Thirteen years later

“Oh, my darling, you look more beautiful than ever,” Mamochka whispered, dabbing at her eyes. “Such a gorgeous young woman. I can’t believe you’re turning eighteen.”

I grinned at my own reflection in the mirror and twirled around, looking at myself with a titled head.

“I know,” I said softly. “It passes so quickly, doesn’t it, Mamochka?”

“Indeed it does,” she said, standing up as she balanced my newest baby brother, Ivan, on her hip. “I wanted you to have something, my beautiful girl.”

She handed the baby to a nanny who hushed him with calm noises and carried him out of the room, leaving Mamochka and me alone. My mother stepped to the side where our family jewelry box sat proudly atop a white marble countertop. She dug around in it, and I smiled fondly as I remembered my own fascination with the jewelry box when I was younger. Mamochka used to let me play with it, and I could still faintly recall the look of glittering jewels, and the feel of the midnight blue velvet that lined the solid gold box.

“Here we go,” she said, pulling out something from the box and approaching me with a secretive smile. “I’ve been waiting so long to give you this.”

I laid my hands out, and she placed a necklace in them. A ruby red gemstone sparkled in the center, and knowing the rest of Mamochka’s jewels, I knew this one was real too. The gemstone was inlaid with intricate gold that looked like lace, forming a luxurious-looking pendant that lay close to the throat when the necklace was held in place on its wearer.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” I exclaimed, my fingers gently touching to the cold stone. “Thank you so much. Will you help me put it on?”

“Of course,” she replied with pleasure, stepping behind me to clasp the necklace into place. “It will look so wonderful with your dress too, darling.”

I glanced at my reflection again, taking in my appearance. I wore my waist-length, silky straight black hair up, in a twisted updo with pretty little braids decorating my crown like a headband. My makeup was tasteful and minimal, but I’d been blessed with good skin, blemish-free, and porcelain. My body was too tall and reed-thin, but with my dress, none of it seemed to matter.

It flattered my body in all the right ways, not clinging to any awkward spots but making me look beautiful and grown-up. It was a pretty navy blue, the cut tight across my chest but covering me up well. It was lace, the bodice tight, and the skirt flaring out and ending a few inches above my knees. Papa had even permitted me to wear high heels for the event, and I wore high black pumps that elongated my legs. I felt like a million bucks in the outfit and loved it. I couldn’t wait for Ryker to see.

I hung my head in shame when I thought of him first. I scolded myself inwardly. I should never put Ryker first. Max was the one I was going to marry. Max was the one I’d end up with. And as soon as I got over my silly little crush on his brother, the better off I’d be. But it had been thirteen years… and it seemed like the crush was only getting worse.

But it was easier said than done, and most of the time, my mind was preoccupied with the thought of handsome, devilish Ryker who’d made it his mission to make my life miserable. Or at least, so it seemed.

He was twenty-four and already a womanizer. He was the bad seed of the family, and everyone knew it. My papa despised him and only allowed him at these functions because he was Max’s brother. And okay, maybe because I begged him tirelessly to extend an invite to my fiancé’s brother. I couldn’t help myself. My crush was the worst it had ever been, and that day, standing in front of the mirror while my mother placed a family heirloom around my neck, my only thought and worry in the world was Ryker Marino.

Once I was ready and Mamochka gave her approval, I walked from the wardrobe into the garden and the beautiful party my parents had thrown for me.

I wasn’t fooled though. I knew Papa’s excitement was likely coming because of the personal gain of me becoming older. Only one more year and I’d be married off to the man he’d chosen for me when I was a little girl.

Only three years left of convincing him he’d chosen the wrong brother. But Ryker sure as hell didn’t make my job any easier.

What bothered me the most was that the reckless Marino boy didn’t even seem to care about me at all. While we’d been close through our entire childhoods, he’d spent the past few years blocking me out more and more, until I was seemingly no longer part of his inner circle. I hated this, but I was too ashamed and proud to bring it up in front of Ryker. The new man he’d grown up into would probably just mock me.

