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TWENTY-NINE

Inessa

S pending two nights away from the Vartanov home has made me homesick. I missed hearing Vitali arguing with Viktor over whatever food he was trying to steal and Valentin’s whingeing. Even Dima’s miserable face makes me smile as we walk back in. It’s early, and no one is awake yet with Vlad needing to go through whatever brutal business he has.

Walking carefully to hide the soreness between my legs, I collapse in the breakfast nook, wincing as I sit with too much force. The handsome devil is dressed in another perfect suit and traces his bottom lip with his thumb, noticing my movements. There’s no smirk, he looks concerned, and he has been uncharacteristically lost in thought since I woke up.He walks over to me and strokes my hair back, freaking me out as he speaks quietly.

“Do you want ice?”

The question brings back the memory of his office and I shake my head, feigning normalcy as my cheeks heat.

He steps back and goes to the fridge, taking out random items before he sets down bowls of fruit in front of me. It’s my usual breakfast, but he’s never been here on a morning while we eat. I’ve never even seen him eat, even at the wedding banquet he didn’t touch anything. I pause and try to go through my memories spanning years of dinners grandfather held, so I could get used to Vlad’s presence. He’s never eaten in front of me. He has to eat though, he’s tall and muscular, he wouldn’t survive.

A cool plate touches my hand, pulling me away from my mind. I hold it confused like I’ve never used dishwater before. He gestures to the table, and foreboding settles in my gut at the weird tone.

“Eat, we’ve got a flight in a few hours.”

I’m not under any illusion of a surprise honeymoon, it’s business or nothing with Vlad. But he hasn’t said anything about who we’re visiting. If they’re ballsy enough to freak him out, I’m fucked.

He stalks off, going to his office as I pick at the bowls of fruit and granola. I’m alone again. It shouldn’t bother me after spending most of my life alone. I’m an only child, but I like being in his presence and the huge kitchen just highlights that there’s no one here.It doesn’t matter where I go, I’ll always be alone, and I need that part of me to die.

Rushed little footsteps ring out until Viktor’s at my side and he kneels beside me on the seat, wrapping his arms around me. He’s the best kid, and Vartanov, so I wrap my arms around him, kissing his head. He’s excited, telling me all the things he’s done and how far he’s got on his languages.

“Guess what Nessa, Dima let me train with him and my dad for once and I made him tap. My dad had to help me, but he still done it.”

He falls silent as Vlad comes in followed by his brothers.

The usual scowl is missing from his features, and he stares at the luggage behind his uncle.

“Viktor.” The dickhead speaks, saying his name in a low warning that’s ignored. I don’t know what’s happening, but the usually bubbly child raises his voice for the first time, and it’s solely directed at Vlad.

“You said you wouldn’t go again.”

Hurt sticks to his small voice, making him appear younger when he’s usually mature.

Vitali limps to my other side, becoming part of the audience as Viktor faces off against his dad and uncle.

“Come on little man, we’ll go watch your program.”

Ignoring his dad, he perfects the deadly look and focuses it on Vlad.

“No, he’s a liar. He always says things he doesn’t mean, and it’s not fair.”

I tighten my arm around him when Vlad takes a step forward. I’ve already joined his side and let Vlad see I will kill him if he even attempts to hurt this little boy any more than he already has. Viktor doesn’t give a shit and his maturity shows in his anger.

“You lie all the time, you said the same about me going to school.” He turns to his dad and continues, “And you just let him, you’re both liars.”

Whatever has happened to piss him off is enough information for me to agree. There’s never been a bad word uttered from Viktor’s lips about his uncle, he’ll argue with Vitali until they’re both red in the face. But he adores Vlad and overlooks the bastard underneath.

Shuffling out of the breakfast nook, I keep Viktor at my side and walk with my spine straight, challenging any of these dumb fucks to try to stop me. He twists his head behind him to glare at the three of them and I ignore the eyes burning into the back of my head to guide him to the games room. Crouching down once we’re away from the other assholes, I hold his arms, trying to calm him.

“What’s wrong, rypka?”

Some of the anger leaves and he looks so much like Vlad with the anger coursing through his little body.

“It’s not fair, everyone is being different. Before they’d sit with me or play with me and they’re big, stupid liars. My dad said I was allowed to go to school when we moved but they don’t let me, and no one will sit with me now that Vlad’s going. Again.”

Dropping to my knees, I wrap my arms around the little boy who always seems mature. Keeping my voice soft, I stroke his head and promise, already forming my plan.

“I’m sure they’ll play with you again. It’s just been busy with moving.”

He shakes his head and hugs me back. There are no tears despite the sadness in his little voice.

“No, they won’t. I hate it here. I want Dima to be the guard again like the old house. Now it’s just Timo, and he said it’s because I’m annoying and a baby.”

