Mike’s little face slowly materializes in front of me. Young, sweet, and full of tears.
“Mishka, what’s wrong?” I ask, my voice breaking.
“Help me, Sasha,” he whispers. “Help us…”
I reach out a hand. “Slow down. Breathe. Can you tell me what’s wrong?”
The moment I touch him, he falls to the ground, and blood explodes from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
The gruesome scene from four years ago slowly comes into focus. Mike’s body lies in the middle of all the others.
Blood pools beneath them, and the corpses become identifiable one by one. My father, my mother, my cousins, my uncle, and even my brother.
Anton lies on his side, bleeding from all his orifices like Mike. Uncle Albert walks in the middle of all the blood, expression downward and tears streaming down his cheeks.
I call his name, but no words come out. Not even a sound or a cry.
His eyes meet mine, blood tears soaking them. “Are you happy, Sasha?”
I shake my head over and over. We can’t be happy. I’m not allowed to be happy when everyone is buried six feet under.
And then my uncle falls down, joining everyone else on the ground, bleeding from all their orifices.
The blood pool gets deeper and colder, but I run in their direction.
I lose my footing and fall straight into the pool. “Nooo.”
White light blinds out all the red, and I startle into a sitting position. That’s when I realize I’m in a bed.
For a second, just a fraction of time, I think I’m back at home. I only had a nightmare, and Mama just woke me up because I’m going to be late for school.
But this is not home. And the nightmare wasn’t completely inaccurate.
“It’s ten in the morning.”
My head whips in the direction of the feminine voice. Anna. She’s the one who pulled the blinds, revealing the huge tree near the balcony, and is staring at me with those judgmental eyes that have never trusted me.
Her gaze bounces between me and the bed—Kirill’s bed.
Shit.
Memories from the sauna slowly come to focus, and heat rises to my cheeks and ears.
Holy hell.
What on earth have I done?
I stop myself from thinking about that, or more accurately, Anna’s unwavering attention forces me to.
She’s watching me as if I’m the greatest threat to this family or something.
I’m thankful Kirill actually dressed me in a shirt and sweatpants. But there’s one tiny fact that I can’t change.
Me in Kirill’s bed.
What must she think of me?
“Uh, I…” I scramble from the bed, wincing at the ache between my legs, but I wrap the blanket around me. I’m not naked, but I don’t have my chest bandages on either.
Anna stands in place like a dictatorial headmaster who’s a fan of dishing out punishments.
“I wasn’t feeling well, so Boss must’ve…uh, carried me here.” I sound like a fucking idiot.
The small woman’s expression doesn’t change. Whether in affirmation or the opposite. She’s like a statue whose sole purpose is to judge me.
“I…I’m going to take a shower.”
“Eat first.” She motions at a tray that’s overloaded with food. “Kirill told me to prepare him breakfast, and only after I brought it here did he mention that I have to make sure you eat.”
Oh.
That must be why it looks like one of those luxurious breakfasts. Kirill must’ve known that she wouldn’t have put any effort into the meal if it was for me, so he tricked her into thinking it was for him.
Honestly, manipulative should be that man’s middle name.
“Thanks,” I say.
She doesn’t reply, but nods instead.
“Do you know where Boss is?” I ask in my most amicable tone.
“You should be the one to know that, considering you’re the bodyguard.”
Ouch. Okay.
I sit on the couch and sigh. “Look, Anna. I don’t know why you hate me…”
“I don’t hate you. I just don’t trust you,” she says simply. “Kirill is the only person who’s able to lead this family, and to do that, he needs competent people by his side. Not people he has to save each and every time something happens.”
Ouch again.
I can’t even say anything in reply, because she’s right. I’m supposed to be saving Kirill’s life, not the other way around.
“I’ll tell him you ate your breakfast,” she says, then leaves the room.
I take a bite of toast and drink some orange juice, then wince when I shift in place. My pussy feels sore and achy, but for some reason, I’m desperate for more of the torture Kirill inflicted last night.
Once again, my cheeks heat.
I can’t believe I fainted.
But then again, it was too hot in that sauna. Add his touch, and it was impossible to keep up.
It also doesn’t help that I was overwhelmed with all the cryptic emotions that were going through me at the time. Even now, I can’t put a name to them.
Except that I…probably enjoyed it more than I should have.
Maybe that’s why I had that nightmare. Uncle Albert asked me if I was happy with the new life and setting I chose for myself.
It was also the second time Mike asked me for help, and I haven’t been there to answer his plea.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I manage to swallow the contents of my mouth before I stand, stumble on the blanket, then release it and go to check the text.
Something knots in my stomach when I don’t find Kirill’s name on the screen.
Viktor: You’re on the night shift at the club tonight. You have no orders until then.
I type.
Aleksander: Am I not needed at Boss’s side now?
I could’ve asked the man himself, but I’m too embarrassed to talk to him after what happened last night. Especially since he didn’t contact me first.
