Page 3

TWO

Inessa

H aving the devil at my side makes the predator step back, and I lean into Vlad, putting my hand on his chest as the fake voice comes out, “Don’t mind my fiancé. He’s a bit possessive.”

I drop to a stage whisper at the end and look up at him, fighting the urge to throw up. It’s easy to lie when the word is so close to the truth, Vlad is possessed. There’s no saving him. An exorcism would do more harm than good.

I hate this shit, acting like an idiot heiress just to get everyone to stay away from my life. Mother moves closer, locking onto her target as she circles Vlad’s mother. Like recognizes like as they enter their own false niceties, complementing each other’s awful wardrobe.The seam of my mother’s dress is pulled taut over her ass from having it altered to bring attention to it or because she refuses to accept that she needs a bigger size. Who even knows what goes on inside her twisted mind? I gave up attempting to understand her when I was a teenager.

I’ve never given thought to where Vlad came from, but I can’t stop comparing his features to his parents. He’s violent like his father and manages to hide it in a well-tailored suit, and his wolf-like eyes are from his mother. The rest of his features are an equal mix, hair that changes depth depending on the light, andcoarse stubble that shadows his jaw.He’s handsome, brutally so, to match his personality.

He never speaks directly to me in front of other people. I’m an ornament at his side, making Grandfather think everything will be fine. The arrogant bastard had the audacity to demand I sleep with someone the first time he spoke to me. As though I’m a pair of shoes that need breaking in.

Stupid twat.

It’s spiteful and self-sabotaging not doing it. We both know the only way out for me is to give him an heir, and the thought of him touching me should not be exciting. Physically, Vlad is more than appealing. Everything else is fucking rotten, and no amount of cologne will cover the stench.

Dariya instructs everyone to take their seats, and her stern face fills me with strength. She’s the real head of the house, not the men with guns but the woman with a rolling pin who commands everyone. Vlad doesn’t move from my side as Pavel’s creepy eyes rake over my body. My stomach churns as he moves closer and takes the seat beside where I was previously sitting. Without missing a step, Vlad changes our positions and pulls his earlier chair out for me, becoming a physical barrier. He can probably feel the sins coming from his right and wants to soak them up.

Staring ahead blankly, I don’t have to try to look disinterested overhearing the other guests comparing their wealth. A hand lands on my thigh, pulling my attention down. It’s big and has those veins that make me want to trace them with my tongue. The gentleman facade doesn’t stretch to his scarred knuckles and inked hands. The violence they cause can’t be hidden. I turn to the owner of the limb. He’s not looking at me. He’s in conversation with Grandfather and sits back against his seat as Pavel stares at me. He quickly snaps his eyes forward, seeing the claim on my thigh, and I don’t brush Vlad away, allowing the protection it affords.

Everything runs like clockwork under Dariya’s watchful eye, and I force myself to move my food around the plate. I can feel my mother watching, counting how much I’m eating. She’s a twat and didn’t raise me, and I refuse to give her ammunition to be able to strike up a conversation. If anything passes my lips, food, or words, it invites her into an aspect of my life.

Vlad doesn’t move his hand off my thigh. It’s strange, as he never touches me. We’ve been having these dinners for years. Not once has he touched me. I’ve heard the rumors of what he does, and Grandfather reluctantly gave me the option to turn down the engagement when he told me who it would be with. But I’ve been bred for this, literally. My eyes automatically find my father, and resentment builds higher, knowing if he wasn’t such an incompetent piece of shit, I wouldn’t have to be a pawn in some controlling prick’s battle for power. The only thing getting me through it is the clause that we’ll be divorced. It’s uncommon for Vory to allow their wives a divorce—it’s usually easier to beat them into submission or kill them.

Our parents leave after dinner, choosing to continue their wealth game over drinks in the lounge. The devil comes out as soon as we’re alone. Leaning closer to me, Vlad’s eyes are fixed on Pavel’s retreating back, and his question has acid burning my throat.

“Did you choose him because of your daddy issues?”

Smiling sweetly so the onlookers can’t discern our conversation, I stroke his bicep to stop from choking him. My voice is low, and he leans into it automatically. “Do you hate everyone because of your mommy issues?”

There’s no anger staring back at me. He’s proud, the weird fuck. He laughs lightly before opening his mouth to spit another insult when my mother appears on our periphery. He goes into false protective mode. Her usual way of speaking hasn’t changed, posing an order as a question as she looks me up and down, mentally tearing me down.

“Will you be staying with the Vartanovs while they visit?” she doesn’t give me time to answer before she issues her threat, “Or will you be accompanying Pavel?”

I can’t speak, there’s no right answer, and I fucking hate this bitch. Seeing that she’s done what she came to do, my mother attempts to leave as Vlad drops his mask of civility and leans into her.

“Your insinuation is incredibly disrespectful. I’m sure you meant no harm, and the alcohol has loosened your tongue. It would be a shame if something happened to my future mother-in-law, and she missed her only child’s wedding.”

The loose threat has her paling, and he pulls back, picking up the respectable image again.

“Inessa will be staying at my home until the wedding. She will be preparing it to become our home.”

Dismissing her, he sips from his tumbler as the heels clicking fade away. The asshole can’t just change his mind after years. I’m not supposed to live with him until six weeks before the wedding and after the engagement is announced.

There’s too much calm as I study his features, like the ocean right before violent waves crash against the shore. He’s a conceited prick and always makes statements about etiquette while having none himself. My observation has my tongue loosening, not caring about how he’ll erupt.

