by Raven Scott
My brows rose, a harsh bark of laughter squeezing from between my clenched teeth. Tapping the speed dial button just to be safe, I tightened my grip on my fishing pole. Anxiety gushed through my veins, replacing my blood.
Lyov then stormed across the office. He exuded rage and hurt, his eyes bulging from the stuff that leaked from his ears.
“If you don’t want to be babied, don’t act like a baby. I’m not here to coddle you or be your friend. You’re here to do a job, Lyov. If you can’t even monitor me while I uncover my family’s gnarly secrets because you’re too busy crying over what I said, go back to Saint Petersburg.” Honestly, I didn’t know if Aleksander would bother picking up the phone. I could hope, though. If Lyov did anything to me, Aleksander would really have to replace me; it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to do. Definitely, keeping me was the easier option.
Standing chest to chest with me, Lyov practically breathed fire through his nose. His clenched teeth ground loudly enough that I heard it clearly. There was no denying he was upset, but it was why that was so incredibly unbelievable. Not only did Lyov get angry about being called out, but he just ignored his whole part in the ordeal.
As if he hadn’t walked my chair away from me.
As if he didn’t insult me first.
“Unless you want to get slapped, back away from me, Lyov Makovich.”
His pupils became almost nonexistent, as Lyov finally seemed to reach his breaking point. His arm that trembled so violently lifted out of the corner of my eye.
My heart nearly stopped. The tension thickening to the point that it filled my lungs.
In slow motion, he reared back his arm.
Now, the fine hairs on my face stood up.
So faintly, the click of a gun being cocked, cut through the atmosphere.
Lyov froze, his face going pale with shock.
My lips parted in surprise.
“Ophelia Cherinivsky is right. You’re done here, Lyov. Go back to Saint Petersburg, you incompetent fucking dog.” The feminine voice wrapped around us thickly.
Very, very slowly, Lyov lowered his arm, all the emotion training from his expression…his body deflating to give way to its owner.
She was pretty, with just enough makeup and a fair face.
Lyov sluggishly shuffled away, more pitiful than he was before.
A pang struck my chest, and I winced before the metallic glint of a gun got my attention.
“Nice to finally meet you, Ophelia. I’m Malda and it’s a damned good thing I bugged your phone, and that I was already on my way.”
10
Ophelia
Malda then shrugged. “I’m not staying. I’m here to document what you’ve discovered about the plot to kill the Patriarch? I never understood why we’re supposed to call him that…he’s just a withered, old man now. Rumor is that he was once more intimidating than Aleksander, but I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“Thank you and all, but I almost wished he’d hit me so I had a reason to hit back. My dad always said you have to be stupid to hit first without intending to knock out.” Inhaling deeply through flared nostrils, I finally moved from my spot. Every hair on my body stood up, my knees wobbling as they carried me to a small sofa against the wall. “So, why were you coming here in the first place?”
If Malda thought less of me, it didn’t show on her face. “Lyov can’t do something as simple as a check in, so I was sent to find out what’s up. You’ve been here all day, right? I assume you found some juicy stuff you want to gossip about?”
A slight smirk stretched my lips at this as I nodded firmly.
She smiled. “Wanna get a head start on that bottle stashed in here somewhere?”
“The bookshelf.” Pointing absently across the office, I covered my face with my hands and flopped back to groan loudly. “I’m tired of this day. I’m tired of the drama. My head hurts…wah, wah, wah.”
“I know Sascha told you about me. I just wanna say that I don’t listen to anything unless you make a call or are in a curious situation. I’m not creeping on you two or anything. Honestly, I’m jealous of you.”
My head snapped up at this.
Malda was glancing at me over her shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone. I’m supposed to be a professional.”
“Why would you be jealous? Truly, it sucks, dragging Sascha into this drama. I feel so guilty all the time,” grumbling the confession, I pulled my knees to my chest to close my eyes.
Malda made a noise of acknowledgment as she hunted through my dad’s bookshelf.
