Diana is in a heated conversation with Anton when I arrive at her office after a late breakfast. I’m exhausted from last night’s revelations. It’s not typical for me, but for once, I slept in.
The conversation looks tense if the frustration etched on Anton’s features is anything to go by. I slip in and take my seat. Both of them ignore me, but my presence is known. Diana sits behind her large desk and gestures for Anton to leave with a chin tilt.
He doesn’t move for a good four seconds. I know because I count them.
Eventually, with an almost imperceptible sigh, he rises and stalks away. His footfalls are heavy with intent to show his displeasure at whatever they’ve discussed. She probably plans to make him accompany us to the Vasiliev estate. It’s not the job he’s used to or even suited for, but it’s the one he’ll do if she orders it. Anton is Father’s right-hand man. He does all our father’s dirty work and does it with a smile and a nod. So there is no doubt he will comply and accompany us. Diana will make sure Father thinks it’s a good idea too. Diana always has a way with men and our father isn’t immune to her charm.
“You look tense,” I comment, watching her for any signs of cold feet.
“There’s just a lot to prepare for.” Her sigh is heavy and resigned. She’s no longer the giddy, excited woman from last night.
I stand and walk over to her, sitting on the corner of her desk. “Does Anton not want to play security for us?” I ask in a playful tone, but it doesn’t break through her salty mood.
“Anton will do as he’s told,” she grinds out, her voice cold and unwavering.
Holding up my hands in mock surrender, I make my way back to my chair. “Like we all do,” I snip at her.
She slams her pen to the desk. “Not now, Irina. If you’re going to be a brat, you can work from your own office.”
I gape at her outburst. My eyes drift to the adjoining door separating our offices. I’ve never used mine. Never. I haven’t even been in that office since it was assigned to me by Father over a year ago. She and I work together. It’s what we do.
My chest aches, but I call her bluff. I stand and move toward the door. I’ll teach Diana that her snapping at me like I’m the help won’t be tolerated. Before my hand touches the handle, she rushes over to me.
“Stop,” she cries out, her voice cracking. “I didn’t mean it.” She stands between me and the door, her brows scrunched together in worry.
“I know you didn’t,” I bite out. “So don’t say things you don’t mean.”
She reaches forward and brushes away my hair, tucking it behind my ear. “Okay. I’m sorry. It’s not you.” She sighs and touches her lips with her fingertip, her canary-yellow diamond engagement ring reflecting brilliantly. “I’m a little stressed.”
I fold my arms and take a couple steps toward my chair. She makes her way back over to her desk. I turn abruptly and open the door to my office. Her gasp is audible, and she rushes over to pull the door closed. Her eyes are so round and bright, they look like full moons.
“I-I-I sleep in there sometimes,” she sputters out, her voice wobbling with nerves. “When I’m working late at night.”
Although she is quick to close the door, I’ve already mentally scanned and stored what was inside.
There’s a bed expanding from the far wall where my desk was once situated. The covers are in disarray, and if I’m not mistaken—which I never am—there are a pair of panties in two pieces at the foot of the bed.
“Shadow,” she says my nickname desperately, and it’s then I realize I haven’t spoken. When I look up into her penetrating gaze, I see fear. It’s not something I’ve ever seen in Diana’s eyes. She’s always so sure of herself. So calm and poised. “I just sleep there sometimes when I work late,” she repeats, as though saying it again will somehow make me believe those words.
Her room is a few doors away. There’s no need to sleep in there. I’m not buying her story.
“Irina, please,” she begs, her voice an edgy whisper. I understand the unspoken words in her tone.
Please don’t ask questions.
Don’t tell anyone.
Never mention this ever again.
Before I can conjure up a thought, screeching echoes down the corridors. I recognize our mother’s voice and turn to follow the disruption. My father’s deep tone bellows from his office, and when we reach the door, it’s ajar. Our mother’s sobs bounce through the open space there.
“How could you not have known? He looks just like you,” she cries.
“I don’t make a habit of looking at servant kids, Olga. Are you telling me you knew?” he growls.
“You think I can’t see my own husband’s eyes looking up at me? Why do you think I sent them away?”
“Vy kunt!” You cunt. His roar echoes off the walls and the crack of his hand connecting with her flesh is loud. I push through the door to see our mother bent over his desk holding her cheek.
Our father’s eyes snap to me, then to Diana, who followed me inside.
“What’s going on?” I breathe. I scan the scene before me, taking it all in. When my eyes fall on the man standing beside our father, my stomach curdles.
He’s so familiar, I recognize him instantly.
Vas.
He was always around us as children. A wretched little brat. His mother was our most valued maid and we loved her. I cried for weeks when Mother told us she’d left to work elsewhere. Now, looking at him, I see our father in every inch of his face, his frame…damn, even his posture is an exact replica.
“Girls, this isn’t the way I wanted you to hear this…” Before he can finish, our mother straightens, brushes her hands down the front of her fancy dress, and turns to face us.
“Your father’s bastard has returned to the fold, moi docheri.” My daughters. “To take the kingdom from beneath you.”
