As I walk down the hallway that leads to my study, I hear footsteps coming from behind. Since I sent Janet to my room, Iam curious about who’s in this part of the house. I turn and take a few steps forward, coming face-to-face with Ana.
She has on a faded blue top and shorts that stop at the hem of the shirt, leaving her legs bare. Her legs draw me in, asking to be wrapped around something. And I can imagine a couple of places where I’d like them to be. While I do things to other partsof her body, to see just how unruly and untamed she can be. And those lips?— How am I just noticing that she has a pale pink upper lip while the bottom one darkens a little around its curves? “Can I help you?” Her curt tone pulls me out of my short reverie. I shake my head, noticing that she’s glaring at me. “No,” I respond. Why was I ogling her? She’s Anastasia Petrov, for goodness sakes. My last name is just an attaché that means nothing but formality. If she were handed a gun and asked to shoot me, she wouldn’t hesitate. “Okay.” She shrugs and turns away. I turn too, but my phone beeps, and I take it out of my pocket. “I just saw Nikolai Petrov with Alexey. They’re sharing a drink. Looks like your alliance is falling apart, big boy.” Lucia. If she was trying to rile me up, she succeeded. I turn on my heels. “Ana.” She takes two steps forward before stopping. She’s not going to give me an audience, I see. “Your father isn’t allowed to step foot in this house, and you’re not allowed to see him from now on.” Ana turns slowly, and I see the confusion on her face, in her raised eyebrows and tilted head. “What do you mean? I’m notallowedto see Papa? That wasn’t the agreement we had. I’ve told you several times, Dmitri.Whatever form of control you have over your men, it’s not going to work for me,” she increases her pitch with the last word. “I’m not your slave or your toy.” Maybe it’s because of the text I just received, the conversation I had with Alexey, or the fact that he went behind my back, but something in me snaps. I march up to her, taking long strides as I keep my eyes fixed on her. We’ve been playing this game for far longer than I like, and it’s time to make her see things the way she should. My way. “You will not see your father again,” I repeat. “The day you do will be the last time you’ll know his whereabouts.” “Are you going to kill him? Is that what you’re saying? Then why haven’t you done it already? It wouldn’t be your first time, would it? Silencing someone who does the same things you do because you have more power,” she challenges me. Don’t let her slip under your skin, Dmitri. “Your father and mine were as close as brothers. He might not have told you, but my father helped him build what he has now and didn’t ask for anything in return. But the second my father died, yours started reaching out to otherpakhans, allying. He used them to start a fight against me.” I swallow hard before continuing, “He thought I’d be too caught up in grief to strike back. Your father,” I jab my finger in the air, “felt that he was entitled to what was mine because he had an agreement with my father. He didn’t even attend his funeral. And you judge me for wanting to take revenge?” The stubborn look on Ana’s face drops, and uncertainty flickers across her expression. Her lips part slightly, and her eyebrows furrow as she stares at me. “You’re fortunate,” I say. “Even though you don’t know it. Other men would do things to you that would make your life in this house a living hell. And I’m not saying I’m better.” I shakemy head because I consider acts like that barbaric. “I’m just telling you that you might as well start seeing things clearly.” “I-I . . .” she stutters. I exhale, regretting already that I so clearly threatened her. “My order stands. Your father isn’t to step anywhere near this house, and you’re not to see him. Until I change my mind.” With that, I leave her standing there and head to my room. I’ve had enough for one night. Hell, I already regret ever proposing this marriage agreement. I should’ve raised hell, crushing and damning all of them.ANAI hesitate to open my eyes, even though the sunlight has already flooded the room, casting long beams of warmth across my face. I’ve been lying here, awake, for what feels like hours, but it’s probably only been fifteen minutes. Still, I don’t want to move. There’s no reason to.In my old life, weekends meant something. I would’ve called my father, maybe spent the day at his house helping him with the legal tedium of his business. Or I’d have gone grocery shopping and stocked up on things I enjoyed. My weekends had a purpose back then.But none of that matters here. Not in this empty, echoing house. Not in this cold, new life where the rooms are too big, silent, and suffocating.I sigh, throwing the covers off and rolling out of bed with the grace of a sloth, letting myself collapse onto the floor with a dull thud. The pain is minimal, just enough to remind me I’m alive. I drag myself upright, rubbing the spot on my arm that hit the ground harder than intended.“Why did I do this?
