Chapter 17 Benedikt
Benedikt
I thought seven would be simple.
I’d taste some cupcakes, stare at her while she rambled on about whatever it is bakers take in lengths about. A moment where the world felt normal enough for me to pretend it could be.
I walk into my kitchen expecting Sienna and the millions of thoughts about having her again along my countertop. Her soft moans are something I still hear in my head, and I don’t want or expect those to go away any time soon.
I’m ready to let myself be distracted for twenty minutes or for however long Sienna needs me.
Instead, I find my fucking brother on my counter, like he’s always been a fixture in my home.
He swings his legs, a cheap blade playing between two fingers. He looks at me like he’s amused I’m surprised to see him. The men who let him in stand still, polite as hitmen waiting on orders.
That should have been my first hint.
The way none of them stiffened. My men are not allowed to admit defeat. Not in front of me.
Not like this.
“Evening, brother,” Nikolai says. His grin is all teeth, all mockery, and I’m going to knock every single one of them out. “Heard you were looking for me.”
I don’t move.
A pressured coldness sets in under my sternum. For a second, I imagine tackling him across the marble, hands at his throat and his blade in his neck.
But he’s not worth the theatrics.
Or the clean-up.
Plus, I don’t want Sienna walking into a bloody kitchen.
Since when do you care who the hell sees where you lay blood?
“Out,” I say quietly, making him laugh.
“Out where, Benedikt? The street? You think I’m really going to leave the empire father built? You should sit down. This might take a minute.”
This motherfucker…
I’d speak, but it’d fall on deaf ears. I’d warn him again, but he’s not going to listen.
Then there are some of my men in this room who won’t look at me.
That’s red flag number one.
And that’s their death sentence.
“Game’s over,” Nikolai conveys evenly. “I’d say it’d come as a shock to you, but I think we all knew how it’d end.”
I quirk a brow. “End?”
“With me at the head. The face. The heir, Benedikt, of the Volkov empire.”
Anger flares hot and fast through my veins, but I keep my face calm.
Fury is something I save for the right moments.
Uncontrolled anger is a weakness.
It’s why I’m still here, and he was rotting in a jail cell. For seven years, I carried that through every negotiation, every shipment, and every threat. I won by not letting my face betray me.
Now, daddy dearest wants to hand over his legacy to this stupid fuck after everything I’ve done for this family.
I can’t say I’m surprised.
I also can’t say I don’t have a plan B for something like this.
“Is that all?” I press, sounding bored as hell but plotting out my next move.
Nikolai’s face lifts, looking a bit flustered at how I haven’t thrown a toaster at him yet. “Did you hear what I said?”
“I heard,” I confirm. “However, I wouldn’t get too comfortable.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” my father’s voice strings through the space, prompting my attention toward the other entrance to my kitchen.
He’s in a gray suit, fitted perfectly to his decaying frame.
Old stupid fuck.
My father meets my eyes for a long beat. There is no warmth there, only the thin, cold thing of a man who has always calculated his family as he did assets and liabilities.
He doesn’t blink.
I’m out.
“You know why you’re here,” he says.
“I don’t,” I reply flatly. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Benedikt, you can not mess with the politicians in this town nor the police—”
“I own the police,” I leer through clenched teeth. “I can do what I please.”
“No, I own the police,” my father grinds back, obviously in denial. “You’re too aggressive. You’ve always been—” he waves a dismissive hand in the air. “—arrogant. I gave what I thought was best for the family. For the business. For a future that doesn’t implode.”
“Your eldest son went to prison for being a fucking moron. I think I’ve proven my worth here.”
“You have.” Our father steps forward, examining my kitchen like it needs his approval. “But it won’t be here.”
The words leave his mouth like a taut wire snapping.
However, I don’t play at reverence.
I don’t bow.
I did the work.
I built his empire higher, and I took the shots.
I earned the ledger of debts and paid many of them in blood. The thought of being told I’ve lost the fight because my father prefers a prettier story is a joke.
“You will carry our business across the pond and manage foreign interest. Your exile will prove useful.”
Did he just say exile?
He says the words like it’s a business pivot. As if exile were merely a promotion with a better view.
My men exchange glances, probably coming to the realization that they fucked up.
“Also, your future wife.”
Now, I’m about to lose my shit.
My father picks an apple from a bowl lying on the counter, and it’d be perfect to shove in his mouth and roast him over an open fire with.