Viktor: No.
Aleksander: Do you know where he is?
Viktor: Nowhere you should concern yourself with.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Leave it to Viktor to be the most unhelpful person ever.
So I text my friend.
Aleksander: Morning, Maks!
The reply is immediate.
Maksim: Morning, Sash. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to the annex, but then I recalled you were on night duty. Was everything all right yesterday?
Aleksander: Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?
Maksim: Boss looked kind of angry or annoyed. I couldn’t tell for sure, and since he doesn’t look like that most of the time, I was worried something had happened.
Aleksander: Nothing happened. Just the usual, I guess.
I’m such an excellent liar in texts. Which can’t be said about real-life interactions, because I was so close to telling Anna everything if she so much as pressed me earlier.
Maksim: Thank God. It’s never good to be on Boss’s radar.
Tell me about it.
Aleksander: I know, right? Speaking of Boss, do you know where he is?
Maksim: He headed out with Viktor and Yuri last night and still hasn’t come back.
I grow taller, my breath catching.
They can’t be in danger, or else Viktor would’ve said something or called for backup. But for some reason, I still don’t feel good about this whole thing.
After mulling over the information, I walk into Kirill’s closet in search of something I can use as temporary chest bandages.
My jaw nearly hits the ground when I find my clothes in the corner—all my suits, shirts, and sweatpants. Not only that, but underneath them, there’s a duffel bag with my bandages inside them.
Why did he bring them here…?
Not coming up with a logical answer, I wrap a bandage around my chest and get into a suit.
Since this is the perfect chance to try and find something in Kirill’s belongings, I do the most logical thing for someone in my position—go through his closet. Ninety percent of his tailored suits are black, but they have different cuts.
The remaining ten percent are either navy blue or dark gray, but I’ve rarely seen him wear those.
He has drawers upon drawers of luxurious and special edition watches. Ten of the same set of black-framed glasses. Some sunglasses that he almost never wears. Italian shoes and leather belts, but that’s about it.
There are no personal items or anything that helps with my search.
I’m about to put a bag back on the top drawer, when a picture falls. I grab the frame and pause.
There’s no picture inside, just…a handkerchief with his first name embroidered in the corner.
My fingers tighten around the frame, and an alien feeling drops to the base of my stomach. Kirill is anything but a sentimental person. He’s methodical, practical, and manipulative to a fault.
Actually, he uses people’s emotions against them, so the fact that he kept a handkerchief, framed it even, goes against everything I know of him. This was obviously done by a girl. But who? An ex-lover?
“Sasha! Are you in here?”
Karina’s sudden voice nearly causes me to drop the handkerchief. I hastily put the frame back exactly where I found it and step out of the closet.
Karina stands in the middle of the room, wearing an ample tulle dress, its black color contrasting against her skin.
Her face has some makeup on it, and she’s let her shiny blonde hair fall to the middle of her back. She’s crossing her arms and tapping her Louboutin heels on the floor. “Where were you? I was calling you for the past ten minutes.”
“Oh, sorry.” I grab my phone from the nightstand. “I left it here.”
“Whatever. Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“To have breakfast in my room, of course.”
“I already had breakfast.”
“Then you can just accompany me. What’s so hard about that?”
“I’d love to, but I have work to do.” Or, more accurately, I have to try to find Kirill. While we do stay overnight at the club sometimes, I’m usually there, so I know he’s safe.
Now, I’m not sure. Even with Viktor and Yuri by his side.
Is it weird that I’m starting to genuinely care about his safety? But I’m only doing this because I can’t get information if he’s dead, considering he’s the only one who has access to what his father left behind.
…Right?
“Liar, liar. I know you have the day off and don’t have to work until this evening.”
“Well…”
“Nope, not hearing it. You’re coming with me.”
She all but drags me and tells me to carry the breakfast tray, too, because it’s apparently better than the one she got.
Her room is dark and gloomy, as usual. She has the candles lit and some dim lights on, though.
“It’s breakfast, Miss. We should maybe have it on the balcony.”
“I told you not to call me Miss. My name is Karina.” She blushes. “Or Kara if you want. And nope, there’s no way in hell we’re going outside.”
“The balcony is still attached to your room. It’s not exactly outside.”
“Still no. Nope. I’m not hearing you.”
“I won’t force you, but you look so beautiful today, and I thought the sunshine would make you look even better.”
“I…” She purses her lips and studies her perfectly manicured nails that she does herself, as she told me. “Okay, I guess. Just fifteen minutes, though!”
For a sheltered princess, she really is adorable. And Kirill is right, she’s neither violent nor messy. She’s just scared of the world and prefers her little cocoon.
I pull back the curtains before she changes her mind, and she physically winces at the light. I clean the chairs and the outside table and then place the tray on top of it.
Karina remains in the shadows of her room until I gently pull her out. She holds on to my hand with her sweaty ones and watches her surroundings like a trapped animal.