I shook my head. “Is Lyov like that all the time? I know I was a little harsh on purpose, but…”
“Yeah. I jumped at the chance to follow your boyfriend around just to get away from him. Usually, I’m Lyov’s bodyguard. I think I’m much more suited to recon, though.” Interest sparked in my brain.
Malda gave a faint ‘hah’ before whipping around. The quarter—empty bottle of whiskey in her hand sloshed faintly, the amber liquid mesmerizing. Practically sashaying over to me. “So, why’d Lyov tell you that you were gonna die? Or was he just being an annoying idiot?”
Damn, she seemed so nice, personable and relatable, I got the nagging feeling we could be friends if I ever made the mistake of trusting her. “Apparently, there was a whole plan to kill off all the Makovich’s. It read like the plot to a bad thriller, to be honest. I printed it out.” Pointing at the desk, I took the bottle she offered, but sourness coated my tongue. Whiskey…I really didn’t like the stuff. Malda just offered, and I accepted because… I didn’t know why, really. Laying down on my side, I set the bottle on the floor. “It looks like my mom and brother were in charge of all the planning. Which explains why their whole plan is laid out in bullet points.”
She shot me a perfectly manicured, arched brow. “I-I— are you serious? She put it in writing?” Malda crossed the short distance to snatch up all the papers I’d printed, a hard, disbelieving laugh filling the room. Leafing through, her bemused expression grew more exaggerated.
Embarrassment that I was related to such stupid people rushed through my veins. My parents weren’t the brightest, but… come on.
“Wow! You’re right. This does read like a bad thriller. She even inserted the screams in italics… there’s a pie chart—“
“They were going to do it in stages apparently, because they couldn’t get enough people without being noticed to kill all the Makovich’s all at once. That’s mostly all I found, though. The rest was just stupid emails to my dad’s mistresses.” That wasn’t so surprising to me, as it was well known my dad was unfaithful. My skin crawled in disgust, and I wrapped my arms around myself. “It’s more embarrassing than anything. If they was going to kill the Makovich’s, it should’ve happened when they were mostly in Saint Petersburg a few weeks ago. There’s no mention of that guy in America, either... I forget his name—“
“Nik. Yeah.” Malda sat on the edge of the desk. “You should be embarrassed. You know, I’m not supposed to tell you this, Ophelia, but…” Lifting her eyes from the large sheath in her arms, Malda frowned. The twinkle in her eye died a little.
Curiosity rampaged through me as I mimicked her.
“The other families aren’t as welloff as you right now. I think Aleksander has a soft spot for you, considering he left you here in Moscow and took everyone else to Saint Petersburg. If you want, I can whisper in the old man’s ear about Aleksander’s ultimatum.”
“… I appreciate that, Malda, but if I let you do that, I’d have to admit I’m worried about it.” My throat tightened as the gates opened to that one thing I didn’t want to think about.
She smiled sadly, sympathetic.
I pursed my lips thinly before parting them to speak, “Aleksander’s ultimatum relies on me not being useful. At the time, I was too upset, but this has always been my life. I’ve never run away from it when that would’ve been easy. So, it’d be dumb to run away now since it’s almost impossible to do so successfully.
”
“At the time was two days ago, Ophelia. It’s okay to be sad that your family is dead. You don’t have to bury it with them because you’re ashamed they did something so stupid.”
Inhaling deeply through flared nostrils, I pushed myself up to sit.
Malda set her armful down to wander over, pulling her hair over her shoulder. Tall and slender, her body wrapped in a power suit that made her look majestic, for lack of a better term. “I know we’re not friends or anything, and you probably shouldn’t trust me, but Makovich killed my family too, so I know better than most what it’s like to work for them after.”
“… I never felt like they were my family.” My deepest, darkest secret came spewing out of my mouth as my shoulders slumped. Sitting next to me, Malda disappeared as I closed my eyes to hold my head in my hands. “That bothers me more than them actually being dead. I called them my parents, but ever since I can remember… I just wanted to get away from them. I moved out when I was 18 and not because of Sascha. I’d been planning it for a long time.”
