by Lana Sky
“What else could you be willing to offer? Hmm?” Vadim finally inclines his head to observe us with the same scrutiny Maxim inspects him with. I feel my mouth fall open as I take him in. He’s beautiful—but in a different way than Maxim could ever be.
Instead of harsh, violent appeal, this man could only be described as delicate. His swanlike throat and graceful jaw are comparable to meticulously crafted glass in contrast to Maxim’s powerful bulk. But his eyes…
They’re a shade so dark they seem to glow, even from this distance.
“Do tell,” he prompts, waving his hand expectantly through the air. “You have my full attention.”
“I’ll give you a piece of my so-called empire,” Maxim replies, crossing his arms. “That’s what you crave, isn’t it? That which was always mine.”
“Oh no…” Vadim leans back against the counter, still fiddling with the bottle. The motion displays him from a different angle, making it apparent how young he is. Maybe in his early thirties, like Maxim. Or even younger—but whatever his age, he’s nowhere near naïve. A guarded calculation shapes everything from his perusing gaze down to the quirk of his chin. He’s ready for an attack at any moment. “Crave? I think the correct phrasing is ‘what I’m owed.’”
“Discuss my terms, and you can have it,” Maxim suggests. “What little scraps I’m willing to give.”
“Scraps…” Vadim runs a hand through his hair, parting the thick black strands. He observes a particularly long section, his nose wrinkling in disapproval. “You must think I’m stupid, Maxi,” he says, returning his attention to the other man. “A stupid fucking prick, huh? Even from my little hidey-hole, I’ve heard the rumors. That lately you’ve started collecting your dolls, rather than just fucking them.” He eyes me pointedly and sighs. “An amusing little anecdote. Following in the footsteps of our dear old man, I see? What is she? Some obscure countess you aim to impregnate before chopping her to pieces—”
“Is that what the rumors say?” Maxim interjects—but my brain remains stuck on three words. Our old man... I barely comprehend what he says next, “I knew you were wallowing in your shame, Vadim. But obsession? It’s beneath you.”
“So is lying, Maxi,” the other man scolds, wagging his finger. Was his insinuation a joke or something more? I can’t tell. The only similarity I can find between the two is icy, ruthless confidence. “But you’ve always been good at that,” Vadim adds. “Lying. Scheming. Backstabbing. How does the saying go? You can take the boy out of the whore, but not the whore out of the boy—”
“Enough.” Teeth bared, Maxim advances another impulsive step. “Watch yourself.”
“I’ve also heard that someone’s pissed off the old man,” Vadim says, seemingly unconcerned. “He doesn’t seem to care who you fuck, but the day little Maxi decides to take a wife? The old man issues a bounty. Have you stopped to wonder why? It isn’t like him to panic so easily. Not to mention, his favorite doggie’s gone missing. Though you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? While he may let you run your little empire on the side—” He gestures around us with a wave of his hand, indicating the club itself. “Anatoli wouldn’t react kindly to a direct challenge. And you’ve been such a dutiful servant all this time. Why risk it now?”
Maxim says nothing, but Vadim nods as if he has.
“Ah… I see. You were sloppy.” He grins, displaying perfectly white teeth. “Sloppy and reckless. If I can suspect as much, you can believe the old man has. It’s why he’s gone out of his way to bring you to heel. Oh yes, you’ve been a bad boy, little Maxi—”
“And you need to decide what role you want to play, Dima,” Maxim snarls in a tone so harsh I suck in a breath. “As a player? Or as the stray mutt, you’ve always been? Milton can’t protect you forever.”
“Maybe.” Vadim flicks his tongue over his lips. “Milton wants me to play nice and assist in your little war. What he really wants is for you to break from your chains and claim the city for yourself so he can stop worrying where your loyalties lie. But me? Maybe I should watch Anatoli rip you apart and find another whipping boy to serve as his figurehead? One could say I’ve dreamt about it...”
“Funny. I would dream about amassing my own power. But some things never fucking change, do they?” Maxim reaches into his pocket and withdraws a small, rectangular item that I recognize as a business card. From this angle, I can only make out a silver letter X gleaming on the front of it. “When you get tired of hiding behind another man’s pant leg, you know where to find me—” He tosses the card onto the floor. “Come when you’ve made your choice as to what role you’ll play.”