Max, on the other hand, was always the same. Kind, loving, reliable Max who loved me more with every day. He never said it out loud, but then again, he didn’t need to. It was obvious from the way he looked at me, from the hushed tone of his voice whenever we spoke to one another. He cared deeply, and they were feelings I worried I’d never be able to match with my own.

As I descended the stairs into the party, feeling Papa’s approving gaze on me, my eyes only sought out one person, but I couldn’t find him. Though I did find Max, and with a heavy weight lifting off my shoulders, I walked over to him, politely thanking the people I passed for coming.

I’d been trained for the role of the Bratva Princess my whole life, and I did it well. And looking from the outside, no one would be able to tell the garden and house were filled with murderers, bad men, and the women who turned a blind eye to all their crimes.

If I tried hard enough, I could almost imagine it wasn’t true myself.

“Max,” I said softly as I approached him, and he smiled politely at the man he was talking to before turning his attention to me, his eyes as warm and kind as they always were. “Have you seen your brother?”

I should have been embarrassed about inquiring after his brother right away, but I felt needy, desperate. I needed to know where he was.

“He went to the treehouse, I think,” he said simply, and I nodded in gratitude.

“I’ll be right back,” I murmured, already walking away, my heels sinking into the grass.

I walked over the garden, on a little stone path, until I reached the gnarled old oak tree where an old treehouse stood. My siblings didn’t use it anymore, except for Vladislava. She was only six, and I loved her very much. She was my favorite sister, and I loved showing her all the spots I loved around our house.

I heard whispering and giggling as I neared the house, and it filled me with inexplicable anger and white-hot jealousy.

Before I could stop myself, I’d already put one stiletto-clad foot on the ladder and started climbing up the tree into the old treehouse. The moment I reached the last step, I wished I hadn’t.

A girl I recognized as one of Papa’s assistant’s daughter, perhaps a couple of years older than me, lay sprawled on the ground of my treehouse, butt-naked.

Above her was the shirtless figure of Ryker, my Ryker, kissing a line down her naked breasts and making her giggle and shriek between taking deep, gulping breaths of air.

I wanted to scream.

Instead, she did when she saw me. One loud, shrill sound, and then she covered her mouth with her palm and stared at me in absolute, bone-crunching fear.

I set my lips in a thin line. She was fucking right to be afraid. I was going to have my revenge for what she had done here, and judging by the petrified look in her eyes, she knew it too.

Ryker didn’t seem to give a shit though. He just groaned and rolled his eyes at me.

“Get the fuck out, Ophelia,” he said tiredly, turning his back to me and returning to kiss the girl’s shaking midriff.

“Fine,” I spat out and climbed down the ladder.

The girl followed moments later, as I was stomping down the lawn directly to where my papa was standing.

“Ophelia,” she called after me, and I stopped cold as her hand wrapped around my forearm. “I’m so sorry. I should never have… I didn’t even think…. I didn’t think you’d still care.”

“I hope you can fool yourself with those words,” I said coldly. “Because you sure as hell don’t fool me, suka.”

She blanched at me calling her a whore and gave me a sheepish look.

“You won’t tell my papa, will you?” she asked, a note of desperation in her timid voice.

“Of course not,” I replied with a sweet smile and a shrug.

And then I kept on walking until I reached my father, tugged on his shirt sleeve and filled him in.

His expression turned from jovial to furious, and he nodded solemnly, never needing a reason for the things I asked of him. It was enough to say the girl had disrespected and upset me.

I didn’t take advantage of my position very often, but when I did, it always ended fucking badly for the offender.

I watched papa walk over to the girl’s father, roughly pulling him to the side and snarling in his face. Beatific pride set in as the girl raced to the garden only to be thrown out, along with her family, by our bodyguards. She fucking deserved it. Nobody messed with what was mine.

* * *

Hours later, I stood next to Max, still looking around to try and find Ryker. He’d been missing since our little spectacle, though the party had gone on as if nothing had happened. Everyone who was there knew better than to question my father.

With Max by my side, I felt more confident, but his presence just made it increasingly more and more clear that Ryker and I would never end up together.

He was so sensible, so kind. He was everything a man should be, but none of it was… well, it wasn’t exciting in the slightest.

