Chapter 11 #2
I was only partly lying. It was actually a very nice McMansion. Plenty of lighting. Lots of space. Expensive furniture. Floor-to-ceiling windows I knew were bulletproof. Grand, opulent chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Large spiral staircase leading up to the top levels.
Fucking bingo. There was my out.
I moved toward the stairs—
A hand on my shoulder halted me. “Where are you running off to, boy?” I barely managed to hold back a sneer at my grandfather’s touch. “We haven’t seen each other for years. Come. I’ve got food laid out in the kitchen for you. You said you were hungry, no?”
Well, fuck me sideways. I couldn’t exactly say, No, your presence disgusts me. I plastered on my fake smile and turned to face him. The look on his face told me I had no say in the matter. “Sure, Grandpappy. I’d love to.”
Father, Autumn, and Mr. Average were behind him.
“Excellent.” He stepped closer to me, keeping his hand on my shoulder. “Your father and Autumn may retire to their rooms. You are in the east wing,” he told them, gesturing with his hand to the left.
The intention was clear—they were not invited to dinner.
Father’s jaw clenched the slightest bit. He nodded. Taking Autumn’s hand, he led her through the large lounge room on the left. Four guards appeared as if out of thin air, following behind them.
Another tick for Father. He was right. Sergei was going to have him followed the entire time we were there.
Applying a bit of pressure to my shoulder, my grandfather signaled for me to go forward. “Let’s go.”
I sat across from Sergei at the dining table.
It was huge. Far too big for one person, but that was how my grandfather liked to do things—grand and over the top.
It was big enough to seat at least thirty people.
He sat at one end, and I sat all the way at the other.
The table was set, two tall candles in candle holders in the middle, and food laid out across the surface.
Mr. Average was there, too, for what reason, I had no idea. He was sitting to Sergei’s left, not touching any of the food. Neither was Grandfather.
Me, on the other hand? Yeah, I was eating that shit up. I wasn’t lying when I said I was hungry.
There was a plate in front of me, but I ignored it, opting to just grab things left and right and shove them into my mouth with no decorum. My phone sat on the table next to me, and I couldn’t help but glance at it every few minutes, eagerly waiting to get some sort of message from my stalker.
She’d been strangely quiet since my departure. I’d expected her to stop me, in all honesty, and I was a little disappointed she hadn’t. If not that, I at least wanted her to make some sort of communication expressing her unhappiness about the upcoming nuptials.
But…nothing.
Just radio silence.
It made me suspicious. What the hell is she planning?
“Your father has explained what is expected of you tomorrow?” Sergei asked.
I looked up, biting into a chicken drumstick. Delicious. “Mmhmm.” I spotted roasted potatoes, and my other arm shot out, fork in hand, and pierced one, bringing it to my lips. “Wait at the altar, say I do, and viola, you have your trade routes.”
Sergei’s lips thinned. “You seem unusually calm about the entire thing. You do not protest to the union?”
“Not really.” I dumped the chicken drumstick into a bowl of gravy and took another bite. “Why would I? Does she have a shitty personality or something?”
“I have not spoken with her, so I do not know.”
“Hmm. That’s disappointing. What’s he doing here?” I asked, pointing at Mr. Average with the fork in my other hand.
“I told you. He is—”
“A colleague. Right.”
“I see your manners have not improved over the years.” Sergei’s voice held a bitter tone, displaying his displeasure. “Do you need me to give you a lesson in respecting your elders?”
“No, thanks, I’m not twelve.”
My head was yanked back painfully, and suddenly, there was a knife right at my throat. I stared up into the face of one of Grandfather’s soldiers. His face was hard, eyes dead, devoid of any humanity.
“This disrespect will cease, or I will have you punished. Is that clear?” Grandfather said. I knew he was being serious. That I should probably be scared, and tread lightly from then on.
That just wasn’t me.
If I’d had any sense, I’d have rolled over and apologized. But let’s be honest, I had none.
My head still tilted back, knife at my throat, I reached up and bit into the chicken drumstick, holding it there.
Then, I grabbed the soldier’s wrist and twisted.
A crack hit the air, and he cried out in pain.
I was up in a flash, spinning around him while keeping his wrist locked in my grip, and then slammed him face down onto the table, his arm bent back behind him.
The knife was still in his hand. I plucked it out of his grasp and rammed it into the table right beside his head.
I flicked my hair out of my face and pulled the drumstick from my teeth, chewing softly. “Clear, Grandpappy.”
