by K. Webster
Gritting my teeth to keep from going off on him, I move to sit in the chair opposite my father’s desk and rest my hands together in my lap. It takes everything in me to stave off the urge to disobey and go back to helping Diana, where her underwear are scattered on the floor for greedy eyes to witness.
“She can stay here with us,” I tell rather than ask.
My father’s eyes blaze, but then he picks up his phone and puts it to his ear. After a few silent beats, he speaks into the receiver.
“Leonid,” he barks, his tone gruff. “Something that belongs to you has just been deposited on my office floor.” Silence, and then, “That will come at a price.” More silence.
“Very well, but be warned, although my sons have their mother’s soft heart, I do not.”
With that, he ends the call and stands. “Go find her a room, Veniamin,” he orders, “and make it on my wing of the house.” He saunters over to Diana, who looks up at him with tear-streaked eyes. He smirks, cupping her under the chin. “I heard you have a thing for older men.” He licks his lips in a salacious manner before releasing her and leaving us.
Diana sniffles and wipes a hand over her face, removing all the fluids trying to escape her. I go to her and help her up. She’s a little unsteady, but I give her the strength she’s lacking.
“I will not bed your father,” she grits out through clenched teeth. “I’d rather go to hell.”
I stroke a hand down her hair to calm her. “I would never let that happen,” I murmur low. “Now, come.”
I guide her down the corridor into my section of the house and open the door to one of the spare rooms close enough to mine that I’ll be able to hear her coming and going. She untangles herself from me and races straight to the bed, throwing herself face down and screaming into the pillow. Closing the door behind us, I take one of the chairs spaced out around the room and sit. It takes her a good five minutes to calm down and sit up. Her eyes are stained with black makeup, and her usual red, perfect lips are smudged and faded. Strands of her dark hair have come loose from her up-do, and one of the straps on her dress is broken, revealing the creamy flesh of her shoulder. Despite it all, she’s still incredibly beautiful. It’s almost painful to look directly at her.
She is beauty and grace wrapped in vines of chaos.
She is my rose.
My Diana.
“It wasn’t supposed to end like this,” she croaks, gripping the duvet in her fists. “The engagement was so fast, and I knew we needed to stop…” She sniffles, frown lines marring her forehead. Her eyes are downcast as she thinks about everything that transpired. “I know what you’re thinking.” She lifts her eyes to meet mine. “That I’m a whore.”
“I don’t think that, Diana. I’m a little shocked, but we all have our secrets.” I want her to know she still has a friend in me—that not everyone will brand her a whore and write her off as damaged goods. Damn, we live in a world of sinners, raised by criminals, taught to lie and corrupt as soon as we’re off our mother’s tit. What can they expect when one of us messes up?
“But why Anton?” I find the question slipping from my lips after asking it in my mind on repeat since the moment I found out.
She stands, wrapping her arms around her waist to comfort herself. Her feet tread over the carpet toward the window where she stops and pulls the drapes aside to look over acres of woodland.
“It started as something to avert his eyes from that of something precious—too precious for him to dirty up.” She sighs and looks over her shoulder at me “And then it grew into something more. I don’t know, Ven. When that is all you’ve known since you were sixteen, they become a part of you, I guess.” She sighs.
Sixteen?
Goddammit, he was a fucking monster.
“What did you mean by averting his eyes from something precious?”
I rise to my feet and approach her without thought. She’s hurting, and it summons something inside me.
Her head bows, then lifts with an inhale of breath. “Irina has always had this beauty about her she’s never been aware of. It’s what makes her so precious and alluring,” she breathes.
I think back to how old Irina was when Diana was sixteen. My teeth clench and my hands ball into fists so tight, the nails dig into my palms. That sick motherfucker.
“He was a predator,” I grind out, pissed off at the fact he’s now dead and I can’t get my hands on him.
“No.” She shakes her head, turning on her heel to face me. The blue of her eyes is so vibrant, awash with her tears.