“What about as a spectator?” Vadim laughs again, but there’s no mistaking the sound for what it truly is. A growl. “The decision as to ‘where I stand’ was made for me a long time ago—I am no Koslov. And you’ve always made sure to remind me of that. Haven’t you?” He extends his throat, drawing my attention to a reddish scar stretching from his jawline down beneath the neckline of his shirt. It’s nasty, betraying the severity of the wound that made it.
I swallow hard and run my fingers along my own neck. Images sneak into my skull before I can fight them back—the feel of a knife, biting into my flesh.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Vadim’s eyes flicker toward me, meeting my gaze directly. Maxim snatches my arm, pulling me to his side, but something won’t let me turn away. It’s his expression. He doesn’t blink, his stare open and raw. With one look, I get the sense he understands all too well. “And I can tell your little friend has already gotten a taste of your…let’s call it, affection—”
“You speak to me,” Maxim demands in a hiss. “No one else.”
“If only you listened. But you are right. Let’s cut to the heart of it…” Vadim turns his attention to one of the intricate silver chandeliers hanging overhead, his frown wistful. “As much as I’d like to see the old man burn in hell, I don’t have a problem with Anatoli. In fact, you could say I’ve made peace with the idea of letting his time run its course—” His lips twitch in a fleeting smirk. “As for my help, tell me how someone as lowly and worthless as I can be of service to someone so great?”
“Cut the bullshit.” Maxim releases me and takes another step in Vadim’s direction. Mere feet separate them now, and for the first time, the other man displays a hint of wariness. He sets his bottle on the counter, freeing his hands. “I know Milton has been protecting you—”
“Milton is Milton.” Vadim lifts his arms in a casual shrug. “And as far as I know, he’s made his choice of alliance very clear.”
“Then you know as well as I do whose side that is. You’ve been attacking my network. Don’t insult my intelligence by insisting that he just found out recently. He knows your handiwork better than anyone. I’m sure he’s been aware of your scheming since day one,” Maxim continues. “You must have some resources to hide your tracks so well. Though scheming from the shadows isn’t too much of a stretch for a rat.”
“What can I say?” Vadim smiles, and the slight tilt to his mouth transforms his face. He’s a different man in a heartbeat, charming and bright. “I was taught by the best. You should know—he trained you too. Good old Anatoli. Tell me something.” He strokes his chin, suddenly thoughtful. “When you brought your new ‘friend’ to him—and I use that term loosely, all things considered—did he fuck her first? Or did you toss her to Sevastyn to have her broken in?”
A roar of anger reverberates like thunder. Maxim. In a blur of motion, he lunges at Vadim, his arm raised, fist poised for a blow.
But Vadim stands calmly in the line of fire. Right before Maxim can touch him, he says, “You did, didn’t you?” A shadow falls over his face, enhancing the nuances of his expression concealed until now. He’s not afraid. He’s angry—but in a different way from the furious figure standing between us.
Where Maxim radiates fire, this man is cool, controlled ice.
“You threw her to Sevastyn.” Awe paints his tone, mingled
with horror. “Either that or you failed to protect her from him. For some reason, Maxim, I never pegged you as a womanizer to quite that extent. Even with your quirks…”
Maxim says nothing, his fist still raised, body trembling with tension.
“I thought it was a lie, the last, juiciest bit of gossip fluttering around about you,” Vadim adds. “I guess not. Anatoli has put out a bounty, after all, merely to spite his golden boy. A hefty one.”
“Oh?” Maxim lowers his fist but doesn’t back away. If anything, he towers over the slender figure, but the pairing doesn’t seem quite as unbalanced as it should.
Maybe because his opponent meets his glare unflinchingly.
“A blood price to be exact. Krasnyy konets,” Vadim says. “So archaic and dramatic of him, but somewhat fitting in this sense. How else can he better define the rules of that precious family? Koslov. Otherwise, it’s figurehead may get the urge to induct some unworthy whore into such a stoic bloodline, and the world will fucking end.”