As I turn, I catch a glimpse of a man standing a few feet away, watching me. He’s dressed in a full suit, which seems wildly out of place on a Saturday. Our eyes meet, and he quickly looks away.What the hell?I frown, glancing around. What’s a guy like him doing here? It doesn’t make sense.But then again, none of this makes sense. My life hasn’t made sense in weeks.I shake my head, trying to brush it off. “None of my business,” I mumble to myself as I turn around, continuing down the aisle.But something about the man lingers in my mind. Maybe it’s the way he looked at me—like he knew something I didn’t, like there was some invisible string tethering him to me. Or maybe I’m just paranoid, which wouldn’t be surprising given the circumstances. After all, I’m living in a nightmare I didn’t choose.I try to shake it off, losing myself in the racks of clothes. Ten minutes go by as I sift through Alice and Olivia pieces, trying to decide whether buying something new is even worth it. A d
She pauses. “Is everything okay?”“I don’t know,” I admit, my voice tight. “He wasn’t answering, and now I can’t even dial his number. Could you call him? Don’t tell him I asked you to.”“Of course. I’ll do it right now.”I hang up, and the wait feels like an eternity. Seconds turn into minutes, and I catch myself biting my cuticles—an old habit I’d kicked, which seems to resurface whenever Dmitri’s involved.My phone rings. The moment I hear it, I snatch it up, pressing it to my ear. “Yes?”“You were right, his phone’s still off,” Daria says, her voice careful. “But I called his second line, and he picked up. He told me to tell you he’s fine.”I freeze, processing her words. Hissecond line? I didn’t even know he had another phone.“Did he say anything else?” I ask, the knot in my stomach tightening.“No, Ana. Just that he’s fine.”My forehead wrinkles in confusion, and anger begins to simmer under my skin. “He didn’t say he’d call me back?”She hesitates. “No.”I’m about to say somet
DMITRI“Dmitri Orlov,” Igor announces as he strides into my office, grinning like the fool he is.I know exactly why he’s smiling. He’s just secured a deal usingmyname, thinking I wouldn’t catch on. But I did. Of course, I did. I let him believe he’s clever, though—it’s far more entertaining to watch him dig his own grave.For now, I play along. I turn off my laptop and close the file on my desk before rising to meet him. “Let’s go to the conference room. The others are waiting.”Igor’s grin falters just slightly. “You don’t look like a happy man, Dmitri. Trouble at home?”I shoot him a sidelong glance, my voice cold. “Would you like trouble inyourhome, Igor?”He chuckles nervously, his bravado faltering. “I didn’t mean to pry. Just concerned.”“You don’t need to be concerned. You’re here for business, nothing else.” My tone leaves no room for argument. “Alexey and Bianchi are already seated, and your business is… lesser, compared to theirs. Let’s not waste more time. Time is money, I
I’ve been staying in my penthouse in the city, keeping my distance to avoid getting tangled up in emotions I never intended to feel. Since the wedding, things have changed. I find myself thinking about her at random moments. The defiance in her eyes when she tells me I have no right to control her life. The stubborn set of her chin when she demands I fight my own battles, leaving her out of it.I shouldn’t be thinking about her, but I do. Too often.The worst part? I wasn’t even angry when she called me a hypocrite for doing exactly what her father did, only with more power. I should’ve been, but all I could think about was how she masked her fear and stood toe to toe with me, unflinching. No one’s ever done that before. Not even Alexey, who came crawlingwith an apology after today’s meeting to avoid the inevitable consequences.But Ana got under my skin. She told me shehatesme. Those three words echoed in my mind all night, twisting and turning until I couldn’t sleep. Why the hell do
ANA“Mr. Benjamin,” I say, rising from my desk as the door opens. He walks in, all smiles and swagger. I know who he is immediately—one of those state-level politicians who once ran for governor and lost spectacularly. His opponent was just more conniving, more willing to play dirty.“Mrs. Orlov,” he greets me, extending his hand with that politician’s grin. It’s wide, practiced. His shake is too firm, borderline painful. I pull away quickly and rub my hand against my skirt, sitting back down and reminding myself this is just another client.“I’ve read through your case, Mr. Benjamin,” I start, trying to keep it professional. “I want to assure you that I’ll do everything in my power to?—”“You’re married to Dmitri Orlov, aren’t you?” he interrupts, leaning in with that same grin.I nod, my stomach tightening. I hate when people bring up my marriage, especially in the office. It’s like they don’t see me anymore—just his name, attached to mine.“Nice,” he says, still smiling, like he’s