I grasp her upper arms and bore my eyes into hers. “Yes, Diana, he was. And you were a victim.”
“No,” she tries again, her eyelashes flitting open and closed as her brain struggles to fight the truth. Her tears leak over the apples of her cheeks and a sob shakes her entire body.
I crash her against my body, holding her as she breaks while coming to terms with what Anton was. While she admits to herself it wasn’t love keeping her tethered to him, but fear. Fear that he would turn his attentions back to her little sister. She was protecting Irina by giving a monster her own body, mind, soul.
“Goddammit, Diana,” I utter as I stroke her hair. “Why do you have to be so brave?”
She pulls back, looking up at me with her crystalized blue eyes drenched in unshed tears.
“Because what other choice is there?”
“You’ll be okay now,” I tell her with pure conviction. “I promise.”
She smiles, and the tears that threatened to spill moments before finally drop to her now swollen cheeks. “You have to say that. It’s your job to train me for The Games.” She giggles, but it’s light and humorless.
My hands grip her shoulders, and I scowl. “You’re not going into The Games. Vlad is just angry. It will pass.”
She wipes her face with a swipe of her palm, and I pull her against my chest once more. “Thank you, Ven.”
I’ll help her find herself again.
Rebuild and reclaim what he stole, and then I’ll give her everything she deserves.
I vow to show her the difference between a monster and a master.
One week later…
Dead. Empty. Hollow. Gone.
I’ve been at the Vetrov home for nearly a week and I’ve barely moved. Grief is a powerful emotion. Vicious and vile. It’s relentless as it attempts to scrape away every happy moment in your life from the inside. You’re left feeling raw. Bleeding and sore. It doesn’t just go away.
I have no hope.
Each time I try to think of something that brings me joy, I’m reminded of everything that was ruined. My sister is no longer a safe place. Irina, with her blonde hair and innocent blue eyes, has been sleeping with the enemy.
Why, Irina?
Why Vlad of all people?
I know why, though. Vlad is breathtakingly handsome and brutal in a way that makes most women equally fear and salivate over him. He has the kind of power emanating from him that’s so hot, you want to feel the burn against your flesh. I’m sure my sweet, angelic sister is loving every second of being mauled by the devil himself. Him urging her to sin.
Bitterness creeps into my heart.
He took Anton from me, then stole Irina.
I’m all cried out, but my soul weeps. As I stare at the wall painted a deep, rich navy blue, I try to remember the good times with Anton. I ignore the truthful words Ven spoke.
He was a predator.
He may have been a predator and I did what I had to in order to stop him, but somewhere along the way, I fell—hard and fast—for a man as old as my father. I still remember the day I made my move. On Anton. It was right after I kissed Ven for the first time.
Little does Ven know, he was my first kiss. I’d fantasized about kissing Veniamin since the day he turned sixteen and I was twelve. He had muscles. I remember him pulling off his shirt and I stared in a daze at all the curves of his body. This was before beards and body hair and tattoos. He was still wild, thou
gh. Strong and fierce. I’d been enamored at his birthday party where we’d all been invited. He swam in their indoor pool, his back muscles bunching and tightening with each stroke. Veniamin Vetrov was my first crush.
When I’d finally kissed him years later, I’d been thrilled. But then, all it took was remembering the way Anton looked at my sister and I knew what I had to do.
Anton offers me his arm, and I walk away with him, my lips still tasting of Ven. Minty and clean with a hint of alcohol on his tongue. I could have spent hours kissing him. Hours running my fingers through his beard. I wanted to crawl into his lap and clutch his longish hair as I gazed into his fierce emerald green eyes.
Of course, getting what you want and doing what needs to happen are two different things. My mother taught me that. Sometimes, you have to make hard choices.
“Irina,” Anton greets as we walk past.
My sister’s blue eyes are still wide at having witnessed the kiss between Ven and I. Vika, the little brat, sobs as if her life is over. It is over. She will never marry well or have a good life. She’s too spoiled and only thinks about herself. When you’re selfish and things don’t go your way, it crushes and hollows you. It’s a testament to your strength, however, when you take what is delivered to you and manipulate it into something that works for you.