“Enough,” Father barks out his warning.
She’s always been weak, but in this moment, she is fire and beauty. She is Diana. Fierce and formidable.
“Look at you both,” Vas croons, holding his hands out in front of him. “So grown up. So beautiful.”
“Otets,” Diana breathes. Our father reacts to her pained call and moves toward her, taking her hands.
“I found out recently Vas is, in fact, a result of my indiscretion,” Father admits.
“She knows you screw the help,” Mother snaps. “They’re not blind or stupid.” She flinches, all fire snuffed out, when father drops Diana’s hands and waltzes toward her.
“Ostorojno, jenshina.” Careful, woman.
“How long have you known?” I find the words tumbling out of me as the past months play over and over in my head.
“Nearly a year,” Vas answers for our father.
Nearly a year? Bastard.
This is why he suddenly wants to pawn us off like chess pieces. He has no need for daughters. He has the son he always wanted. Vomit threatens to spill from my lips. I won’t give Vas or our father the pleasure of seeing me fragmenting, my entire childhood scattering and drifting away like smoke from a fire.
It’s been one full week since Father dropped the bomb. And a week was all it took to pack us up to move to the Vasiliev estate. Father was positively giddy as he escorted us to our new home. He’s getting the best of both worlds. Two daughters he can try to use as spies to gain the upper hand, and now a son to run his empire in their wake.
I hate him.
I hate Father so much, I could scream.
And all of Mother’s fury died once he set her in her place. She retreated to her room and drowned her sorrows in Father’s most expensive vodka, chasing pain pills like it was her job. That’s good ol’ Ma. Hiding behind a haze of numbness while her daughters are sent into the fray to do the dirty work.
As we enter the ornate foyer in the Vasiliev home, I realize this home is anything but the slums. Everything is expensive and well taken care of. Servants peek from around corners, trying to catch a glimpse of the new prizes Vlad has acquired.
That is what we are, after all.
Prizes.
After seeing Vas with my father and the way my mother behaved last week, I find my heart bitter and angry. Diana has retreated into herself, but I’m bubbling with rage. This life Father has created for us is bullshit. Yes, we’re spoiled with anything money can buy, but it can’t buy happiness. Hell, it can’t even buy contentedness. We’re moving into the enemy’s mansion and we’re expected to play nice.
I’m so done playing nice.
“This way,” a woman with big boobs and a forced smile says. We follow her through a series of corridors until it opens into a new wing of the house. “This is the north wing. Five bedrooms, five bathrooms, a small kitchenette, a library, an office, and a sitting area. I do hope these accommodations suit you.” Another fake smile. “The bathrooms, especially, are quite nice.”
Diana nods and smiles back at her. My sister’s smile is gorgeous. Fake as well, but gorgeous. “Thank you, darling. This is more than lovely.”
“I’m Rada,” the woman says. “Should you need anything at all, please push the button on any of the panels in each room and I will be at your service.”
As the woman starts to leave, Diana stops her. “Rada, when will dinner be served? I assume we’ll be dining with my fiancé, Mr. Vasiliev?”
Rada’s cheeks burn crimson and she purses her lips. “I’m unsure, ma’am. Someone will be around to let you know.” Rada bows her head, then scurries off.
“I don’t like her,” I grumble out.
“You don’t like anyone,” my sister teases. Despite her forced playfulness, I can sense her apprehension. We’re in the lion’s den. Vlad may be a gentleman and a longtime friend, but he’s still a Vasiliev. Cunning and ruthless. Violent when the situation calls for it.
“I should room between you in case any trouble should arise,” Anton grits out. “I’ll need to get to you both quickly.”
Diana gives him a nod. He stalks off to check out the rooms. I walk over to a leather chair in the sitting room and plop down. My eyes skim over every detail of the room. Dark, thick drapery covers the windows, allowing little to no light in. A fireplace cackles with a fire on one end of the room. Not a speckle of dust jackets anything in the space. The home is clean and immaculate, just not very warm and cozy. It could definitely use some throw blankets and a couple fuzzy pillows.
My sister smirks at me. “Don’t,” she warns, her lips turning up into a wide grin.
“I’m just thinking,” I say with a pout.
“And what color is this thought?”
I let loose a small giggle. “Teal. I mean teal and chocolate go so well together.”
“Oh, dear God,” she says, shaking her head. “Can you imagine the look on Vlad’s face if he came into this room only to see you’ve redecorated it to your specifications?”
I stick my tongue at her, earning another laugh. “I just think these big houses are gloomy. All it would take would be a few chenille blankets, a couple faux fur throw pillows, and a splash of color. Voila. Creepy dungeon turned magical reading spot.”
She nods and gives me a thankful smile. My sister wants me to try to make this work. For her, I will. I’ll never let my guard down, but if she has hopes of finding happiness, I won’t stop her. “I’ll speak to Vlad,” she vows. “Order what you want and I’ll convince him to let us spruce up the north wing.”
I raise both brows at her. “And what makes you think big, bad Vlad will agree to chenille and teal?”
My sister winks at me. Such a devious wink. “I can be convincing when I want to be.”