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“What is it? What’s going on? Why didn’t Maxim take me home?” Victoria darted over to her older sister, her hands grabbing at Camille’s arms. “Is it Papa? What’s wrong?”
Camille reached out, dislodging Victoria’s grip on her arms and tugged her into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Vicky. I-I didn’t mean to—”
When she broke off, I cut Forrest a look. He dipped his chin and faded away. By the time I heard the elevator ping its farewell, Camille still hadn’t explained what happened. Not that I could blame her, was, in fact, curious if she’d lie or tell her the truth about the role she’d played.
It’d be easier if she lied, but it wasn’t my place to direct her otherwise. Complications could arise if Victoria—
“Father’s dead, Victoria,” Camille rasped, her eyes clashing with mine once more over her sister’s head, and I watched the panic in her fade as she took comfort in me, prompting her to whisper, “W-We’re not safe at home anymore.”
“What about Svetlana?” That that was Victoria’s first question told me there was little to no love lost between father and daughter.
Unsurprising.
Because she’d had the chance to explain what had really happened, I decided to tell her the truth as Maxim had spun it in a text he’d sent me before I’d climbed into bed.
“Svetlana killed him, Victoria. She was having an affair with one of hisboyeviksand he found out about it, confronted her, and she defended herself.”
Victoria gasped, and twisted around to stare at me. “You can’t be serious! She killed him?”
That she focused on the murder and not the cheating was interesting, but I just cleared my throat. “Sadly, I am.” God could strike me down for that particular lie, and I wouldn’t complain.Sadly?My ass.
She whipped back around to look at Camille, who was still staring at me like I was a script she needed to read. “Who told you that?”
“Maxim.” I answered for her, then returned my attention to my breakfast. “Just as I told him our happy news.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Camille wince, before she clutched at Victoria’s hands and rasped, “You know Father and me didn’t see eye to eye…”
Vicky frowned, her youthful brow puckering even as her eyes remained clear. I thought it was likelier that she thought shehadto cry because her dad had just died and that was why she looked so torn.
I could have told her that tears only fell for those who deserved them... and that bastard of a father of hers didn’t deserve even a single one.
Still, it wasn’t my place, and I stayed quiet as Camille rasped, “I know the timing is terrible, Vicky, darling, but... I hope you’ll be there this afternoon when Brennan and I get married.”
“Wait, you’re getting married?Today?”
Camille shot me a weak smile. “We’ve been dating a while. Ever since I got back.” When I didn’t correct her lies, she grew a little braver. “We were going to do it in secret, but then... last night happened.” She blinked. “I was there when he accused her, Vicky. It was terrible. I saw it all.”
Her younger sister gasped. “You saw him die?”
Camille nodded, then wrapped her arms around Victoria again. “I did.”
Victoria allowed Camille to hug her for a short while, before she twisted back to glare at me. “What kind of man would let his fiancée be treated as badly as my father treated Cammie?” She tipped up her chin. “He was so mean to her. All the time. He called her names, and he was going to make her marry that creep.” She pointed her finger at me. “I don’t know if you deserve Camille, Brennan. Eoghan would never have let Father do what he’s done to Inessa.”
“No, he wouldn’t. He’d have broken both the bastard’s shoulders and his legs too.” My smile was tight. “But a man can only protect his woman from what he knows about.”
Camille winced, before she admitted, “I didn’t want him to know, Vicky. It was too embarrassing.”
I almost laughed when Victoria sighed and patted Camille on the shoulder as if that news didn’t come as much of a shock. Apparently, the eldest Vasov daughter was secretive... go figure. “Is it terrible that I’m glad he’s dead?”
Camille shook her head. “No. I am too.”
“It’s quite liberating, isn’t it?” was her reply, the words coming out in an embarrassed rush, to which Camille sighed.
“It is.”
“Where will I live?”
“Here. With Inessa.” She hitched a shoulder. “It’s your choice.”
