The past…
“Where do you think they keep the vodka?” Niko asks, a smirk on his face. He’s growing a mustache, and it looks so fucking lame. Apparently, his father isn’t strict like ours. Father says we must always be clean-cut and presentable because you’ll never know who you might run into at a moment’s notice.
“All you have to do is ask,” I rumble, dragging my gaze from my best friend to the sunroom just off the living room of the Volkov home. Father needed to meet with Mr. Volkov. He insisted Niko and I tag along. Niko has a thing for Diana, so he didn’t mind at all. She’s seventeen, and Niko is always sporting a boner whenever she’s near. As much as he hates it, though, she’ll have nothing to do with his fifteen-year-old ass. And she might be into me based on the way she smiles at me all the time, but I know better.
A Vasiliev has a reputation to uphold.
If Father requests I see her, then I will.
He’ll keep his options open for as long as he can, though, in case something better comes along. Always calculating three moves ahead, just like he taught Viktor and me in chess.
“I’m going to explore. You coming with?” Niko asks.
I wave him off. “I’m fine right here.”
His gaze follows mine to the tiny artist—the girl sitting cross-legged on the floor. Her hair is a wild blonde mess as she paints a picture on a canvas far more detailed and well done than any I’ve seen hanging on our walls at home. She’s young, perhaps Viktor’s age, ten or eleven, but she paints like she’s been doing it for centuries. It’s one of the reasons I enjoy coming with Father to his meetings with the Volkovs.
“It’s hard to believe they’re sisters,” Niko utters. “Diana is so fucking hot, and that little girl looks like she has a different daddy. I bet their mother boned the butler. There’s no way they came from—”
“I think I overheard old man Volkov say Diana’s in the library,” I snap, cutting him off.
He’s gone without another word, leaving me to watch from the shadows as the girl paints a sunrise behind a snowcapped mountain. The rays are brilliant and almost an exact replica of the way the sun comes through the window and reflects off her hair.
What do you do with your paintings, little Irina?
As if sensing me, she turns and regards me with a solemn expression. There’re glass doors separating us, and I know she can’t see my face at this angle with the sun reflecting back at her from the glass. Where Diana is all smiles and wide, bright blue eyes, her younger sister is serious. She stares hard in my direction, as if willing her eyes to see me. I’ve watched her gaze stray to me every time I enter a room, studying me. For a brief moment, I wonder if she’s ever painted me. I narrow my stare, but don’t blink. If she can see through the glass, I want her to get a glimpse of the real me—the me I’m allowed to be when not under Father’s watchful scrutiny.
Her lips purse and her golden brows furl. I’m seconds from stepping into the sunroom and asking if she’d like to paint me. For some reason, the idea of having my face—not the one I stare at in the mirror each day—on a canvas is inviting.
“Silly girl is always painting,” Diana says from behind me, a smile in her voice. It warms me that she cares for her sister. Despite her words, her tone speaks of love and acceptance. I feel the same way over Viktor. In a way, this connects us. Perhaps Diana and I could do well together in our future.
If Father allows it, of course.
Irina’s cheeks turn pink, and she turns back to her art. With a stifled sigh, I regard Diana. Today, her hair is smoothed straight, and the auburn catches the overhead light. I make note that her hair doesn’t have the same sparkle as her younger sister’s.
“I swear,” she says, her pink pouty lips twisting into a grin, “you get taller every time I see you.” Her fingers grip my bicep through the suit jacket Father always requires me to wear. “Have you been working out?”
Unlike my sister, Diana genuinely wants to know. She doesn’t have any ulterior motives. I like Diana. I like her a lot.
“Yeah, I guess. I’m getting ready for The Games. Won’t be long.”
Her nose crinkles in disgust, but she forces a smile. “Ahhh. The second annual. And you’ll be entering?”
I puff my chest with pride. “Father wills it to be so.”
Understanding flashes in her icy blue stare. If anyone understands growing up under a powerful man, it’s Diana Volkov. “Be careful. Some of us would like to see you make it to the other side.”
“Because you like my biceps?” I joke with a sly smile.