Pulling back, I try to hide my own anger, and fail.

“You are not annoying or a baby.”

I’m going to fucking kill the guard who thought he had any right to try to fucking bully a kid, the stupid prick. Viktor’s bottom lip sticks out, and he shakes his head, not believing me. Straightening to my full height, I hold my hand out to him, ready to wage wars. He doesn’t lift his head fully and drags his feet as I walk him back into the kitchen.

All three Vartanovs stare at me with wide eyes, but they don’t deserve my attention. I make sure Viktor’s seated and push a plate in front of him as Valentin tries to get my attention to check up on his son. When he’s stood beside me, my hand moves automatically, taking his gun from his waistband and my heels click like gavels, declaring Timo’s death.

Two pairs of footsteps chase after me, but their rage is nothing compared to mine.

“What the fuck is she doing?”

Valentin’s voice pisses me off and I answer with calm I don’t feel.

“What you should.”

Pulling open the door with enough force to rip my shoulder out of its socket, the bastard I’m looking for stands smoking at the bottom of the steps. I’ve never been good at shooting, or knife skills, or any fighting really. Grandfather tried to teach me, and I missed every target.

But it doesn’t stop me as I unclick the safety and raise the weapon, aiming at Timo’s head. His jaw goes lax, and the cigarette falls to the floor. Heat covers my back as I pull the trigger. My aim is off, but it hits his shoulder, making him scream out. My deadly order is like a whip, pretending it wasn’t supposed to be a kill shot.

“If you so much as look in Viktor’s direction again, I’ll aim for your fucking head.”

I turn on my heel with my shoulders straight like my joint isn’t vibrating from firing and push the gun into Valentin’s chest. Vlad and Valentin are staring at each with a ‘what the fuck’ expression, but I’ve gotten my point across and resist the urge to rub my shoulder as I walk towards the kitchen.

Gentle fingers wrap around my bicep and pull me towards the office. Vlad doesn’t speak when he kicks the door closed, and he curls his palm over my sore shoulder, easing the ache. I step back, refusing to admit it or sink into the comfort and weaken myself. He crosses his arms over his chest and there’s hellfire staring back at me when I look up.

“Did he touch him?”

My anger morphs into disgust at the thought and I shake my head, betraying a little boy’s confidence.

“He told him he’s an annoying baby, and that’s why you all abandoned him.”

He relaxes at the lesser evil and takes a step forward, attempting to hide his amusement.

“You were aiming for his head and missed.”

I expected an argument over my actions, not an insult, the asshole. I try to play it off and hide my embarrassment, but I’m a liar to my own ears.

“I changed my mind at the last second and decided to give him a warning instead.”

Humming at my bullshit, he cups my nape and pride warms his icy eyes.

“Moya koroleva.”

Kissing my cheek, he pushes his hips against me, walking me back until I’m caged in between the wall and his hard body.

I’m dazed with him invading all my senses and nearly miss his asshole order.

“Don’t shoot anyone again, you tell me, and I won’t miss.”

I press my knuckles into his stomach, but he flexes, and I nearly drool. It doesn’t weaken my argument as I continue lying.

“I didn’t miss, I got his shoulder.”

He hums into my neck, sending waves of pleasure down my spine and presses his lips to the spot making me melt.

“You sore, meelaya?”

The gravelly whisper has me forgetting why I would be, and I curl my hand around his nape, feeling the short hairs above his nape prick my fingers.

I’m rubbing up on him like a cat, but I don’t care, and he doesn’t move away from me. He gently pulls my dress up and cups between my thighs with the same care. My wince is automatic at the extra pressure being applied despite the warmth soothing me. I hate it because he moves back and looks down at me. He cups my ass in both hands, then kisses my forehead and kneads my flesh.

“We’ll be in Moscow for two days. I won’t leave you, but I have business in Sankt Peterburg for one day and you can’t come with me.”

My smile reaches from ear to ear with finally being given the respect I deserve. I nod easily and he relaxes like he was bracing for any other reaction.

I don’t need to be in his every decision, I just need to be given the same attention he expects. If I was to go somewhere for two days, he’d demand to know where. This is the same, equals. Leaning up on my toes because I like this version of him, I kiss his cheek and act like the brat he says I am.

“Pack an empty suitcase, I’m going to be busy.” Tilting my head to the side as he smirks, I add, “Actually, I’ll just buy a new one.”

THE AMOUNT OF FEAR VLAD INVOKES IS TRIPLED IN MOSCOW. Every person we pass averts their eyes before I can even see what color they are and the worry coloring their features is solely for me. Whatever business he had in Saint Petersburg has him hardening and angrier. He was relaxed, even excited as much as he was able to be on the flight, but now he’s out for blood.