“You should go change,” Freya says, completely oblivious to my seething anger. “Everyone’s waiting for you.”Oh, they’re going to get something alright. But it’s not going to be what they expect.Still in my office clothes, tired and annoyed, I storm through the front entrance. If Dmitri wants to make me play hostess, he’s about to regret that decision. I’ll show these guests exactly who I am—no fancy dress, no smiles, no playing the obedient wife.But instead of finding a crowd in the living room, I run straight intomy husband.“What’s going on?” I snap, barely keeping my voice level. “Why did you invite people without telling me? I come home to strangers ogling me like I’m some prized possession.”His expression is infuriatingly calm. “Does it matter?” he says, shrugging. “All you need to do is go upstairs, put on one of your pretty dresses, and play hostess.”“Hostess? What am I, your trophy wife?”His face hardens, and his next words cut deep. “Why do you think I married you? You’
DMITRIEven though it’s been a week, I can’t shake the image of Igor holding Ana’s hand. It’s etched into my mind, like a splinter I can’t dig out. Every detail from that night keeps replaying in my head—her in that emerald dress, her body practically sculpted by the fabric, the way the neckline teased just enough to drive me mad.I remember how I first saw her that night, walking into the garden like she owned the place. The dress clung to her curves, her cleavage perfectly framed, leaving me hard as a rock just from looking at her. The way she carried herself was infuriatingly captivating, each step drawing every eye in the room, mine included.I told myself it was nothing. That I didn’t care. After all, I’d thrown that damn party to show her exactly what she was—a trophy. Nothing more. But when I caught one of the men staring at her too long, a possessive anger surged inside me.Why the hell would I be jealous?I don’t even like her.Or so I keep telling myself.It doesn’t matter,
I got up from the chair, walking past Arlo to the door as I watched them both. Like the colors of a rainbow, my brother had different sides. He had his days: good ones, bad ones, crazy ones, and bloody ones. I didn’t trust him to keep his cool with this foolishly brave girl. But fuck interfering. I wasn’t going to stop him.Whatever he decided was going to be her fate. She was his problem to deal with now.“Let him do whatever he wants. My only concern is those two.”“But Enzo….”“I’ll blow his fucking head off if it comes down to the worst.” I was unbothered, and I made sure he understood that.“You know what? Forget your fucking brother….” The Italian and Rafa were still at it. “You’rethe piece of shit, you crazy fuck! Who stands in the middle of the road with a gun anyway? My papa’s going to have your head for this!”“Boy, am I going to enjoy killing you. You called me a dog. Pleased to inform you that I barely bark; I fucking bite.” Theshinkechoed in the room, and silver pressed a
TimurI adjusted the gloves against my wrist and tossed the syringe to the floor while I watched the sight of them resting against each other,Pchelkaand her brother. They both had bloodied faces, but I was more concerned with the sunshine princess, whose golden hair had mingled with streaks of red. The other one, with dark eyes and a spitfire mouth, had her eyes shooting daggers at me, Rafayel, and Arlo.She’d woken up first.“I’ve heard a lot about you, Timur Yezhov, but none of those briefs warned me ahead of time that you’d be this dumb.”“I’m going to slice your fucking tongue off, bitch,” Arlo sneered beside me in Russian, but I raised a hand. There was no use spilling her blood yet. We had to hear more from her; then I’d decide if keeping her alive was worth it. Her feistiness was interesting to watch—entertaining, even. She was good sport.Jerking my chair closer to their huddled bodies, I propped my elbows on my knees, leaning forward. She didn’t even flinch. Cocking her head
Jayden shot me anare-you-serious-right-nowlook over his shoulder, still marching forward toward the pavement.“They don’t have Honda Odysseys,” he emphasized, like that wasn’t already obvious. “And they don’t do simple.”Then, he halted in his tracks, allowing me to step beside his huge frame. Taking my hands in his, he let me in, permitting me to see the fear in his eyes for the first time that night.“Look, Seri, I know this is not the life you planned for either of us. You’ll miss your kids at school, you’ll miss the house, you’ll miss everything. But none of us could have known what Dad did, the debt he owed. I promise we’ll sort out this messafterwe leave. Those goons can’t know we’re gone.”Sniffling tears, I nodded and pulled him in for a brief hug before we got to the car. Subtly, he knocked on the window three times. It was eerie, like a secret Morse code only he and the driver understood, and when the door opened and the driver walked up to us, I blinked in disbelief.The la
Serena“And you’re sure this is a good idea?” I asked for the hundredth time. And, again, earned a tired, frustrated growl-slash-sigh from Jayden.Upfront, he stopped walking and turned around with his flashlight pointed directly at me. I squinted, raising my arms to shield my eyes from the bright rays. We were in an abandoned dry canal—one I didn’t know how Jayden had managed to find. Dressed in a black hoodie with a backpack slung over his shoulder, standing at the center with that annoying flashlight, he looked like a villain—a teenage ninja villain.But it was just Jayden.“Take that thing out of my face, please.”I couldn’t see his face, but I knew my brother well enough to feel his vexed eye roll. He dropped the flashlight and turned his back to me, continuing his trek down the canal. Quietly, I shifted the knapsack on my backpack, following the sharp outline of his broad back as he trudged deeper into the swallowing darkness.“No, it’s not a good idea,” his voice echoed around