“No, the suit. A well-dressed man is a wonderful accessory for a lady.” She winks, and with a nod, turns on her heel and disappears into the house. A flash of golden brown hair runs past me, a bright red cape flowing out behind him. The Volkovs’ favorite housekeeper’s child has always lived here, but he’s usually not allowed in the main house when the Volkovs have company. Vas rushes into the sunroom hollering about being a supervillain. He’s only about ten or eleven, the same age as Irina, and a menace. Supervillain fits. And true to form, he sets to terrorizing little Irina almost immediately. She screeches at him when he tugs at the back of her hair.
“Vas! Go away or I’m telling my father!” She won’t, though. If she does, the little toad and his mother wouldn’t still be here. And Irina is too kind to tattle knowing it would affect their livelihood.
He grins evilly at her and punches his fist right through her canvas with a, “Hi-ya!,” destroying the work of art. I’m already storming in there before I can stop myself. I grab him by the collar of his shirt and yank him to me so we’re face to face.
“You ever mess with her again or destroy her paintings and I’ll paint the damn wall with your blood,” I seethe in a violent whisper. Probably too much, but I want to scare the hell out of him so he leaves Irina alone from now on.
The boy’s blue eyes widen in shock, but not fear. Something isn’t right in the little tyrant’s head. I release him, and he runs off.
“I’m sorry…” I trail off when I notice Irina is no longer in the room. “I’m sorry,” I say again to myself.
Present…
I pull under the awning of Myasnoy Dom, a famous Russian five-star restaurant. Diana doesn’t say a word, but I can sense her disappointment. When I asked her to dinner, I think she hoped for something a little more than “just business,” yet here we are at a neutral ground for the families to dine and negotiate. Bodyguards remain outside, and you check your egos at the door. Weapons are allowed inside, but under no circumstances are they to be used. Ever. Diana lets out a tiny sigh before flashing me her perfected smile—one that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I hear the crab they got in recently is phenomenal,” I say before climbing out of the vehicle and handing the valet my keys.
When I round the car, Diana is already stepping out. The Volkov women don’t mess around with letting men hold doors for them. I respect that about Diana. Despite being as beautiful as they come, she still holds onto her inner fire. She’s an excellent businesswoman, and I’ve often wondered how she does it. Seeing her holding a gun and one of her men on the floor with a bullet in his forehead was surprising, but not a total shock. The Volkov women are known for having spines of steel—they do what needs to be done when the moment arrives. Their father raised them that way, to prepare them to take over the family business. He needn’t have bothered, though. Once she carries my name, I will take over it all and fill her stomach with our own heir.
Father has finally given the order.
I am to begin courting Diana. As if we didn’t know this would happen when she was twelve and I was ten. We’ve always known it was our destiny, which is why I was surprised father was in talks to marry her to Viktor. I don’t believe he was as clueless to Viktor’s attraction to the opposite sex as he made out to be. His mindset would have been more to marry him off as soon as possible to prevent gossip if it ever became known.
Diana’s compliance was a total contrast to the young Diana. When we were kids, she would pop off all the time about marrying whomever she falls in love with. But around the time she hit puberty and became a lady, her views changed. Love isn’t something we have the luxury of finding for ourselves. We are raised old school. We have rules and traditions. Diana became all about her duties. She no longer ran off into the woods with her younger sister and my siblings. No, Diana began sitting in with her father during his meetings. With her back straight and chin lifted, she listened carefully and took it all in. I know this because I watched her every move. If I were to wed her one day, I needed to be planning, and the biggest plan was knowing the person I would be matched with—every single detail about her.
Despite her fire, she offers me her elbow—a show of respect to my own family. We may be equals in a sense, both being from powerful First Families, but she doesn’t emasculate me by prancing off ahead, and that pleases me. That would be more Vika’s style. Diana tilts her head up and flashes warm smiles to all she passes. She’s good. Really fucking good. Most people—men and women both—eat out of her palm. It’s probably why her father has shifted the business more into her hands. He’s always been a little weasel, and it usually comes back to bite him in the ass. With Diana, she earns respect rather than demands it.
“This dress is beautiful on you,” I whisper in her ear as we pass through the doors into the ornate restaurant.
She bats her lashes at me and gives me a smile I recognize as a real one. “Thanks, Vlad. You clean up well yourself.”