Keeping in step as we take our seats at the Pakhan’s table for the honorary meal, an older woman catches my attention. She has a slash going from her hairline down the length of her face and through the corner of her eye. It curves under her eye and the contour of her cheekbone makes it look like a backward three. But it’s not the injury making me notice her, it’s the pure terror on her face at seeing Vlad. Her skin has lost color, and she shakily rushes away, nearly falling over people in her escape.She keeps her chin tucked to her chest as she attempts to escape and sticks to the wall with a tremor shaking her hand.

Every time I think he’s not that bad something happens proving otherwise. I don’t even need to ask how she got disfigured, my darling husband is clearly the fucking cause. Ignoring how my stomach churns at the thought, I take the seat that’s pulled out for me.I already know he doesn’t separate male and female from his violence. The fights in the cage are proof of that because he has mixed opponents, but this is different when there are no spectators. He enjoys it. But I can’t understand why when he has never struck me or even attempted to even when he’s pissed at me.

Out of everyone that Vlad could kill, he lets his mother live and her annoying fucking face is opposite me on the next table. She’s a whore, not because of sexuality, but deviance. The same sick predatory look on her husband’s face is on hers as they survey the room, wanting to take power in any way they can. The only tool that they have is between their legs and they shouldn’t even be here. I lean into the man at my side and ask, “How did they get in?”

Vlad doesn’t look in their direction as he copies me, speaking low so no one on our table overhears.

“You’re their daughter-in-law, and their new pass to flaunt.”

I hide my speech with the crystal champagne flute as I fire back, “Well, how do I get it revoked?”

He smiles, it’s small and barely a lift of his lips but it’s there and fills me with warmth. He has long, thick lashes and I watch them remain unmoving as he straightens in his seat. I wonder if he’ll let me curl them, they’d be beautiful and probably touch his brows.

I hide my grimace behind another sip as his mother slinks out of her seat. The cocktail dress is better than the lingerie I last saw her in, but it dips low, showing her cleavage as she pushes her chest out. I don’t know why it bothers me, all I do know is this woman could save the world, and I’d still find a fault in it because there are toxic thoughts behind her eyes. It would be so fucking easy to jab the fork in front of me into her eyeball. The silver even winks at me, co-signing my thoughts with each step she takes closer. Playing the role of caring mother, she comes to stand in the middle of our chairs, full of fake niceties.

“I’m sure you won’t mind me introducing my new daughter to those of importance.”

I want to throw up at the thought of ever being mistaken for her child. My actual mother is bad enough, let alone whatever Anika is.

She directs the bullshit at her son, but she doesn’t look away from me and I push my chair back, making sure to hit her with it as I stand. She doesn’t make a sound as the high back connects with her hip and Vlad remains still as if she hadn’t spoken. She leads me away from the guests and my muscles tighten, readying for whatever attack she’ll give. Stopping at the edge of the hall once we’re out of sight from anyone else, she holds a section of my hair between two fingers and now I’m going to have to chop it off.

Gripping the strands above her fingers, I pull it free and wait for whatever she thinks is so fucking important. She keeps studying me, it’s unnerving, like she’s trying to draw comparisons with a memory as she lazily asks, “Did he go to Sankt Peterburg?”

The question is weird as fuck, and I won’t tell this bitch anything. Staring at me like I’m supposed to be intimidated, Anika rolls her hand as though it’s of no importance and her laugh is fake as fuck.

“Oh, we all know about his visits to her , I’m just surprised Vlad allowed you so close.”

He wouldn’t be cheating, like she’s insinuating. Not when I’d do worse back, Vlad would not call my bluff when the outcome would be embarrassing for him in front of the Pakhan. Anika smirks, looking over my shoulder and I follow her gaze to see what has her attention.

The scarred woman has her head down as Vlad comes out of the shadows and his cufflinks sparkle in the lights. It distracts me from his hand as he threads his fingers in the back of her hair. Her mouth opens and her chest convulses when she sees who has accosted her. But there’s no screaming as he begins dragging her away. Tears are streaming down her face.

The brutal hand is ripping at her strands and his knuckles are bleached white from the force he’s using. He leans into her, his lips by her ear, and his bitch of a mother speaks.

“She is the sister of Dmitri. Don’t think your familial ties will save you when he treats the Pakhan’s blood that way.”

She slowly turns towards me with smug satisfaction and makes no attempts to stop her son causing harm.

I know the hierarchy. Each region of the Bratva are under one head. Moscow works differently with it being a command center of sorts and every Brat reports to Dmitri. Vlad wouldn’t hurt his family. It would mean death for everyone. The rumors of what Dmitri did when his brother Denis was murdered still echo within the ranks and made it to the States of how he decimated an entire bloodline and ensured there was no one left to carry their name. It happened when I was a baby but even I’ve heard the stories.