“Why didn’t you when you were 16?” she asked.
I shrugged lightly, running my fingers up into my hair. Reaching back into my memory, I clicked my teeth lightly behind sealed lips. My mom favored Martin, my brother, to Hell and back, but she never let her grip on me slack. At 15, I knew a few things; I had to finish school. I hadn’t yet grown comfortable with the fact that I was cleaning up adult messes. “There were a lot of practical reasons to wait. But mostly, I liked hearing my parents argue about screwing things up, and then them tentatively coming to ask me what to do to fix it. Until I was able to manage that on my own, I wanted to stick around.”
Malda chuffed a small laugh at my revelation.
I cracked open my eyes to give her a sidelong glance. “I’m not a very emotional person but listening to that always made me smile. It made me feel wanted. It made me feel like I could do something Martin couldn’t. While he was out being a boy, I was learning to be successful. And now… I’m alive, and he’s not. It’s honestly not surprising that he got roped in with delusions of grandeur. Even if they managed to kill off Vyachaslav and by some miracle, Aleksander as well, the internal feud that would erupt as a result… I don’t think anyone planned on their coup actually succeeding.”
“Business talk, now…you’re right, Ophelia. You’re successful at what you do, which is why I need to ask… do you think there’s a reason this assassination attempt was so incredibly convoluted?”
My mouth dried at that probe and I nodded hesitantly.
Malda’s expression transformed to seriousness, her mouth thinning as she fought a frown. “I’m not the only one following the families. My associate says that Erik Avernisk is acting a little too contrite. It’s not going to affect you, I don’t think, but with him, anything is possible. He’s smart and what’s worse, is he knows it.”
“To be honest, I thought the same thing.” I nodded. “If Avernisk was going to stage a rebellion, why not want to be sure it succeeds? Next month, I’m meeting with some people from Ukraine… We’ll see what happens between now and then. Erik and I went to school together and stuff, but I know him way better than he thinks. There’s a reason we dated in secondary.”
Her jaw nearly dropped into her lap, and Malda threw back her head to cackle hysterically.
Grabbing the bottle off the floor, I twisted the cap with a short sigh. “We could be friends.” I held out the bottle, cutting off her laughter scarily fast. Anxiety curdled my blood as I held my breath.
Malda stared at me through narrowed eyes. Slowly, she reached for the glass neck, her hair brushing mine just the slightest. “Let’s be friends.” Taking my offering, her eyes never left mine even as she knocked back a huge swig.
There’s a lot we can offer each other, I think.
I could see the thought passing behind her shrewd, brown eyes.
Lifting the lip of the bottle to my lips, I nodded slightly myself.
11
Ophelia
Twirling my little, blue fishing pole, I leaned back against the island in the kitchen to stare at a speck in the grout between the tiles. Malda had left, taking the large file I’d prepared with her. I wasn’t sure how long ago that was, though, the small sip of whiskey I’d drank made me feel… funny.
“Things are getting too interesting for my liking.” To say I was worried wasn’t right, but this dread filling my gut wasn’t very nice at all. My murmur was too loud in such an empty space, bouncing off the tiled floor to hit my chin. Tearing my gaze off its spot, I glanced around as a sigh built in my chest. There was so much money surrounding me; I had to find a construction company that could salvage as much as possible.
I hated this house; I hated everything it represented. The loneliness, the favoritism, the power— a worse drug than anything that could be injected. My brother and parents really thought this made them immune to the realities of life. How disgusting.
Everything about this house was disgusting.
If I reached deep, deep down inside me, I was glad my brother and parents were out of the picture permanently. I could finally have what I wanted a somewhat normal life with a normal man that I loved with everything I have. Even if outside forces swirled out of control every once and a while we, Sascha and I, would be each other’s rocks.
Guilt clawed at my throat at this notion and I touched my cheek with the backs of my fingers. Every obstacle we’d been thrown was because of me. Malda stalking us was because of me. Sascha worrying about what he knew was because I couldn’t stop myself from telling him. Even those wonderful ways he worried about me…why should he have to?
