traitorous bitch. Aurora doesn’t have her own following.”
The only sign that Ivan had heard my words was the clenching of his jaw. He looked ready to commit murder.
Mark finished up the ink, and as he did, Aurora whimpered. I took a step toward her. Mark applied a Band-Aid to keep it covered. The tattoo was in an easily infected area. He gave her the rundown of care.
The moment he finished, she stood up, and I went to her side, tucking her against me.
“Aurora, can I ask you a question?” Ivan asked.
She nodded her head.
“Were you liked at home?”
She jerked within my gaze, and I saw the tears in her eyes. “Why? Is this to punish me for what my father did?”
“Were you respected? Loved? Liked?”
“Mr. Volkov, people didn’t even know I existed, and if they did, they made me very much aware of just how unimportant I was.”
Chapter Six
Aurora
My wrist hurt.
My head hurt.
My back hurt.
Everything fucking hurt. Yet, nothing seemed to be quite as painful as the knowledge that my family and everyone around them didn’t like me.
“Were you respected? Loved? Liked?”
Ivan’s questions played in my head on a mocking repeat. No one liked me. No one even cared about me.
I was given to Slavik and the Volkov Bratva because my father didn’t want to give away the daughter he actually loved.
Tears filled my eyes, and I hated how I felt, the way I was reacting. Tilting my head back, I stared up at the pool room. Sergei had cleared the pool so I could use it. Every other time, I always felt a little embarrassed at the power he used for my comfort. Today, a week after getting the tattoo that aligned me with the Bratva, I needed to do something other than sit in the apartment. Even reading wouldn’t rid my mind of these thoughts. I tried so hard not to let them consume me, but it was next to impossible.
Rubbing at my temple, I took a deep breath, aware of Sergei watching me. He’d been really sweet and kind to me. I didn’t know if that was part of his job description, but I didn’t know how to handle it.
I wasn’t one for a pity party. At least not every single day.
Today, a week after the attack and the questioning from Ivan Volkov himself, the pain of my past just wouldn’t go away. All the memories surrounded me, refusing to leave me be. The way people ignored me, even as a child. When I wanted to play. I was never good enough. Often left to read as the other kids couldn’t stand me.
My mother would tell me to leave the kids alone. If they didn’t want to play with me, then maybe there was something wrong with me.
No matter how kind I was, I wasn’t liked. At parties, I was ignored. No one asked me to dance. I spent most of my time standing in the corner, watching all the fun happening, knowing I was never going to be part of it. The shopping trips. I watched Isabella so often get invited.