“The food is so good. Anna is definitely talented.” I bite with passion into the toast, trying to make her forget about where we are.
Her leg bounces on the floor, but when I offer her a cup of coffee with cream and sugar like she prefers it, Karina accepts it, her stance relaxing.
“Are the fifteen minutes over?”
“It’s only been three minutes, Miss…I mean, Karina.”
Her expression lights up, and she smiles. “You should totally become my guard, but that stingy Kirill was like, no,” she mimics his dispassionate tone.
“You asked him to make me your guard?”
“He didn’t even let me finish asking and flat out refused.”
I didn’t know that.
“But you don’t need a bodyguard, since, well, you’re always in your room.”
She purses her lips. “Of course I do. I can, like, try on clothes I order online, and you tell me what you think. I can do your nails and we’ll have meals together like this.”
That’s not really a bodyguard’s job, but I don’t tell her that.
Karina traces the rim of her cup and sighs. “We never had meals as a family, you know.”
“Why not?”
“Mama and Papa didn’t like each other, and they made it their mission that the three of us would be filled with hate, too.” She gulps a mouthful of coffee. “They made us compete against each other all the time.”
I lean over in my seat. “Compete how?”
“Kirill and Konstantin were at it way before I came along. At first, it was childish things like racing and grades, but then it was martial arts, shooting lessons, and how to perform under pressure.”
“Perform under pressure?”
The coffee cup shakes in her hand, some droplets falling all over the table. “Stupid psychological tests about mental endurance.”
“You…did that?”
“I had no choice! It was mandatory because Papa was an asshole.” Her eyes shine with tears. “I was thirteen, Konstantin was nineteen, and Kirill was twenty-one. We were dropped off on an isolated island and had to survive using whatever means necessary. I was glued to Kirill’s side, but I was taken by some scary masked men. Kirill came to save me, but there were too many of them. He was pushed down, beaten, burned, electrocuted, and I had to watch all the torture in real time. I was crying and screaming so loud, I fainted. Konstantin was the only one who passed that test since he found a boat and escaped. Kirill and I failed because we were supposed to be detached and act like Konstantin did. I never left my room after that. Whenever Mama or Papa forced me out, I would vomit, have a seizure, or faint, so they gave up and thought it was better to hide me from the world. A few years later, Kirill left me, too, and went to Russia.”
How…monstrous can a person be to do this to his own children? Karina isn’t this way because she’s mentally unwell. It was caused by trauma. That’s why she’s scared of being outside and is physically unable to handle the exterior world.
If that’s the most traumatic thing that happened to Karina, I wonder how many times Kirill was tested by his father to turn out the way he is.
If he was beaten, burned, and electrocuted at twenty-one, what else did his father do to him prior to that?
“I’m so sorry, Karina.”
She shakes her head and wipes the tears that have escaped from her eyes. “I already lost my parents a long time ago, but I thought I at least had Kirill. But he also left.”
“Is that why you tried to kill him the day he came back?”
She sniffles and glares in the distance. “I will still kill him.”
I smile. She absolutely doesn’t mean that. In fact, I think a part of her is scared he’ll leave again.
“If I kill him, you can be my guard!” She claps her hands as if she’s come up with the most genius plan.
“I’ll be your guard without that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, but as I said, you have to go out first.”
“No, thanks.”
“We can just start with the balcony like this.”
“Just the balcony?” she asks with innocent eyes.
“Just the balcony is fine.”
“I don’t hate the balcony.”
“I’m glad you don’t.”
“Thanks, Sasha.” She smiles.
“For what?”
“If you hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have known the balcony isn’t so bad.”
“Anytime.”
She slathers some jam on a piece of toast and offers it to me. “I can’t believe that Anna. She made Kirill’s plate so much better than mine. She’s always had favoritism issues.”
“She seems like she loves him, though.”
“That she does.” She stares off in the distance. “You know, she lost her son who was around the same age as Kirill due to drowning. Her life kinda went off the rails after that, and she was about to jump off a bridge. Viktor said he and Kirill were passing by when they saw her. Kirill caught her at the last second and told her if she had no use for her life, he could give her purpose. That was when he was, like, fifteen. He brought her back here, and neither Papa nor Mama liked her. Mama said he was picking up homeless people off the streets. But do you know how he forced them to accept her? He asked Papa for his prize after finishing one of his missions, and his prize was having and keeping Anna.”
Karina smiles broadly, looking awfully proud of a brother she often threatens to kill. I can’t help but mirror her smile. No wonder Anna is overprotective of Kirill. She must’ve raised him as her own son ever since he brought her here.
“We’re gonna have to steal Kirill’s breakfast every day!” she announces with determination. When she raises her cup of coffee, I clink mine against it.
Even though I want to go find Kirill, I take my time with the breakfast. Karina and I stay on the balcony for over an hour, and not once does she mention the fifteen-minute limit.