There was anger in my grandfather’s eyes for sure, but there was also a sliver of pride. Sergei loved strength. “Do not call me that. Release him and sit.”
“Okay.” The devil on my shoulder whispered something in my ear. I listened. I shoved the soldier’s arm up harshly, and another loud crack followed. He screamed. I let him go, and he crumbled to the floor, trying and failing to hold his broken shoulder.
I cleared my throat. “Excuse me. Let me just squeeze in here,” I said to the man crying on the floor as I tried to wedge myself between him and the chair. “Yep, that’s it, a little more to the side. Ah, thank you,” I blew out, sitting back down.
He continued to moan in pain, writhing on the floor. We all ignored him.
“So, what line of work are you in, Mr. Average?” I asked, reaching for more food.
Vernon frowned. He opened his mouth—
“It is of no concern to you, boy. Now, enough with the antics. Tomorrow is very important, and I will not have you ruin it all with this behavior. I am assuming your father told you what is at risk if this wedding does not go through?”
I stiffened.
Grandfather smiled. It was evil. Fucking sinister. “Ah, yes. He has. Make no mistake, Lukyan, I have no problem following through with it.”
I kept myself still, for fear that if I didn’t, I’d try to kill the fucker right there and then, all the guards in the house be fucking damned.
“I expect you to be on your best behavior. You will stand at that altar and do your duty as a Volkov, and that is it. There will be no scheming. No trying to weasel your way out of this. You’re bought and paid for, Lukyan.
Like a grand, prized show horse”—that old fucker—“and so long as you do as you’re told, Illayana will be safe.
” He picked up his knife and fork and slowly cut into the meat on his plate.
“Now, tell me, what does my son have planned?”
“Why would he have something planned? Have you done something to warrant him rebelling against you, Grandfather?” I asked casually.
Darkness washed over him. It was a risky move, calling him out like that, and in all honesty, I probably shouldn’t have done it. But he’d crossed the line, threatening Illayana like that. The bastard deserved it.
“Of course not,” he responded, taking a sip from his crystal glass. “But I know my son. He does not like to have his hand forced. So, save all the trouble his failed attempt will cause and just tell me what he has planned to stop this wedding.”
“Nothing.” I stuck my fork into a bowl of beef stroganoff and spun it slowly.
I had to make him believe there was nothing going on.
That we had nothing planned. That we weren’t trying to…
you know…kill him. “Do you really think Father would do anything to risk Illayana’s life?
She’s his favorite, you know.” I popped the food into my mouth, chewing lightly.
“I mean, I won’t lie. Father would definitely love to see your head on a stick, but he’d never do anything to endanger Illayana. You hold all the cards.”
The twinkle in his eyes told me he liked that. Sergei liked being told how good he was. That he was in charge. In control.
“I do, don’t I?”
Smug bastard.
“Business going well?” I asked, trying to keep a knowing smirk off my lips.
His body locked up. “Why would you ask that?” His voice was strained. Harsh. Worried.
My senses came to life like a shark recognizing blood in the water.
“Because I’m bored, and you don’t exactly have the most riveting and dazzling personality.
No offense.” Casual was my forte. I had a lifetime of practice in hiding my true intentions.
While on the outside, it looked like I hadn’t caught the subtle change that question brought forth in him, I had.
My attention turned to Mr. Average. He sat silently, eating his food at a slow, unhurried pace. He didn’t try to join in on the conversation or offer any comments. It was like he was a fly on the wall, just watching the events take place.
What is he doing there? What is his purpose? And why is he watching my grandfather so fucking closely?
Sergei’s body relaxed ever so slightly. “Business is business,” he replied briskly. He cleared his throat and wiped his lips with a napkin. “Everything is in place for tomorrow. The limo will be here at 9:00 a.m. to take you to the venue. Be waiting outside. Do not be late.”
That was a little surprising. Given how serious he’d been lately about ensuring the wedding went through without any problems, I expected him to be by my side, taking me there himself. The fact that he wouldn’t be meant that something else needed his attention. Something more important.
I nodded. “Yes, Grandfather.”
“Good.” He continued to talk, and I continued to pretend to listen, giving an odd, “Yes, sir,” or “No, sir,” or “Whatever you say, sir.”
Father was right. He laid the manipulation on thick, trying to confuse me and keep me off balance. He would act like a downright dickhead, and then change it up by trying to be my friend and asking about my life. What I liked to do. My favorite food. As if he really gave a shit.
Mr. Average didn’t speak once.