Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(73)

“But what about—”

“Zatknis’—Shut up. Do as I said.”

Abram didn’t argue further.

Kaz wasn’t usually one to lash out, but he was angry, angrier than he had been in a long time. And it wasn’t because of Carmine bumping him, but because of what he’d said—or rather, the things he hadn’t. Before, he hadn’t cared enough to question Vasily about his uncle, or about the meeting, but now he needed answers.

And he would get them.





Violet stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking her time to touch up her makeup while she had the chance. She was alone in the restroom, which was unusual considering it was in a semi-busy hall of the college. But she was grateful for the privacy all the same.

Smoothing her hands down the front and sides of her dress to smooth out the lace fabric that always seemed to ride up or crinkle, her fingers hitched in their travels over her hips. It was automatic reaction—an ache pulsed between her thighs when she pressed her fingers into that one spot, because she knew what was there.

Or what had been there.

Marks. The smallest of bruises that didn’t hurt at all.

His marks.

Kaz.

Violet shook her head, needing away from those thoughts as she focused back on her reflection. Her classes for the day were almost over, thankfully. She had one left, and then she was free for the evening.

Already, she was considering messaging Kaz to meet up with her somewhere safe. As long as she stayed off her father’s radar, and wasn’t called away, she didn’t worry all that much.

And it was becoming a habit she didn’t want to break.

She typed a text. Kaz answered.

She asked him away. He went.

Violet liked it more than she should. It was a stupid game to be playing with a man that was entirely off-limits to her in a big way. Whatever they were doing—whatever they were—was not something that would be able to continue on forever.

It all was going to end eventually.

She just wasn’t sure this was the time.

Fluffing out the waves of her hair with her fingers, Violet leaned a little closer to the mirror. Tipping her head to the side, the blonde strands fell over her neck, exposing the tight collar of her dress that fit snugly around her throat.

He was usually so careful, she thought.

He never left something that might be seen by someone else. Not something that would be obvious, or might get them—her—in trouble.

But Kaz had left something a little too close to the column of her neck a couple of days earlier. Just a small mark on her right collarbone—his teeth.

And Christ, it had been good.

That pain was good.

Addictive.

Violet tugged the collar of her dress outward from her neck, exposing the discolored mark to her reflection. She had the means to hide it if she needed to—clothes and makeup, but she couldn’t help but keep going back to it every single time she had the chance to do so without being caught or questioned.

Before she could think better of it, Violet grabbed her phone from her purse resting on the bathroom counter. She unlocked the device, opened the messages, and found the contact she wanted. Holding the phone at an angle that would keep her face hidden, she snapped a shot, making sure the mark was visible, and then sent it off.

A message quickly followed, but not from who she expected when she glanced back down at the phone.

Her father’s number lit up the screen. For a moment, Violet panicked, thinking she had sent that picture to the wrong person, but she opened up the message to find it was just coincidence.

Gee will be at the main entrance of the University in ten minutes, the text read. Another followed right after. Do not keep him waiting.

Violet cussed under her breath, gaze cutting back to the mirror. How in the hell was she supposed to fix her grades—yet another thing her father still wasn’t aware of—and manage to keep from flunking out the semester, if she couldn’t even get a full day of classes in?

It didn’t even matter.

She glanced back down at her phone again, waiting for a message from Kaz, responding to that picture.

It didn’t come.

She didn’t have the time to wonder why.

Her father was waiting.





Violet found the Gallucci mansion lit up and full of people when she arrived. The tone of her father’s text message had not suggested there was a last minute party or dinner going on that he wanted her to attend, so she was confused at the sight of so many vehicles and people milling about.

That idea quickly faded away when she realized it was all men.

Her father’s men.

Gee, who would usually open her door to let her out, exited the vehicle without so much as a goodbye. Violet, more confused than ever, grabbed her messenger bag and purse off the floor before leaving the backseat of the car. Inside the house, she found several familiar faces going in between rooms and chatting quietly.

Too quietly for her to really discern what was being said.

After she had put her things away—but made sure to keep her phone hidden in her dress pocket—Violet went in search of her parents. As she passed her father’s men, she heard snippets of conversations she probably wasn’t supposed to, but took note of anyway.

“Russian, yeah,” one man said.

“Carmine was down awful deep in Brooklyn,” said another.