“You care so much about other people’s manners, yet you send me twelve yellow roses.”

In the five years I’ve been forced to entertain this asshole, he’s never sent me any other arrangement. Sending an even number is bad enough, but having that exact flower is worse. A symbol of sadness and eventual loss given evenly like a funeral.

Circling the tumbler with his middle finger in a repetition of three clockwise then anticlockwise, he looks at me from the corner of his eyes. The smirk is annoying as fuck, matching his arrogant voice.

“It would be rude of me to let you have an illusion of what marriage will look like.”

Hopefully the funeral will be his, and I can live my life however I want.

“Do you always talk like you’re in a Shakespearean play?”

He raises a brow at my question, and his lips lift on both sides. Jesus, he does know how to smile instead of giving annoying half-smirks. Those wolf eyes fill with humor, and he taps it away as he bounces his finger three times on the table.

“Say your goodbyes. I’ll send Dima and Vitali to pick up your things in the morning.”

If I had to marry a Vartanov, they could have agreed with the lesser evils and picked one of his brothers. At least they’re closer to being human than the eldest brother beside me. He may be unknowingly saving me, but I won’t show any gratitude. He’s still an obnoxious pig who would sell his own mother to fulfill his dark desires.

A Vartanov’s life is a life of luxury when I always think of Vlad haunting a cemetery. He’d make a home out of the crypt and float around the grounds, but this is all normal and actually resembles a home. Valentin steps into the hallway as we walk in with his parents still parking, and his face falls when Vlad informs him of their presence.

“Len and Anika are here, have Dima inside and get Vitali home.”

I take in my surroundings, trying to work out where the freak exists in this space. It’s all clean lines and polished stone with a large, curved staircase. There’s a little boy hiding at the top of the staircase, and he scowls down, fixed on Vlad. No one has ever seen the child before. Whispers move amongst the ranks, but the Bratva structure allows each Vor to remain in control of their men. Seeing me, his scowl drops, and he smiles, giving a small wave before scurrying away, not wanting to be caught.

The control freak stops me looking and grabs my arm, pulling me away without uttering a word. Trying to pull my arm free doesn’t work, and my protest falls on deaf ears as I’m dragged to an elevator.

“I can walk. You don’t need to touch me.”

We’re locked inside when his phone starts pinging rapidly, and all the air is sucked out of the space as his demeanor changes from masked killer to crazed beast.

I can’t see the screen, but the sound of chains clinking together has my attention, and I move closer, getting more information. Vitali stands in some torture chamber on one leg. His hands are chained together, and this isn’t the first round, judging by the swelling already settling in. He looks like Vlad as he stares directly at us, hard, accepting eyes and strength in his voice as he orders nothing to be done.

“Ni za chto.”

Spitting at his captor, he looks away, antagonizing them as the chains rattle.

“You can’t fight fair because you’re a fucking pussy.”

His other curses don’t land, but they stop and reach for a key, freeing his arms and throwing him a knife. He’s only a year older than me and accustomed to violence, but it’s brutal watching him limp and fight back. He doesn’t scream out in pain, and the edges distort under the pressure of Vlad’s fist as it gets increasingly worse, and Vitali is subdued, a knife held against his throat, and the screen goes black.

Hurt and anger mix in the darkness, reflecting back to me through the blank screen, and the psycho replays it with more calm. He doesn’t look away from his phone as he punches into the control panel for whichever floor I’m to be dumped on. He almost resembles something human with emotions as he continues watching his brother be tortured over and over again. Reaching the top floor, he gestures for me to get out without breaking contact with the device, and my feet move automatically, getting away from whatever’s brewing.

He doesn’t follow me, and the doors close before I can even turn around. I don’t have any clothes to change into, and the entire floor is set up like a penthouse apartment with multiple rooms and its own living room. Who just leaves someone in a space without showing them around?

Rude idiot.

I’ll have to show myself around and get acquainted with the space. I make it to the first door, but it’s locked, and a little voice comes from behind me as I apply more force. “No one’s allowed in there. It’s the office.”

Turning towards it, the little boy from the top of the stairs is standing in pajamas, and he has the same wolf eyes as the rest of his family. The rumors don’t give any indication as to whose son he is, and they all share women, so they probably don’t even know without a DNA test.

He’s innocent, and I’m assuming I’m going to be his stepmother. I won’t be some cartoon villain when he has a real-life one for a father. I give him a small smile I hope comes across as friendly and crouch in front of him so we’re the same height. He must be seven or eight years old, and I hold out my hand, introducing myself where his father should have. “Hi, I’m Inessa. What’s your name?”

Taking my hand, he gives three firm shakes and doesn’t look away from my eyes as he answers, “I’m Viktor. Vlad doesn’t let anyone in his office.”

The people in this family need a new name book, so they stop with the V names.

He doesn’t let go of my hand and guides me to the sofa. It’s obviously a regular occurrence for him to be here as he turns on the TV and relaxes. I’ve been around a lot of children since opening Steorra and working with them, and Viktor doesn’t act like them. He still does the kid thing of saying shit he’s probably not supposed to and spilling family secrets.

“I’m not allowed to be downstairs when Anika or Len are here.”

I just nod and try to stop my judgment or questions from showing. He’s going to get in trouble for telling me things he shouldn’t, and I’ll pretend he hasn’t offered the little he has.

I know my own family is dysfunctional. This one is worse. There’s a child with hidden parentage and grandparents being separated by multiple floors as they ignore his existence. They’re all fucked up, and I sit back, watching late-night television with a kid, knowing he’s the sanest person in this entire place.