I knew it would come to this, me seducing Anton. It’s the only way. And I allowed myself a stolen first kiss from the man I adored because I knew once I started this, there was no turning back. I would follow it through to the end.
When Father finds out, he will kill Anton.
And for what he wants to do to my sister based on the filthy look in his hard brown eyes, I will gladly take one for the Volkov team to get what I want in the end: Anton’s death.
He walks me to my room, far away from our visitors, and starts to tug away. I stop him by clasping his elbow. His brows furl together as he regards me. I can admit he’s handsome in a distinguished sort of way, but the flickers in his eyes terrify me. Like staring into the depths of hell. Evil dances there unabashedly.
Be brave, Diana.
I reach into those windows of the abyss and call to the demon.
Me. Me. Me.
Not her.
“Anton,” I murmur as I run my palms up the lapels of his suit.
“Miss Diana.” His voice is husky, but he doesn’t retreat.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” I admit. Plotting your death, actually.
His eyes narrow, and he steps closer, his hard body pressing against mine, his erection hard in his slacks. My breath catches with fear, but I swallow it down and force a smile.
“Little girls don’t need to think about grown men,” he growls, his fingers running through my dark hair.
But grown men can think about little girls?
I suppress a shudder.
“I’m not a little girl,” I whisper. Not like her. I can take this.
His fingertips stroke down the side of my throat, and he runs them over the swell of my breast, testing me.
I will not falter.
I’ve been tested my entire life by my father. Not like this, but in every aspect he could.
I’m a rose to them. Delicate and sweet.
Too bad I’ll make them all bleed when they discover I have many sharp thorns.
“He’ll kill me,” he utters, his thumb brushing against my nipple.
My body reacts, and surprisingly, the sensation isn’t unwelcome. “He doesn’t have to find out.” But, eventually, he will. This makes me smile.
His palm slides to my hip, his fingers gentle as he caresses me. “Not here in this hallway.” He lowers his lips to mine, and I almost choke on the scent of his cologne. “I will come for you tonight.”
I bat my lashes and widen my smile. “I can’t wait,” I lie. In reality, I’m afraid. Can I really handle this? Will it hurt?
He leans forward, grinding his erection into me, and captures my mouth with his. His mustache, coarse and prickly, scrapes against my upper lip as he kisses me. The kiss isn’t sweet and all-consuming like my first one moments ago. I’m being dominated. Fear claws at my chest, and I hold back a scream for Ven to come help me.
I can’t do that, though.
Father won’t believe me. Not without solid proof. Anton has been with him since before he even met my mother. They’re like brothers. I need to kill two birds with one stone—keep him away from my sister and find a way to bring him down with all this.
His tongue dives into my mouth, choking me, and I grip his biceps. I couldn’t push him away now if I tried. I’m shocked at how strong he is. As he kisses me, hard and punishing, his palms grope at my flesh through my dress. When one slides under to squeeze my ass through my panties, I let out a whimper.
He pulls away and stares at me, heat flaming in his eyes. “I like that sound,” he muses aloud. “Have you fucked the oldest Vetrov?”
I blink in shock at his bitter question. “N-No. I’m a virgin.”
His smile is dark and devious as he grips my ass hard enough to make me cry out. “Not for long, little Diana.” He gestures to my bedroom. “I’ll come after midnight.”
And with that, the demon stalks away without a backward glance.
Too late to turn back now.