This life of intrigue and danger could be goo ‒ for me ‒ not for him.
“Without Sascha… I’d be all alone.” My parents were dead. My brother was dead. My sisters were being held hostage. Yet, here I was, not worrying about anything. I felt relieved that such terrible things had happened to my family. I felt happy they were out of my way. Finally, I could be the person they’d been holding back all these years. “What kind of person does that make me?”
But there was no one around to answer my question. The maids that cleaned, the butler that served my parents, everyone was gone. Those who could, disappeared into the woodwork like cockroaches and would appear somewhere else, none the worse for wear.
I would still be here.
A soft thunk drew me out of my inner mind, and my eyes swung to one of the three entrances to the kitchen.
Sascha shuffled through the archway, a paper bag on his arm and another, smaller, slender one in his hand.
I was instantly struck, watching him look around in slight curiosity.
He was so damn handsome, with his grey wisps at his temple and his beard. The wrinkles around his eyes deepened before meeting mine to soften and grow bright. “You okay?”
Sascha’s deep timber wrapped around me so warmly, as goosebumps washed my arms and across my chest.
Setting the bags on the closest, flat space, he strode across the kitchen. Are you tipsy, Oppie?”
My heart pounded harder with every step, my hands itching to grab his face and kiss him. “A little—“ Sucking in a breath, I wiggled my lips.
Sascha arched a brow quizzically.
“If you want to break up, I wouldn’t blame you?” Wait a minute— that’s not supposed to be a question. I almost winced at how dumb I sounded. At least, I wasn’t slurring, or it’d be really bad.
Sascha full on frowned at me, his palms gliding around my waist to leave a path of heat behind.
My breasts tightened against my shirt, and I bit down on my bottom lip as I ducked my head. The drumming in my ears began to roar like an angry ocean, blocking out his questioning silence.
“Hey…” Cupping my chin, Sascha dragged my eyes back to his.
Those dark orbs sparkled so brilliantly that it was hard to look at them, but I couldn’t find the strength to not.
“I knew— we knew that things would get
tough eventually, Oppie. Yours isn’t the only life on the life.”
My heart melted at Sascha’s assurance, the heat pumping furiously up to my face. Drawing his lips to mine, I kissed him with all the beautiful emotion I could muster. His palm felt so hot—so hot it threatened to melt my cheek before sliding to the back of my head.
Opening my mouth for his sweet invasion, my mouth watered long before his tongue tangled around mine. Reaching to fumble with my jeans, I kicked off my sneakers with weak kicks. Flames engulfed my body, boiling my blood and making me shake as Sascha slung his arm around my waist. My fingers trembled attacking his shirt buttons, and a moan lodged in my throat when he hoisted me onto the island.
Tearing my mouth from his to pant hotly, I hissed when Sascha tugged my pants off. The thin fabric of his shirt fell away, and my palms roamed the thick hairs on his chest.
Capturing my lips fiercely, he rolled my own shirt up as his fluttered off completely.
I needed him. I needed Sascha… but I didn’t deserve him. He didn’t deserve this horror I put him through. My eyes ached, but I couldn’t stop.
His hands slipped between us. Rubbing me outside my panties, Sascha undid his dress pants’ fastenings with deft, sharp movements.
Throbbing with need for him, I flung my arms around his neck to draw him closer. This intense desire for him rampaged through me, and his grunt lodged my throat. His tongue claimed mine, the taste of my him sending my mind into a dense cloud of soft pink.
“Fuck—“ Sascha trailed fire down my jaw and neck, and my knees clung to his sides. The smell of him coated my lungs, blocking out the scent of whatever he’d bought for dinner. Pushing my underwear to the side, his long, pen calloused fingers spread my folds. A surge of cool air shocked me, rattling up my spine while he lavished my neck. His heat scorched me, engulfing us both in this primitive moment until I couldn’t find my way back to reality.