“Watch your mouth,” Maxim snarls.
“You know it’s true,” Vadim taunts. “Even in his old age, the man can still read you like a book, Maxi. You finally move to declare your independence from him, and he issues you a spanking you can’t ignore. A blood price is no small offer considering the old man—bless his soul—could keel over at any moment. I could claim the bounty now, for instance, and earn my place in the family, right over your head. In the event of Anatoli’s unfortunate demise, I might even be able to take the reins of the entire precious Koslov empire. Such a prize.”
“Am I supposed to feel threatened every time the old man decides to test me?”
“Oh, but I didn’t say the bounty was on your head.” Vadim’s gaze finds me again, glinting with renewed curiosity. “Did I? I see now, why you picked this one. A wide-eyed innocent little girl who won’t ever question her master. Who stays by your side, even when you toss her to the wolves. How much was she worth? A few grand? You wouldn’t pay any more than that—”
“Enough.”
“Yes. I’ve had enough.” Sighing, Vadim easily slips beyond Maxim’s reach and starts for the exit. “Goodbye for now,” he calls with an enthusiastic wave. “But we really should do this again. It’s been far too long…brother.”
Shock nearly robs me of the balance I have left. I almost miss Maxim’s reply. “You are nothing to me,” he hisses. “You want to play games? Get the fuck out.”
“Ah, yes, well, we can’t choose family, can we?” Vadim confidently strolls for the archway connecting this part of the club to the rest. “Oh, and I won’t be needing the calling card. I’ll just name my price outright. Since you like to whore out your woman, then that’s what I’ll take. An hour with her, alone—”
An object hurls through the air and smashes to pieces above Vadim’s head. A torrent of clear liquid and broken glass miss him by mere inches, but his steps don’t even falter.
“That’s the price,” he says, oblivious to the murderous glare Maxim directs his way. “And don’t think about having me followed. Your men are good, but they aren’t the sharpest tools in the shed, so to speak. Invest in more skilled minions if you hope to find me. I’ll await your real answer once you’ve thought on it. Dasvidaniya.”
“Follow him,” Maxim growls the second he’s beyond view.
“Yes, sir.” Tomas leaves, followed by two men.
“Fuck!” Maxim rakes a hand through his hair, his shoulders hunched away from me. When he finally looks back, I can’t read his expression. I don’t want to.
It’s funny in a sick way. These past forty-eight hours have desolated my sanity. My security. My sense of self. But out of all of the twisted revelations I’ve been forced to reconcile, only one lands the heaviest blow.
“He is your brother.” Like a broken record stuck on repeat, I can’t stop blurting it out loud. “You have a brother—”
“No,” Maxim growls with barely concealed restraint. We’re alone now, and his voice echoes to the furthest reaches of the club floor, easily dominating my hollow whisper. “My father had a bastard. Vadim is nothing more than a mutt. Look at me. Fuck, you’re still bleeding—”
“You never mentioned him,” I point out. God, I sound so dazed. Like I’m sleepwalking in a nightmare, half convinced that none of this is real. “I’ve told you everything about me. Everything about my family, but I didn’t even know you had a brother—”
“Vadim is not a factor in my life.” He snatches a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his suit and grabs my chin, keeping me still. “Your family is my only concern. Stay.” He dabs at the wound above my eye, his eyes narrowed. “Your pupils are dilated. You could have a concussion.”
“I’m fine.” I try to turn away, but his fingers skim my hair regardless.
“The doctor will examine you—”
“Just stop!” I cringe from him this time. Alarm renders him frozen, and he doesn’t reach for me again. “Please…”
“Alright.” He tosses the bloodied cloth aside. The fact that he backed down at all shocks me. Almost as much as how he stands there awkwardly, his fingers clenched into fists. “Lucius sent for a doctor,” he says after a second of silence. “When he gets here, let him examine you—”
“I need to go home. I need to… Ainsley was crying. She needs me.” More tears spill down my cheeks, startlingly hot. All this time, they’ve never stopped falling. “I need to make sure my family is okay. I need to comfort my baby sister, who had a bullet whiz past her head. I need to…” A sudden urgency spurs me to stumble for the doorway. “Take me back.”
