Page 69 of All The Darkest Truths (Second Sons Duet #2)
“Not yet.” Victor's tone remains pleasant, but there's an edge to it now. He adjusts his cufflinks, an unnecessary gesture that speaks volumes about his growing impatience. Another glance at his watch confirms what I already suspect, someone important is missing.
The silence stretches uncomfortably as servants bring out the first course—delicate plates of caviar nestled on beds of ice. Victor finally takes his seat at the head of the table with a barely suppressed sigh.
“My son,” he announces, “is late. As usual.”
As if summoned by his father's displeasure, the doors swing open once more. Dmitri Petrov strides into the dining hall with unhurried confidence.
The years have hardened Dmitri into something foreign.
He's filled out since I last saw him, his once-lanky frame now muscled and imposing beneath his tailored suit.
His features are a striking amalgamation of his cousins.
His hair is cropped shorter than I remember, accentuating the sharp angles of his jawline. A thin scar bisects his left eyebrow.
Dmitri moves with grace toward his designated spot, watching me with every step. There’s no warmth in his gaze—only calculation, curiosity, and something shadowed I can’t quite name.
He settles between his father and Oscar.
The three generations of Petrov men form a visual dynasty across the table.
His movements are measured as he unfolds his napkin and places it in his lap, all while keeping that unwavering focus on my face.
It’s as though he’s trying to reconcile the woman before him with the girl he once knew—the one who vanished before their arranged marriage could be fulfilled.
“Vesper,” he finally says, my name rolling from his tongue with a hint of his father’s accent.
“Dmitri,” I reply.
His gaze drops to the necklace resting against my throat, his expression flickering briefly before returning to careful neutrality.
Victor clears his throat. “Now that we're all present,” he says with pointed emphasis, “we can begin.” He lifts one elegant hand, signaling the servants who line the walls.
They spring into action. The soft clink of fine china and the gentle ring of crystal glasses fill the room as the first course is placed before each of us.
I lift my fork, feeling Victor's gaze pressing against my skin as I sample the delicate blini topped with glistening black caviar.
No one speaks. The only sounds are the gentle scrape of silver against china and the occasional crystalline note of a glass being set down. Talon's knee presses against mine beneath the table. A silent reminder that I'm not alone.
Z sets his glass down with a soft clink. The servants reappear as if summoned by the sound, whisking away our barely-touched appetizer plates with efficiency.
Attendants emerge from hidden doors, bearing silver platters that steam in the chandelier light. They place a portion of what appears to be venison, surrounded by roasted root vegetables, before each of us.
Victor lifts his knife and fork, the silver catching the light.
“I find myself in a rather unexpected position,” Victor says, voice calm but laced with weight. “This morning, I executed a woman who deceived me for years...only to discover the rightful Rossi heir seated at my table.”
“It seems fate has corrected its own mistake. The alliance that should have been formed years ago can now proceed as originally intended.”
I feel Z tense across the table.
“A union between our families,” Victor continues, dabbing his lips with his napkin, “through the marriage of my son Dmitri to Vesper Rossi.”
The words hang in the air. Dmitri's expression remains unreadable, though his eyes never leave my face.
“Now that his first wife is no longer with us,” Victor adds with chilling casualness, “there are no obstacles to this arrangement. The paperwork is already being prepared.”
Z’s fork clatters against his plate, the sharp sound slicing through the silence of the dining hall and pulling every gaze to him. His face is tight, unreadable, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he calmly picks the utensil back up. The air around him hums with barely restrained tension.
“Are you unwell, nephew?” Victor inquires.
“Fine, Uncle,” Z responds, his voice strained. “The meat is...exceptional.”
Victor chuckles humorlessly. “There is, however, one matter we should address before proceeding further.” He sets down his knife and fork, folding his hands on the table's edge.
“Your...relationships with my nephews and your security guard. Do not deny it, Miss Rossi,” Victor continues, swirling the vodka in his glass.
“Sergei was quite thorough in his report of your activities aboard my jet. Quite thorough indeed.”
Dmitri's head snaps toward his father, then back to me, his jaw clenching visibly.
“While I appreciate your...enthusiasm for forging alliances with the Petrov bloodline,” Victor says, his tone dripping with mock civility, “I must insist that such arrangements cease immediately upon your marriage to my son. A Petrov bride comes to her marriage without complications. My son does not share well, do you, my boy?”
“No, Father. I do not.”
“I wasn't aware my personal relationships were already under your jurisdiction,” I reply, keeping my voice steady despite the hammer of my pulse. “Our alliance hasn't even been formalized.”
“Everything within these walls is under my jurisdiction, Miss Rossi. Including you, now that you've accepted my hospitality.”
I force myself to take a sip of water, buying precious seconds to compose my response. “I appreciate the clarification. Though I wonder, does your son share your views on ownership?”
“My father and I are in complete agreement on matters of family.”
