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My body tensed, and a fire sparked in my chest, unwantedly thinking back to that fateful day.
“You killed my mother, didn’t you?”
Smack!The handprint burned into my cheek as I was backhanded so hard I fell to the ground, hitting my head on the concrete. My vision blurred and head pounded. I tried to stand up, but hands were at my shoulders, gripping me like clamps. Keeping me restrained. Held down. Then I heard his sinister voice above me. “Hold him still. We’re going to teach this little shit a lesson he’ll never forget.”
The fire burned brighter than the memory of my singed skin, and her touch seared the scars a little more. Her ability to seek my truths was unnerving. Yet the need to tell her raged inside. “The man who branded me was a pissant drug dealer who supplied my mother with the shittiest opioids in the city.” My lips tightened in ironic amusement, with the past still fresh on my mind. I realized her fingers caressed my skin as if she were trying to soothe the ache and umbrage embedded in the flesh.
Not able to stop myself, I leaned into her touch. Something sick inside me bloomed as I turned, seeking her comfort in a way that would never be considered brotherly, ghosting my mouth over her palm. “But I got my revenge,zaychik. I branded his dick and set him on fire. He burned to death.”
She inhaled sharply, and her hand trembled against my lips, but she didn’t make a move to remove it. I thought I’d frightened her with my admission, or she would be disgusted at the very least. Maybe she was and hid it. Maybe she thought I said it for shock value, although it was the truth. Maybe I didn’t fucking care. All these crazy thoughts swirled through my head when I felt her slowly bow her head and nuzzle her face into my chest. “He deserved it,” she whispered against my heart.
Her words crawled up my skin like a poisonous vine entwining around my skin, drawing me in. Her body was soft and warm in my arms, offering the sweetest temptation. If we stayed like this much longer, I would take liberties that weren’t mine to take. I thought I knew my limitations, but she was proving me wrong. The realization was sinking in more and more with each interlude between us. This could not happen.
So, with the last remnants of my sanity, I shrugged off her touch and dropped her to her feet, ignoring her look of surprise. Then, I walked away. As I did, I saw Artynom appear in the door. He paused and surveyed the room as if he knew something was off. His only tell was the slight narrowing of his eyes behind his glasses; it seemed he was piecing a puzzle together.
“Did you need something?” I asked, because as long as we’d lived here, he’d barely stepped foot in this area.
He peered over my shoulder at Sorina behind me and I had to will myself not to crane my head in her direction. Because if I did, I feared what I would see. His face softened when he studied her. Artynom was a kind man who’d raised me like his own, but there was something in the way he treated Sorina. It was different. He was much more affectionate and gentle with her. Arty was never unkind to me, but there was always an air of reservation between us. However, with her, it seemed he held her on some kind of unattainable pedestal.
“I wanted to remind you one of my business associates will be dining with us tonight at six this evening. I expect you to be cleaned up and ready.” He directed his comment at me.
“I will be there not a moment later than five fifty-nine, Father.”
He nodded curtly and turned his attention to her, I presumed, because he smiled and said, “Sorina, I bought you a gift today, and you will wear it tonight, yes?” I ground my teeth together and walked out of the room before I could hear any more of their conversation.
It was late. The house was silent. Hours had passed since we had our little dinner party. Everything was cozy and perfect, exactly as Artynom planned. He was able to secure whatever shares he was offered in some start-up company that promised to be the next big thing. I wasn’t exactly paying attention, although I pretended I was. I was too preoccupied with what Sorina had said earlier.He deserved it.
Unfortunately, I was too preoccupied with her in general. Arty’s special present for her was apparently a black mini dress that probably came right off the runway in Milan. Her hair cascaded around her in loose curls, and she wore more makeup than usual. Sorina had a natural beauty and didn’t need it. She looked more grown up than she was. I didn’t like it.
I caught our “guest” glancing at her far more times than he should have. Sometimes his eyes lingered too long on her cleavage, exposed by the V of her dress. By most people’s standards, it wasn’t much, but with her, it pushed boundaries. I clenched my fingers over the handle of the steak knife, wanting to stab this asshole. Let him know she was seventeen, while he was probably pushing forty-five, but I kept myself in check. Disagreements at the dinner table were frowned upon, and God forbid I taint this soiree, although my hands itched to kill this jackass who leered at Sorina like a creeper. In the end, he would never press because he would be a dead man. I’d make certain of it.
Our conversations were polite, perfunctory, just like we were schooled to do whenever we had special guests. However, I noticed Arty seemed to indulge in more alcohol than he normally did. It wasn’t noticeable unless you truly knew him. He was somewhat more talkative than normal and was reminiscing about his past while living in Russia. Regaling us with stories of how he had a humble beginning but pulled himself up by the bootstraps and worked his way up the ladder to eventually take over a business empire. He was boasting. Artynom Popov never bragged about himself; he was always far too modest for that, unless he was under the influence.
After a few hours of enduring uncomfortable conversation, Sorina rose from her seat and kissed Arty on the cheek, saying goodnight to all of us. He relented and watched her walk away with unabashed fondness. Another tell he was inebriated—he was always polite, but never portrayed his emotions in mixed company. After a few minutes of boring conversation, I dismissed myself, too.
Sleep was difficult to come by, hence why I was downstairs in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and contemplating mind-fuck topics like family dynamics and life after high school. I was one month shy of graduating. I already had a full ride to Hillside University on a football scholarship. Not to say I wasn’t excited. I was.
However, lately, I’d been thinking about what would happen to Sorina. She had one more year of high school. It was a stupid thought, but I wondered how she’d fare without me around. The world was full of wolves in sheep’s clothing, and it was only a matter of time before someone charmed their way into her life. She was too sweet beneath that sass and too damn irresistible for her own good. That thought made me want to rip this town apart and destroy anyone who came near her.
I needed to shut off my brain where she was concerned. When I reached the foot of the stairs, I noticed a ray of light illuminating the hallway from my father’s office. It wasn’t unusual for him to stay up late, burning the midnight oil, because he was a very driven man. However, considering how much he drank tonight, I highly doubted he was making sensible decisions or being productive. Out of concern, I followed the light. When I pushed through the door that was slightly cracked open, I paused, taking in the scene.
Arty was slumped in his oversized, black leather chair. His blondish, gray hair stood up in places where he’d apparently run his hands through it too many times to count. His eyes were bleary and red with a slight droop of his lids as he seemed to focus on something lying on his desk. I should’ve announced my presence but didn’t. I expected him to see me as I closed in the space between us, but he didn’t.
He dropped his head on his arm, and his shoulders shook, and small whimpers were muffled into the sleeve of his dress shirt. His glasses were splayed haphazardly next to his hand and half-filled drink. When I saw what his hand was tracing, I felt a tenseness clutch my chest. Then I scanned the rest of the contents on the desk. There were pictures splayed all around of a girl who looked very much like Sorina. Jesus, a sudden mixture of disgust and disbelief twisted my stomach.
Then, he mumbled, “How could you do this to me?” He raised his head, and his eyes rose in some kind of sobering awareness. “Dmitri, what are you doing here?” He clumsily reached for the pictures, obviously trying to hide them.
“I saw the light on. What’s going on?” I forced the words out calmly and pointed at the evidence in his hands. “Should I be concerned? Should I be concerned that you were obsessing over photos of a girl who looks very much like your legal guardian?”
“You are wrong.” He ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily.
“Then, I suggest you enlighten me.”
“These are pictures of Irina, Sorina’s mother. I knew her.”
“You knew her.”
“I loved her.”