“Fuck! I almost had him,” Rafayel cursed, dropping his cards beside mine.“My apologies, but this is important. Level one shit,” Arlo said, looking anything but remorseful for interrupting our moment.I didn’t mind because I knew he had something—he always did.He stopped in front of me, flashing his phone toward me as if I could see the screen. A sly grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Got updates on the Skye siblings.”The Skye siblings.Truly, level one shit.“Good or bad?”“Somewhere in between. They barely leave the house. They’re scared. Real scared.”Satisfied, I approved the update with a nod. Of course, they were scared. They knew exactly what was coming and couldn’t run far enough. But Arlo wasn’t done.“But that young one,” he continued, his eyes narrowing slightly, “Jayden.”“The boy?”“He’s got eyes of fire. They know we’ve been watching and are gonna try to run. I see it.”I sat up straighter, grabbing the cards. “Then let them.”He paused, and Rafayel raised a ques
TimurRafayel dealt the cards with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes, but his face remained calm.Clicking my tongue distastefully, I leaned backward on a chair, folding up my sleeves. We sat across from each other, the low rumble of thunder muffled in the background. It was supposed to be one of those rare moments when we had some peace, no business to deal with, no chaos to clean up—just a game of cards between brothers—until the clouds gathered.“It still bothers you, doesn’t it?”Rolling the cigar stick between my fingers, I trimmed the end with my cutter. “Sometimes.”“And the dreams?”I fixed the cigar between my lips, bouncing my feet up and down the rug. “Stopped about a year ago. Stop talking, and let’s play.”Fucking lying through my teeth. The dreams hadn’t stopped. Not since that night after I was literally tied to a chair and forced to watch one of my father’s techniques for truth extraction. The aggressive thunderclaps, the artistic splash of red on the walls,
Serena“Who were those men?”That was the first thing Jay had asked five nights ago after the unannounced visit of the men in black.Quickly, I’d wiped the tears off my cheeks with the back of my hands. My feet stopped moving, pausing by the counter. I was about to put the cake away, ready to chuck it inside the fridge, when he stormed into the house, confused, concerned, and angry at the same time.I’d wished him a happy birthday, but Jay didn’t care, not about the wish or the cake I’d spent hours baking. Instead, we’d spent the wee hours of his birthday talking about the Russian mafia and the debt our late father owed.We sat in the living room tonight, the same cloud of gloom and uncertainty hanging over our heads as more rain pelted the glass windows. He parted the curtains with his fingers again—for the fifth time exactly—and the view was the same: rain, dark, cloudy skies, billows of what appeared to be dusty wind, and a black truck with bright white headlights.“They’re not goi
“This…this is outrageous!” Waving the paper midair, eyes zeroed in on me, glaring with instant anger. “My dad died last year, so you can’t get anything from him.”“We are well aware of that because he stopped paying last year.” Eagerly, Arlo gestured toward the contract. “Read the last line.”She did.And she jumped to her feet, red-hot with anger. She was trembling with tears, the prickly pines emerging from within as she got ready to defend her home and her brother with everything. “No.”I sat back, assessing her while she faced my underboss.“Technically, yes. Oliver signed that contract.”“And I don’t care! You…you guys can’t do this. It’s evil. How can his debt pass on to his male blood relative? It washisdebt, and we knew absolutely nothing about it. Jay doesn’t know a thing. Please, I’m begging you. He’s only seventeen. He’s still a child.”“Child, my fucking foot. I cut a man’s finger off at fifteen. Your brother’s already fucked a woman, and you wouldn’t even know.”Realizing
TimurI sat on the couch in the dainty living room, Arlo standing beside me and Kristian and Vasili by the door. Everything was more her than Oliver: the colors, textures, and smell. She owned the space, and her composure and confidence were the indicators.Placing the basketball cake on the center table, she took the seat opposite mine, crossing her legs with elegance and chewing her bottom lip with her nerves all over the place.Raising her head, she looked me in the eyes—a sparkling pair of blue eyes that reminded me of the reflection of clear skies on the vast ocean. She was not tall, but when she squared her shoulders in a feeble attempt to appear fierce, her height edged upwards.“You claim that you’re my father’s friends, and yet, I don’t even know your names.”I shouldn’t have been surprised that she wanted an introduction. She looked like the type, anyway.“Timur Yezhov. Not exactly pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Serena Skye, given the circumstances.”“Arlo.” Arlo ra