“How fortunate,” I reply, setting my glass down with deliberate care.
Z clears his throat, drawing his uncle's attention. “Speaking of family matters,” he says, his tone carefully neutral despite the tension radiating from him, “I'm curious about my nephew. When might we meet him?”
Victor's expression shifts, calculation replacing condescension. “In due time. The boy is at our country estate, away from...distractions.”
“Surely his mother deserves to see him,” Talon interjects, speaking for the first time since the meal began.
“Mr. St. James,” Victor replies, his tone glacial, “I don't recall asking for your input.”
“And yet, you've received it,” Talon replies, meeting Victor's stare with unwavering calm. “Vesper deserves to see her son.”
The tension in the room thickens to something almost tangible. I place my hand on Talon's arm, both a warning and a show of solidarity.
“My security chief speaks out of concern for me,” I say smoothly, redirecting Victor's attention. “But he raises a valid point. When can I expect to meet my child?”
Victor studies me over the rim of his glass. “Soon enough. Once certain...arrangements are finalized.”
“You mean once I'm legally bound to your son,” I clarify. “Using my child as leverage seems beneath a man of your stature, Victor.”
A ghost of a smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Not leverage, my dear. Insurance. In my experience, mothers are unpredictable when reunited with children they've never known. I prefer to ensure your full commitment to our arrangement first.”
“And what exactly does this arrangement entail?” I ask, keeping my voice level even as anger coils tight in my gut.
Victor gestures to a servant who immediately steps forward with a velvet box. He places it on the table between Dmitri and me.
“My son has something for you,” Victor says, nodding to Dmitri.
Dmitri reaches for the box, his movements deliberate as he opens it to reveal a ring that makes my breath catch.
The diamond at its center is enormous, at least five carats, surrounded by smaller rubies that match the necklace around my throat.
It's ostentatious, a physical manifestation of Petrov wealth and power designed to be seen from across a room.
“A fitting symbol of our alliance,” Dmitri says, his voice revealing nothing as he removes the ring. He extends his hand across the table, palm up, clearly expecting me to place my hand in his.
I hesitate just long enough for tension to thicken the air before slowly extending my left hand. Dmitri's fingers are warm and dry as they close around mine, his grip firm as he slides the ring onto my finger. It's heavy and constricting.
“Perfect fit,” Victor remarks with satisfaction. “Just as I knew it would be.”
Across the table, Z’s expression goes completely blank—that unsettling stillness I’ve come to recognize as a warning sign, the calm that conceals his most volatile emotions. Oscar, meanwhile, studies his plate with unusual intensity, as if it holds the answers to questions no one wants to ask.
“The wedding will take place tomorrow at noon. I’ve arranged for the priest to come to the family chapel on the estate. I’ll send out the necessary invitations to the Russian families and close friends.”
The announcement lands like a grenade at the table. My fingers tighten around my water glass as I process his words.
“Tomorrow? That seems rather...expedient.” The lie spills from my lips easily. I had anticipated the expedition. With my grandfather’s own timeline, acceleration is fine by me. Victor just doesn’t need to know that.
“Dragging things out serves no purpose. Especially considering how eager I am for more heirs. The Petrov legacy must be secured. On that note,” Victor continues, setting down his utensils with deliberate precision, “I've taken the liberty of arranging for a physician to examine you this evening.
To verify that your...entanglements haven't resulted in complications.”
My stomach lurches. “Complications?”
“Pregnancy,” Victor clarifies with brutal directness. “Terminating one would only cause unnecessary delays.” He takes a sip of vodka, watching me over the rim of his glass. “Consider it my wedding present.”
Talon's hand moves to his thigh, where I know he keeps a concealed weapon. I press my foot against his under the table, a silent warning. We can't afford a confrontation. Not yet.
“How considerate,” I say, my voice dripping with false gratitude as I set down my fork. “Though I assure you, such measures are unnecessary.”
“Indulge me. I prefer certainty in all matters related to my family's bloodline considering your recent revelations about your cousin.”
“Of course,” I acquiesce, forcing a smile that feels like shattered glass. “Whatever puts your mind at ease.”
Victor's attention shifts to Dmitri, something passing between father and son in that silent exchange. “You've been uncharacteristically quiet, my son. Are you not pleased with your bride-to-be?”
Dmitri studies me across the table. “She's everything you promised, Father.” His voice reveals nothing of his thoughts. “I look forward to...continuing our family's legacy.”
“It occurs to me, Vesper, that your grandfather should be present for tomorrow's ceremony. I think it would be...appropriate for him to witness. His granddaughter fulfilling her destiny. Joining our families as was originally intended. Arrange it.”
Dmitri's eyebrows lift slightly. The first genuine reaction I've seen from him all evening.
“As you wish, Victor,” I force from my lips.
“Please, we are family now, child. You may call me father.”