The walls in Diana’s office drive me stir crazy. Why she insists on plastering art deco everywhere is odd to me. I prefer the classic paintings, real art, crafted by hours of an arched spine and hand cramps using oil paints and your mind’s eye.
“Shadow,” my sister snaps the nickname given to me by our father since before I can remember. Apparently, I’ve been living in my sister’s shadow since I was a toddler.
I look over to her from the armchair she allowed me to drag in here. Her auburn hair is pulled back into a tight bun. Smoky eye shadow and dark red lips decorate her large features. She looks like a film star even at the office. Her silk blouse is tucked neatly into her pencil skirt, showing off her slim figure and curvy hips. I look down at my own clothes and cringe. My checkered shirt has mayonnaise smeared down the front from lunch.
“Shadow?”
“Huh?” I jolt, remembering she called my name.
Fierce blue eyes that match my own pin me. “Irvac is coming in next, so pay attention.”
Pay attention? Her words are an insult. I always pay attention. Every detail is captured, logged, and stored away for later use. I noticed she’s wearing more makeup than usual and the top two buttons of her blouse are open instead of closed like any other day. The warmth in her cheeks is noticeable, and she keeps checking her cell phone, then crossing and uncrossing her legs.
“Are you sure the numbers are wrong?” she urges.
“Numbers don’t lie, Diana,” I say in a terse tone. “The people inputting the numbers lie.”
She sighs and takes a swig from a cup on her desk. She drinks too much coffee.
“This is unfortunate. Irvac has been with us a long time.”
I flit my fingers over my laptop and bring up the spreadsheet to show her the inaccuracy. We have more products leaving our warehouses than the return being entered. It’s small in the grand scheme of things, but it’s there, and thieves get greedy if left unpunished.
Volkov Spirits is one of the fastest growing companies in Russia with plans to expand our offices to Paris, New York, and London within seven years. Our product is exported in over thirty-five countries so far, and we employ over five thousand people, so our management needs to be loyal and capable.
Our legitimate businesses are the foundation for the other side of our business, and they need to be ran with the same reprimands to avoid these unfortunate events from reoccurring.
A knock at the door alerts us to Irvac’s presence. Diana’s office is situated in our father’s mansion. It shows her supremacy—makes us both less vulnerable to the men in this business who see women as inferior to them. It’s a power play, a my dick is bigger than yours show of dominance. Look where we live and see the money and influence behind us.
“Come in, Irvac.” Diana welcomes him with a hand motion to the chair in front of the enormous mahogany desk she had hand-carved with our family crest and shipped in from Japan. The lone, giant peregrine falcon’s wings inside the etched crest span the entire length of the desk. Long and tipped in black. Instead of a curved beak, she has the mouth of a wolf. Snarling and vicious. I love that she is female. Father doesn’t know this, but I’ve studied the markings of the giant birds. The one chosen for our crest is most definitely female. Her size indicates so, and also the fact that she has her claws curled around two eggs in a protective, motherly way. She’s fierce and takes shit from no one.
“Ma’am,” he greets. He’s broad and tall and enters with swift strides, tugging at his jacket before taking a seat.
His thick beard hides half his face, but if he’s the one stealing from us, his eyes will tell me everything I need to know.
“Irvac, are you stealing from us?” she outright asks, just like we practiced. It’s an old trick used by my father when testing members of his staff. Some would break despite the fact that my father had no proof or cause to ask. It’s just random and a sign of the power and fear he holds over people.
Irvac sits up straighter and squints, his gaze darting back and forth between Diana and me. “Of course not.”
Standing, I walk over to Diana and lean down to whisper in her ear.
“I fancy mors for dinner,” I murmur, and she nods. With a few words that are confusing to others, I indicate Irvac is a thieving liar.
His teeth grind and eyes narrow, wondering what I’m telling her. I move back to my seat in the corner, and she folds her arms.
“I’m going to give you the opportunity to come clean this one time.”
He stands and rubs a hand through his black, long hair that ends just above his shoulders. “Miss Volkov,” he utters in exasperation. “What is this about?”
I move to her again and tap the buttons on the laptop as if showing her something.
His eyes track me, his cheeks heat, and his shoulders tense. “What is it?” he demands, and I smile politely in his direction.
Diana gestures to the seat he’s vacated, but he ignores her and begins pacing the floor.
“You have this one chance,” Diana reminds him.
He shakes his head. “I was going to pay it back.”
Liar.
“I didn’t think it would be noticed and I could put it back before—”
She holds her hand up to stop him. Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks back toward the door.
I press my hand onto her shoulder—another one of our many signals—letting her know I’m leaving to get Anton, our father’s most loyal subject, a bodyguard of sorts.
As I pass Irvac, he grabs my arm and jerks me toward him.
“What are you telling her? Is this you always in the corner with your damn laptop?” he sneers, squeezing my arm unbearably tight. I whimper despite myself and try to pull free, but he has height and strength over me.
“Let her go. Now,” my sister demands as she chambers the Glock from under her desk, cracking the tense atmosphere with the echo of the metal.
He releases me with a hard shove, and I tumble backward against a tall glass bookcase, hurtling through the glass. It rains down around me like deadly confetti, the shards peppering over my shoulders and the impact robbing me of breath.
A popping sound rings in my ears as Diana pulls the trigger, and the thud as Irvac’s heavy form hits the floor makes my heart jump.
“Thieving is one thing, touching one of us is another entirely,” she breathes, fury dripping from her every word.