I bite back the chuckle that wants to trickle from my lips. She’s never seen me any way but tailored. We approach the hostess stand where a man dressed in all black gives me a simple nod before escorting us over to the corner near the windows. It’s the table always reserved for me. Diana stiffens beside me, but doesn’t say a word. We pass by her own table that will remain empty tonight. This is about joining two wealthy and powerful families. She knows it as well as I do, and despite her being raised to take over her family’s legacy, she will be a Vasiliev. With that title comes respect I’ll demand she show me as her man and husband.
The Vasiliev name outranks the Volkov one now and always.
I pull out her chair and make sure she’s settled before sitting down. A server quietly arrives with some wine and pops the cork in front of us. Once our glasses are filled, he disappears. This restaurant isn’t ordinary. You’re served what the chef has prepared. It changes daily. Tonight, according to the chalkboard when we came in, we’re indeed having the famous crab.
Diana skims the restaurant. She does so in a curious, innocent way, but I know better. She’s assessing which families are dining tonight—a quick peek to see who’s negotiating with whom. I did my own check when we arrived. Five families dine tonight, three of which who were stiff and unhappy to see Diana on my arm.
A good match, undeniably, if we’ve already managed to piss everyone off.
I reach across the table and take her hand, giving it a small squeeze. It’s an encouraging one from one long-time friend to another, but to all those around us, it can appear as a lover’s touch. It’ll solidify the fact that this isn’t just a match set forth by our fathers, but one we’re both in on as well. A concrete partnership. Unyielding and unbreakable. Most definitely a statement.
“Thank you, lyublyu.” My love. She exhales a nervous breath.
I tug her hand to my lips and kiss her. “Of course, moy prekrasnyy.” My beautiful. I pull away and take a drink of my red wine. I prefer vodka, but not on a pre-engagement date. Wine definitely sets the tone. “Your father spoke to you, no?”
She nods as she pushes back her shoulders. Her blue eyes become sharp and intense. Business mode. I admire this about sweet Diana. “Ahhh, he did. It’s a new revelation, though. Can we expect a timeline?”
“My father wants it done before the annual V Games.”
“Of course,” she says politely. “I will begin planning the wedding. Any requests?”
“None.” Because I don’t. I’m marrying Diana to strengthen our family’s position. Nothing more. There are far worse choices than the eldest Volkov. Ruslan, for instance, has been matched to my sister, because I willed it so. Very far worse choices, indeed. He’s here tonight with his father and brother, Ven.
“I see. A simple man,” she says tightly, drawing my attention back to her. Her tone is abrupt despite the warm smile on her lips. “I’ll see to it that the wedding is beautiful and unforgettable. A woman dreams of this moment her entire life.” A sad longing twinkles in her eyes for a moment before it’s snuffed out. Her lips purse as she studies me. “I have requests, Vlad.”
I lift a brow. An interesting development. “Yes?”
“I will keep one of my own men as my main bodyguard if you would like me to stay with your family before the nuptials. You must understand where I’m coming from.” There is no malice or accusation in her tone. Simply business. She wants protection by one who will see to her best interest over mine and our family, and she can have it—until I put that wedding ring on her finger. At that point, she will learn to bend to my will and obey her husband.
I smile at her. “Of course. Anything else?”
“My sister,” she whispers, her voice cracking slightly. “You help me make sure she’s not used as a pawn. I want her to find happiness and love. The real, organic kind.”
I’m shocked at her words. “Irina should marry a Voskoboynikov.” And she should. They’re up and coming over that of the Vetrov. It is also why I did what I did to make sure Vika continued with the plan to marry one of Niko Vetrov’s brothers rather than Ivan Voskoboynikov. I wanted her under my thumb. My arranged marriage would strengthen the Vasiliev name. All that came with Vika was nothing but vengeance on my part.
Images of Irina dance in my mind at the thought of her in a gown being married off to a man she hardly knows. Him taking her to his bed and getting to be the first man to ever touch the delicate skin between her thighs.
“Vlad.” Diana shakes her head.
“Yes?”
“Are you okay? You groaned.” She arches a dark brow.
I take a sip of my wine and smile. “Sorry, no, I’m fine. I was just thinking what a great match that would be for your sister.”