Maxim doesn’t move. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because…” I look back, and his gaze reluctantly meets mine. “They’re already on a plane.”
A tattered laugh escapes my throat as I stagger, my knees trembling. Before they give out, my back strikes the nearest wall, and I cling to the cool surface.
“So, you’ve just kidnapped them.” At the back of my mind, I know I’m overexaggerating. Logic can’t pierce this fog of sheer, fucking panic. I can’t stop shaking. My chest feels like a brick is balanced on my ribcage, crushing it. No matter how quickly I breathe, I can’t find enough air.
“You’re hyperventilating.” Maxim places his hand on my shoulder, but I wrench away from him, and I have to brace myself against the wall again just to keep from falling.
“Don’t touch me! You’ve kidnapped them because that’s what it’s called when a stranger takes your family members away, isn’t it?”
“Kotyonok—”
“I don’t know you!” I bury my face in my hands, blocking out the sight of him. Something Vadim said serves as a morbid fucking key, unlocking the twisted, horrible memories I’ve done my best to lock away. “Is that why you wanted me to go with you?” I have to grit my teeth to keep from gagging. Vomiting. “You knew what he’d ask for. You said it—I would fascinate him. Was that it? You wanted… You wanted to w-whore me out—”
“Look at me.”
“Don’t!” I throw my hand out, keeping him at bay. “I don’t know you. I don’t know your past. I don’t know who your friends are. I didn’t even know until five seconds ago that you had a brother. Maybe it’s best if you don’t marry me.” I stare at my bare finger. This pinching, aching sensation in my chest, could be relief—not agony. “I think I’d rather be your whore than your property—”
“Enough!” Eyes flashing, he moves in on my position. Despite how I cringe from his touch, his hand sinks into my hair, forcing me to face him. “Vadim is no one. You care for your siblings, and I respect that. But him? He was a tool. One of my father’s many bastards. If anything, he was a whip that Anatoli used to punish me, serving as a reminder that I could always be replaced. Our relationship extends to nothing more than the shared blood of the monster who sired us. Do you understand?”
His nostrils flare when I don’t respond. Readjusting his grip, he wrenches my head to the side, and his opp
osite thumb traces the space above my left eye.
“You want to know why I brought you? Because if I didn’t, I would have lost my fucking mind, and I would have killed him. I would have lost control…” His voice breaks, followed by a laugh and then a sigh. “You say you don’t know me—but you do. You know when to ask me fucking questions I wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. You know how to use those fucking eyes so that I can see myself reflected in them. You keep me here.” His tone deepens with unsaid meaning. Here. In the present, away from the horror of his past.
“And I know that you don’t panic easily. I know when I’ve pushed you too far... And I know that I won’t lose you like this. Not because of him.” He releases me, only to grab my chin and coax me into meeting his gaze. “I want more than protection for you,” he admits, lowering his lips to the uninjured side of my forehead. “I want…”
His nostrils flare, inhaling me, and he says nothing else as if the act speaks for him. He wants my scent—skin and sweat and a hint of blood.
“You want your normalcy?” He finds my earlobe with his mouth, nipping it with gentle pressure. “Then you will have it. No matter what it takes.”
But, as if to counter that promise, slow, heavy footsteps advance on our position from the direction of the entrance hall. Maxim tenses just as the newcomer appears in the doorway. Dressed in an ebony suit crowned by a blood-red tie, the man cuts a striking figure against the gray backdrop.
“Milton…” Maxim withdraws from me, lowering his hands to his sides. The posture is a stark contrast from his hostility toward Dima—but not completely relaxed either.
“I came as quickly as I could,” Milton explains, fingering his collar. His eyes dart cautiously around the room before settling over the broken glass on the floor. “Vadim was here?”
“Don’t pretend like you don’t fucking know,” Maxim says with a scoff. “I’m sure he didn’t learn this location through luck.”
“It’s your right to mistrust him,” Milton says with a nod. “But can I make a suggestion?”