The door bursts open and Vlad stands in the doorway, much to our surprise. Diana hasn’t seen him since he took her to lunch after his brother’s funeral. I’d wanted to grill her about the date, but bit my tongue. She didn’t offer much either.
He looks down at the still-warm body, and then to my sister. Finally, his intense golden-brown eyes flit to me. I fixate on his full lips as he casually asks, “Am I interrupting something?” He arches his brow, his only show of brief amusement.
I gather my wits and pick some of the glass from my clothes. Diana rushes over to me, inspecting my face and neck like a mother hen. Her icy blue eyes flicker with worry. My sister may be a badass most of the time, but sometimes, only to me, she’ll show a glimpse of the girl I used to run with through the woods behind our house as we pretended to be evil queens hunting down our lowly peasants. I can almost hear her childhood cackling—
“Are you injured?” she asks, concern pulling her brows down in a scowl as she helps me to my feet. All traces of the smiley, fun-loving sister I grew up with are gone. The serious, shrewd powerhouse of a woman is back in place.
“I’ll be fine,” I assure her, my voice terse. I step past her, but have to stop when Vlad doesn’t move from the doorway, blocking me from fleeing. I look up at him, expecting him to be studying Diana or the scene before him, because I’m invisible to him—to everyone—but our eyes clash, and the world stops moving.
My heart slows, and the blood rushes through my veins like wine into a goblet over dinner. Looking at him up close is like seeing all Seven Wonders of the World at once. Like hearing my favorite song sang live and just for me. Seconds pass, but they feel like hours. His eyes skim from my eyes to my nose. My cheeks heat at his careful inspection. The moment I blush, one corner of his lips twitch as though he might smile. He doesn’t. Instead, he continues staring down at me, this time landing on my lips. I part them slightly as if to drink him in.
I can taste his breath.
I can sense the beating of his heart.
I can almost hear his thoughts.
My own heart is whispering, “Recognize me.” And just like that, he moves out of my way to take the seat Irvac just vacated and the moment is gone. All the air leaves me in a rush, and I stumble from the office into the arms of Anton, who catches my fall.
“What happened?” he demands, moving me to a seat along the wall of the corridor.
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “It’s been dealt with.”
He leaves me to check on Diana, and I gather my strength to stand and go to my room. As I run through the maze of intricate hallways, I try not to think about him, but like the dangling of a carrot I can never have, Vlad’s perfect eyes are in the forefront of my mind. Seeing me. Noticing every small freckle I desperately try to hide behind my foundation.
I strip my clothes from my clammy body and hiss through the pain of some cuts over my chest. Going to the bathroom, I turn the shower on cold and step beneath its punishing rainfall.
Blood clears to show small slits on my skin. I loosen the braid in my hair and pull the strands apart, letting the water soak through the long blonde locks. Unlike my sister, I have virgin hair, skin, and body. Guys have never been on my radar, apart from the weird allure Vlad has over me. I’m not ugly, just indifferent to beauty. I don’t try to emphasize my assets. Makeup is for girly girls. I always have my nose in books and study texts. My sister says I’m more beautiful than she is—more like our mother. I know she only does this to boost my self-esteem. Our mother is beautiful, but she’s always lacked a backbone, so she didn’t encourage me to have any self-esteem. My father’s wandering eyes beat our mother’s confidence out of her.
Turning the tap off, I step from the shower, wrap a towel around myself, and wait for Diana to come and dress my wounds. She’s predictable, and within five minutes, she’s pushing through my bathroom door with a first aid kit.
“Anton is taking care of the mess,” she rushes to tell me, placing the cotton swab over my cuts and dabbing. The sting isn’t as harsh as anticipated, and I find myself playing with the end of the towel.
“And Vlad?”
She grins up at me, her smile lighting her entire face. “He wants to take me to dinner.” Her joy is palpable. I need to be excited for her, but it’s hard. Guilt surges through me.
“Do you even like him?” I find the words tumbling from my lips with a harsher tone than intended.
She narrows her eyes and shrugs. “You have eyes, Irina.” And boy, do I ever. Those eyes can’t seem to stop looking at him whenever he’s near. She winks at me, and my stomach twists.
He’s beautiful. Just like you, Diana.
God, their babies will be stunning.
“It’s not just about looks,” I retort, the bitterness dripping in my tone. “He’s moody.”
Her smile reaches her eyes and warms my heart. “He would be a great match.” She places a Band-Aid over the last cut and rises to her feet. “Father would approve.”
“You sound like Vika,” I snap, irritated at her answer. “That’s all she talks about when we’re forced to attend any of the Vasiliev’s functions.” Vlad’s sister is a bitch, plain and simple. Sure, she parades around with a pretty smile, but I’ve watched her flitting from person to person, whispering lies to whoever will listen.
“Enough, Shadow,” she warns, marching into my bedroom.
I follow, fury building in my gut. “You should choose your own match. Who cares what Father approves of?”
She turns abruptly, her eyes ablaze with anger. “Enough, Irina! Life isn’t that cut and dry, and you know it. Now, get dressed. Father wants to see that you’re okay.”
We glare at each other for a long moment.
With a cold smile that unfortunately matches our father’s, I spit out, “Enjoy your dinner date with your match. Let me know when the wedding is.”
She glowers at me, gives a shake to her head, and storms from the room without another word. The moment she’s gone, I slam it shut and blink away the stupid tears forming in my eyes.