Page 5 of Essence of Fear

She was not exempt to the rule. If anything, she had been willing to pretend the bad parts of her father and the things about him that scared her the most hadn’t existed until she no longer had a choice but to face them head-on. By then … it was already too late.

She hadn’t been able to get out of the way when her father fell from his throne. So, she’d been crushed by the weight of his misdeeds, a lot like everyone else around her, too. Although … Viktoria, more so than others, if the way she felt meant anything at all. She wasn’t sure that it did.

Vadim gave her a look from the side, saying, “Chicago would be a far more comfortable place for you to be—especially with your brother taking over. I’m sure that extends you some grace and status. Why stay here longer than you have to?”

Maybe she wasn’t ready.

Maybe she hadn’t said the things she came to say quite yet.

She still wanted to love her father. She still wanted to adore him, even in his much-deserved exile from their family and life after all that he had done. He was her favorite, too.

“You know,” she said, “you asked about Konstantin and Kolya …”

“Mmm, my sons may hate me, but does that mean I have to hate them, Vik?”

Maybe.

Maybe not.

That wasn’t what she meant to ask.

“But you’ve yet to ask about her,” Viktoria said quieter. “Zoya Bennett, I mean.”

Vadim stiffened, but his expression didn’t flicker with even a hint of his emotion at her blatant, pointed statement. The other daughter he had—the one he’d hidden from them. The child she had never known about until the girl was practically grown, and even now … instead of embracing the young woman, Viktoria felt cold toward her. Like just her presence was enough to make Viktoria feel like her entire life with her father had been a lie.

My only girl. My printsessa. My favorite.

Maybe she was spoiled. Maybe she had an unhealthy adoration for her father, and that’s why this stung her so badly. Maybe it wasn’t Zoya or Vadim’s fault at all for her feelings, but rather … her own.

Zoya, the half-sister her father had decided to keep hidden and lie about, was just another piece of the puzzle. Viktoria didn’t see the girl—never said more than a couple of words to her when she did meet her. It wasn’t like the young woman had a problem with that, or so it seemed. Viktoria didn’t have room in her life for yet another person she was meant to care for, but didn’t feel like she could trust.

So, she stayed away from her half-sister.

She was still pissed at her father for lying to her for all these years, though. Although, if she were being honest, Zoya was just one piece of many. And not a piece that Viktoria cared to think about very often.

Why was she still here again?

Viktoria really didn’t know.

Vadim tucked one of her stray strands of straight, blonde hair behind her shoulder. A tender action for a man she knew had almost killed one of her brothers and tried again with her other. “I haven’t asked because there is nothing I need or want to ask about her.”

No, that really didn’t help.

Viktoria still felt cold.

“Sir, your lunch is ready to be served. Will you take it in the enclave again?”

At the sound of a man’s voice—unknown to her, despite her visit having lasted several days here at her father’s Russian estate—she stiffened all over. It was like in a second, she couldn’t breathe, her gaze tunneled and blackened at the edges, and her heart raced out of control. All it took was the voice of a man she didn’t know coming from behind her, and Viktoria felt two seconds away from passing out or throwing up.

Either one, or both, was likely. That was the thing about fear. There really was no controlling it. She wasn’t good at hiding it.

Vadim’s gaze darted to her, and then to the man wherever he stood at her back behind the bench seat. “In a moment, Anatoly.”

Footsteps receded.

Viktoria still wasn’t okay.

Her father knew it.