“She’s debt-free of you now.”
I really don’t know who the hell he thinks he is, stepping into my house and making decisions for me, but it’s not going to end well.
At all.
For him or Nikolai.
“She doesn’t love you,” he continues. “She’ll keep the bakery, but I have no use for her unless Nikolai would like to take her on.”
Take her on?
I’m five seconds away from killing both of them, when the distinct click of a hammer sounds and I locate it held in my brother’s palm.
He’s still scared of me.
The mere mention of Sienna has him already calculating my next move. That I will fucking tear him apart if he answers yes to that statement.
“What’s wrong, brother?” I taunt, looking past his gun and into his face. “Think I’ll get upset?”
“I know you’ll get upset,” he returns evenly. “You never did share well.”
“Remember that.”
“I’ve made an agreement with her that her father’s debts are paid in full, her grandmother’s rent will be paid for a year, and—” I snap my neck to him because it sounds like he spoke to her behind my back.
“What did you say?” I fume through clenched teeth, losing some of the space between us. “You were near my wife?”
My father glances at me like I’m losing my damn mind when I am.
Or maybe I was too naive to think Sienna might turn around and begin…caring for me? That she may eventually like me one day?
“You’re hostage,” my father corrects me, placing the red apple back where it came from. “She wants nothing to do with you. And I don’t want trouble with a woman who doesn’t want to be kept.”
“She’s mine,” I deadpan, and that’s all I should be able to say to get it through their fucking heads.
But, no.
The word hangs like an accusation in the air. Everything in the room feels deliberate and staged.
“Bring her in,” my father orders one of the men, and they blindly follow it.
I take names of those in the room, filing them away for later, but then Sienna walks in, and I’m immediately distracted.
She’s composed in a plain pink dress, hands folded at her waist. She looks tired but the thing that wrecks me is that she doesn’t look at me.
She looks at my father.
You think I could handle more surprise. That I could handle betrayal in measured doses.
But not from her.
“Sienna,” my father poses softly. “I understand your arrangement with Benedikt. You were to be his wife, to secure the line and be a part of a plan to ensure his place in my kingdom. But, we’re not doing that anymore, correct?”
She looks at the kitchen island, but doesn’t utter a single word.
“You can be free of him,” my father continues.
“You can walk away. If you choose, you can take the bakery and live quietly. You don’t have to marry and bear an heir for a man who would bind you to a difficult life.
As we discussed, your father is rid of his debt to me, and your grandmother is safe.
Or…you can leave with Benedikt tonight to Italy. You can decide.”
My blood goes ice-cold.
We had an agreement.
She signed it.
It doesn’t matter what anyone else offers her; it’s void.
“Well?” My father doesn’t remove his focus from Sienna. “Yes or no?”
Sienna’s mouth moves, soft and measured, but it’s the wrong thing she says that cuts me open.
“No.”
It’s not a whisper.
It’s a clear single syllable.
She broke our arrangement and sided with the wrong Volkovs.
“No, what?” I hear my father question. “No, you want to stay with Benedikt—”
“No,” she quickly emits, and that’s it.
That’s when I know I fucked up. That I gave her too much.
That she had too much power, and I allowed it.
Never, ever, again.
“This isn’t your choice to hand to her.”
My words have my father snapping his neck my way, just where I want it. “Excuse me? I’m still head of the Volkov name, boy. My word is bond and what goes.”
“Last chance, princess,” I warn her, giving her the smallest of openings to pick right. To pick me. “The endgame is something you’re going to hate worse than what I already gave you.”
“Stop threatening the girl,” Nikolai chortles, like this is a fucking game. “She doesn’t want you. I know that’s a hit to your ego and pride, but it happens.”
“Sienna,” I grind out, snatching her gaze when she involuntarily glances up at me—finally. “Is that your final answer?”
I see her chest draw in a deep breath, settling into the biggest decision of her life because it is.
Her response, like everything else in life, is going to carve a path out for her future.
And I’m still in it.
Whether she likes it or not.
“Y-yes,” she mutters, but it’s loud as hell in my ears.
It’s a cut that’s deep, and I’ve never, ever, handled betrayal well.
Because that’s what this is.
Colored, cruel, and consequential.
“Pack light, brother,” Nikolai chimes into my inner turmoil. “You leave in an hour.”
An hour.
Perfect.
Because I’ll be back within a week to take my girl, kill my brother and father, and reclaim my fucking town.