Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“What’s that?” I cup my ear. “Want me to break your nose again, brother dearest?”
“This motherfucker—”
Lukas cuts him off by pulling his hand down, then smiles in that fake-ass way. “Now, now. No need to quarrel between brothers. We’re here to support Dad, not to humiliate him.”
He motions at our father, who’s talking with other leaders, but he throws glances at us—mostly glares, really—to remind us of his wrath.
“Move.” Alina drives her chair right between them, forcing them to break apart. “I’m gonna get ready, Yulik.”
“I’ll come along.”
“No, you’ll just steal my pastries.” She gives me a look. The look of “I want to do this on my own,” so I force myself to just nod.
“I’m sure you’ll kill it, Alya.”
She gives me two thumbs-up, grinning at me, then glares at Lukas and Mikailo before she leaves, navigating through the crowd with expert ease until she disappears behind the doors.
“Tell you what.” Lukas places an arm around my shoulders. “How about you go keep an eye on poor little Alyonushka, and we’ll take care of the grown-up issues around here?”
“I don’t think age matters, Lukas. You know…” I brush his hand off my shoulders. “Since Dad only ever introduced me as his heir to his acquaintances.”
Mikailo visibly tenses, his hands balling into fists.
“Careful there, brother,” Lukas says with a veiled threat. “He won’t protect you forever.”
“Bold of you to assume I want that old man around. I’d rather he be gone, if you know what I mean.”
Mikailo has grown red, more offended on our dear papa’s behalf than about any threats directed at him.
Lukas, however, raises a brow, a look of calculation passing behind his usually dead eyes. “Do you know what you’re saying?”
“Do you?”
I hold his gaze as Mikailo looks between us with a dumbfounded expression.
Not sure what Lukas is fishing for, but he’s definitely fishing for something. He seems to like my reaction to the possibility of Yaroslav’s erasure. I mean, surely, he didn’t think I’d want to be dear Papa’s punching bag for the rest of my life?
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go do the grown-up stuff.” I whistle, putting a hand in my pocket as I stroll away.
Fuck being Dad’s puppet.
He’s looking at me, expecting me to come over and put on a show of empty fucking pleasantries. These men would kill each other in their sleep if given the chance, so I don’t get why I need to put on the hypocritical facade.
I join him for a few, only because Alya will be the one fucked over if I misbehave. So I bring out the entertainer in me, laugh at an old man’s distasteful joke, then fight sleep when some idiot goes on a long, rampaging political rant.
Fuck, these people are boring.
My gaze strays ahead, and I pause when I see Vaughn’s parents dancing and smiling at each other.
Now, don’t get me wrong, Vaughn looks more like his father—the same hair, jaw shape, and nose—but he has his mother’s eyes.
In a way, he’s a mixture of both, and they brought him up well, probably giving him all the emotional support he needs, which allows him the liberty to be…normal.
Well, as normal as it gets, because Vaughn has an unhinged side he keeps under lock and key.
As I watch them with a tilted head, I realize I never saw my parents smile like that at each other, appearing to be in blissful harmony as if they complete one another.
My father is the most distant motherfucker to ever spawn, treating his wife and kids like accessories to his empire, and my mother, well, she tried her best, but no matter what she did, she couldn’t exactly change the original sin—having Dad for a husband.
It wasn’t her fault. She was pushed into a political marriage, where a woman was once again used for powerful men’s egos.
My grandfather was Kabardian nobility with a shit ton of money that my father needed to get his hands on, and since Dedushka had no male heirs, it made sense to entrust the power-hungry, ruthless Yaroslav with it.
From what I know, Vaughn’s mom also comes from Russian aristocracy, but it doesn’t seem that his dad used her for that purpose or that he treats her like a convenience. If anything, he looks at her like she’s his world.
Fuck this feeling.
Now, I’m wondering what I would’ve grown up to be like if I’d had parents like that. Not that it’d matter.
I’m stuck with this clown called Yaroslav for…well, until either Lukas or I take his life.
I can’t kill him when Alya is in his grasp, so if Lukas can hurry the fuck up, that would be great.
With a sigh, I drag my gaze away from Vaughn’s parents.
Speaking of Vaughn, I swear he was around not too long ago, but now he’s nowhere to be seen.