Diana’s blue eyes blaze with fire as she pins me with a fierce stare. Being under her furious look has me wanting to tug at my collar so I can breathe better and force her to her knees to learn her place when she’s with me. I can see why she runs her business so well. She does so with ferocity. Again, quite admirable. I’m lucky to have her in my court. “She marries whom she pleases, Vlad. There is no negotiation. I want your word on this. You’ll let her come live with us and she will have free will.”
In this one conversation, Diana has rolled over and shown me her belly. Her sister Irina. Interesting. Her pure, angelic little shadow has often been a soft spot for me too, especially now that she’s blossomed into a woman. If Diana is to be my wife, I’ll need to make sure I have Irina in check as well. I will have one of my trusted men follow her and gain all the information he can. Diana has never shown me her sister means more to her than simply being blood. The intensity in her stare states they are more than sisters. Best friends, perhaps. Business partners for sure. And if I’m marrying one partner, I need to make sure I pick apart the other. No stone goes unturned. Ever.
Irina is her greatest weakness.
And I can see why.
She has this way about her.
I’ve been aware of this draw to Irina since I was a young boy. Sure, simply fascination at first. Curiosity. And then, with her age, came an allure so intense, I’d find my mind wandering back to her for hours after seeing her for mere seconds in passing. I always assumed my place would be with Diana, even from a boy, so I’d never shown Irina the impact her simple presence had on me. It isn’t in my nature to reveal my weaknesses.
Desire doesn’t rule my actions, and control is second nature to me.
Irina is not mine.
I can’t have her, so I’ll have the next best thing.
I pluck the eight-carat yellow diamond engagement ring from inside my jacket pocket, and once again, take Diana’s hand. She allows me to slide the impressive stone onto her slender ring finger. No need for a typical one-knee proposal.
“Miss Volkov,” I mutter. “I will protect you always from this moment on as you are to be mine. And if that means extending that protection and your wishes for Irina, then it will be so. You have my word.”
Her face breaks into a breathtaking smile that earns some stares of nearby men. Jealousy has no room in my calculating heart, but pride does. I love that they are seeing two powerful families come together with a strong bond. So often, when families join, it’s out of pure necessity. They sometimes hate their match.
I don’t hate Diana at all.
“You can bear children, yes?” I ask before placing another kiss on her hand and releasing her.
Her nostrils flare, her only sign of irritation. “I’m worth more than a working uterus, sir.”
A chuckle erupts from me, and I nod my head. “Oh, I have no doubt about that, fiancée. Just asking the questions my father wants answers to.” Lies. We already know the answers because I courted her father, Leonid, more over this engagement than I have her. She’s in perfect health and has been forbidden to date. Boys are a distraction her father told her, when in fact he was just keeping her pure. It’s hard to believe a woman like Diana wouldn’t have been getting her urges seen to. Our work is stressful. Thoughts of her touching herself to relieve the tension skitter in my mind and I lick my lips. I study her slender fingers as she holds her hand up to the light.
She smiles and inspects the ring. “This is beautiful.” Her eyes lift to meet mine. “As far as I know, I’m perfectly healthy.” An eyebrow arches at me. “I’ll be saving myself for the wedding night, so don’t get any funny ideas.” Ha. She reads minds.
Despite her attempt to make light of the situation, apprehension dances in her eyes. I lower my guard and speak to her, friend to friend, once more.
“I’ll be good to you,” I vow. “I will never lift a hand or hurt you. I’ll be a good husband if you’re a good wife.” I flash her a rare, impish grin. “And I’ve been told I’m an excellent lover. If you decide you need to test drive the merchandise, you know where I am.”
She lets out a lyrical laugh that once again draws the eyes of many men. “At least I won’t be miserable marrying the great Vlad. He’s got quite the sense of humor.”
We’re cut short on our conversation when our meal arrives. The server talks us through each item on our plate and the ingredients. I half listen as I scan the restaurant. My eyes catch a familiar amber pair.
Vika.
Fire and fury blaze in her gaze. She’s seated between Ruslan and Ven Vetrov. Ven is in a heated discussion with his father while Ruslan has his arm draped over the back of Vika’s chair. She wasn’t with them before. Perhaps she was in the restroom. Her tits are spilling out of her bright red dress. She’s the opposite of Diana. Diana is class and grace and timeless beauty. A worthy adversary. An even better match. Vika is nothing but a whore. And seeing her under the young twerp’s arm causes me to grin.