Ryker had changed in the past years, making me question whether he was a good man. But under the layers that made him bad, there were more—the boyish charm, the permanent smirk he wore, the leather jacket he refused to take off for a whole year, even though it enraged his father. He dropped out of law school, and spent a year driving fast cars and doing God knows what with models. I’d always been the last to know. He didn’t care about me anymore.

That knowledge stung most of all, and as I thought of him not giving a damn, my bottom lip trembled and I bit back tears. I hated we’d grown apart.

My father clinked on a glass, getting everyone’s immediate attention.

“I’d like to invite the birthday girl over,” he said pleasantly, and I smiled wide, my expression purely for show—and because I didn’t want Papa to hurt me for not obeying.

I approached Papa with ladylike steps and smiled at our guests like the perfect daughter I was groomed to be.

He said a few nice words about me and ended by saying Max would be joining us next.

While Max and Ryker had been a permanent fixture at all our family gatherings since that day in the summer when I was five years old, during the last few months, Papa had pushed me and Max closer and closer together, trying to force closeness between us that had never existed.

“As most of you know,” Papa went on, “Ophelia and Max Marino will be married on my princess’s nineteenth birthday.”

I blushed as he spoke, not wanting a word of what he was saying to be true. I winced at his words as he went on and hoped Max hadn’t noticed.

“I want today to be about growing up,” Papa said. “And since my daughter has now become a woman… I wanted to announce I will now allow her to date her fiancé,” papa finished proudly, giving me an expectant look.

The only thing I could return was a blank stare. Did he think I’d jump up and down with joy? The only man he’d ever let me date was Max, and this only solidified the knowledge that he wasn’t even an inch closer to changing his decision about marrying me off. And he still didn’t care that he’d chosen the wrong brother… that I longed for the other twin, the one that ignited a deep fire within me. The one I could never have.

“Well, kids?” Papa asked with a grin that felt a little too forced for my liking. “Are you going to make me proud or what?”

Max and I stared uncomfortably at each other as the guests started to chant for us to kiss. I’d never been more embarrassed in my life. I wanted so badly to talk back to Papa, but I knew full well that wouldn’t end well. He’d just get really upset at me and punch me in front of everyone. And I couldn’t let anyone see that. I was too proud, too old to be Papa’s punching bag.

I thought to all the years I’d spent with the Marino siblings. Our beautiful childhoods forever entwined together, somehow making us blind to what our parents really did, what kind of situations they dealt with. I didn’t want to know how many men’s blood Papa had on his hands. I preferred not to think about Ryker and Max doing the same jobs. I preferred to block it all out and pretend I was much stupider than I may have seemed.

“Kiss,” Papa boomed in his commanding voice, and in seconds, we’d thrust ourselves at one another.

Neither of us was particularly fond of finding out what would happen if we denied Papa.

Max’s lips on mine were warm and tasted of caramel. I gasped in shock when our mouths touched, and he let out the smallest of sighs against my lips, kissing me like he’d been holding back for years.

My eyes had closed on instinct, but now they flew open, trying to make sense of things as he kissed me with more passion than I ever knew he possessed.

His hand grabbed my hair, and the guests cheered, my eyes inadvertently passing through the crowd, searching and searching while Max kissed me like I belonged to him.

And then I found him, standing to the side and looking so enraged I thought he was going to hit somebody.

Ryker was properly dressed now, but his expression displayed such intense hatred I shrank back. He was looking not at me, but at his brother. I felt his energy from where he was standing, but I closed my eyes instead, because I didn’t want the kiss to end.

Max seemed to sense it, and while Papa laughed merrily, he pushed his tongue into my mouth. I let out another gasp as he kissed me, everything in me belonging to him at that very moment.

We broke apart, and I looked at the ground, embarrassed and blushing as Papa clapped Max on the back.

I ran off to the side of the garden as the guests dispersed, and felt those lingering looks on me disappear. I hid behind the thick trunk of the old oak tree and shook with fear and excitement.

A firm young hand wrapped around my forearm and I gasped, turning around into Ryker’s arms. He held on firmly, nearly lifting me off my feet.

“We’re going to talk,” he barked. “Right the fuck now, you little slut.”