I blink away the memory as pain tugs at my heartstrings. Of all the good memories, why do I have to think about the first time? How he slipped into my room as promised. Stripped me down and climbed on top of me. His body was so big and hard. I cried silent tears in the dark, fearful of what was to come. He pressed his lips all over my body in places I’d never been touched before. And then he pushed his thickness inside me. He had to hold my mouth to stifle my scream as he tore me apart. I’d sobbed uncontrollably, ripping away at the flesh of his shoulders as he slowly and brutally took me. When it was all over, he pulled out and shot his fluids over my stomach, soiling me, spoiling my unblemished skin, and stealing my innocence from me. I was told to get on birth control and that he’d be back. As I cleaned the blood off my thighs later and stared at my empty eyes in the mirror, I knew I’d lost a part of myself, but I’d won this game in the process.
It was a game, after all.
Anton was a pawn.
A stupid fucking pawn.
After that night, I welcomed him into my bed. Each night became easier than the first. Then, after several months of us screwing under my father’s roof, I fell under a spell, an illusion that it was normal, love… One day, I stopped plotting his death and started pleading for his touches. His mouth. His fingers. His knowledge of my form. He expertly played my body. All it took was three words from his lips to change the game I’d been playing.
I love you.
A single tear slips from the corner of my eye and wets the bed below. I’d love a hot shower right about now, but I can barely move. Ven has come in to check on me a few times, but we haven’t spoken. If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be in his father’s bed against my will, making little heirs for the Vetrov name. I owe Ven for stepping in and protecting me. So often, he’s done that.
Guilt sluices through me.
Ven is an ally here. I need to start treating him like one. I need to get my head out of my ass and go back to being the calculating player I am. I may have lost Ven as mine that day when I offered myself to Anton, but he’s never been too far away. Girlfriends have come and gone for him. I’ve seen the whores he’s had draped on his arms. I’ve heard of his sexual depravities and indiscretions with maids. But that man is not the one I know. Not the one who kissed me in the hallway all those years ago.
I need to find him again, and we need to go back to our original plan—one we’d only joked about in passing.
Play a better game than our fathers.
Work harder and smarter. Beat them. Win.
Press stop, rewind, and go back to those innocent youngsters wanting more than what was destined for us.
When the bone breaks, it grows back stronger, and th
e heart will do the same. I’ll do the same.
This stay in the Vetrov home is a setback, but maybe I needed the time to regroup and think. Without having to worry about Irina every moment of every day, I can begin launching a new plan. One that has me, and possibly Ven, near the top. Yegor and Yuri and my father and Vlad—they can all go fuck themselves.
I am Diana Volkov.
My vines are thorny and tangled and never-ending.
I’ll suffocate them all. Watch them bleed in my grip.
A beautiful, delicate rose on the surface, but a vicious monster underneath.
Not killable.
Ruthless.
I’ll spread like a disease and infect them all.
The game has just begun.
For the first time in a week since I arrived, I drag myself out of bed. Ven mentioned there would be a family dinner, and I’ll be damned if I miss it. I need for Yegor to see I’m not a broken-down woman. I am a storm coming, and he better batten down the freaking hatches.
I’m pleased to find dresses to my liking in the closet. I remember a maid just yesterday delivering them. She told me they were compliments of Ven. I definitely owe him for this. Next moment we get, I’m going to sit him down and apologize. Again. But this time, I’ll make sure he feels it. I want to assure him I’m not some fragile woman. He can rely on me. We can be partners. Together, we can formulate a plan.
I choose a simple black, long-sleeved, floor-length dress from the hanger. I’m shocked to find an embroidered peregrine falcon adorned with gems emblazoned across the front. The neckline dips low and daring, but it accentuates the bird. My family crest. A reminder.
I am not weak.
“Thank you, Ven,” I say under my breath with the first smile on my lips in nearly a week.
I select some black lacy panties from the drawer—another gift from my new and gracious host—and forgo a bra. The dress is too daring with the dip that goes halfway down my torso, past the bottoms of my breasts. You’d be able to see the bra, and that won’t do. I toss the dress onto the bed along with the panties and take my first hot shower since I’ve been here. Expensive toiletries line the bathroom shelves, and I help myself to as many as I can. It isn’t until I’m dried, made up, and hair flat ironed straight that I feel like the old Diana. The power player. The queen of these games.