If looks could kill, Vika would slay me violently with her stare. Ruslan must sense her sudden change because he hugs her to him. His acne is out of control. For as much money as the Vetrov name has, you’d think they’d fix that kid’s face. When I glance over at Ven, I’m struck for a moment at how similar he is in appearance to that of his younger brother Niko. Niko and I were close until he started seeing Vika. She fed him whatever bullshit she feeds those around her and he fell for it. Poor bastard fell even harder for her twin’s charm.
Thoughts about my brother have the crab and wine reacting bitterly in my stomach. I miss him. Fuck, how I do.
“Is everything okay?” Diana asks. The friend, not the businesswoman.
“In due time,” I promise. “In due time.” When she’s my wife and I can trust her, I’ll let her in on Vika and the Vetrov family. Until she wears my last name proudly like she does my ring, I’ll keep her in the dark, where she belongs.
She parts her mouth open to speak when a commotion resounds from the kitchen.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
Gunfire.
I rise from my chair, reaching for my piece inside my jacket when Diana stands as well. She hikes up the elegant black dress to her thigh where she has a small Beretta strapped to the inside. Her slender, golden thighs are distracting for a moment, but then I’m stalking for the kitchen with her right behind me. Ven bumps shoulders with me as we try to make it through the door at the same time, our guns drawn and ready to fire.
A strung-out tweaker holds the chef at gunpoint and shuffles from foot to foot as he takes us all in. He’s manic—dirty and coated in sweat. He belongs in the gutter—not the finest establishment in Russia.
“I’m here for a goddamned Volkov. I know she’s here!” he yells. “Where is Irvac, you motherfucking cunt whore!”
Before I can formulate a response, Diana pushes past Ven and I with her weapon drawn. Her words are icy and cruel as she delivers them without fear. “Your brother was a thieving snake. Don’t worry, asshole, you’ll see him in hell.”
Pop!
With impressive marksmanship, she puts a bullet through his eye. He crumples to the floor and blood bubbles from his blown socket. She killed him. Two murders in one day. Diana Volkov is vicious, just like a Vasiliev.
“No weapons!” a man in a suit roars as he rushes her from behind. The moment he puts his hands on her, my instincts kick in. I made a promise to this woman, and I fucking intend on keeping it.
I grab him by the collar and yank him away from her. My fist connects with his nose with a sickening crunch. Broken. He stumbles away for a moment before charging me. I take another swing at him, but he blocks me and tackles me to the kitchen floor. He’s bigger, but I’m more cunning. I slip my hand between us and grab his throat in a violent grip. He hisses, and I easily flip him. With him pinned beneath me gasping for air as his face turns purple, I seek out Diana. Ven has an arm wrapped around her. She gapes at me as though she’s surprised I just defended her.
Of course I will. It’s my duty now.
She’s going to be a Vasiliev, and nobody fucks with a Vasiliev.
“Vlad,” a deep, calm voice says behind me. “Release him.”
Father.
I squeeze the asshole’s throat for a second longer before letting him go and rising to my feet. I straighten my jacket and run a hand over my hair to make sure it’s in place before stalking over to Diana and placing a finger beneath her chin to lift her head. Bright blue eyes blink at me. Trust. A flash, but it’s there. I give her a slight nod before turning to regard my father.
“He came for the blood of my fiancée,” I state, my voice now calm, just like my father’s.
His eyes travel to the dead body and he clucks his tongue. “Anyone would do the same.”
Nobody offers the information that Diana was the one to make the kill shot. It’s none of their goddamn business.
“I didn’t realize you’d be dining tonight,” I say, a slight edge to my voice. Bodyguards pile in and start cleaning up the mess.
Father gives the closest thing to a smile he can muster. “Some potential sponsors for The Games. We were in the clubhouse upstairs when we were alerted to an altercation.”
“It’s been dealt with,” I say coolly as I straighten my tie. I offer my hand to Diana. She steps out of Ven’s hold and takes it. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to escort Diana home.”
Father nods his approval, and we leave without another word.