Chapter 21
GAVAN
Fuck Svetlana.
I hate that she was in here, poisoning the very air I breathe. I hate that she even crossed the Hudson from New Jersey into Manhattan.
I hate how I always freeze up when she’s around. It’s as if the very air leaves my chest, like it did when I was a kid.
I was a fucking kid .
Everyone has demons. But some are darker than others. Some have sharper claws, or a more vicious bite. And those are the demons and the darkness from my past I’ve never told anyone.
Not even Konstantin, my own brother. And definitely not Vadim. I couldn’t.
When Vadim, an unmarried, unattached man was suddenly raising a baby boy—aka me —people had questions. The rumor began swirling that I was Svetlana’s unwanted child, and that Vadim, being the good brother he was, had taken me in as his own.
Vadim never confirmed the rumor, obviously, because it wasn’t true. But he never denied it, either. It was just easier than whatever complicated explanation he’d have to give otherwise about who I was and where I came from.
But those rumors made things not so easy for Svetlana. And she resented both Vadim and me for the sideways looks she got after I appeared on the scene.
That’s where her cruelty came from, I’m sure of it. It’s how she must have justified the abuse she heaped on me later.
But Vadim could and never would know of that abuse.
Back then, of course, I didn’t know I was Kristina Reznikov’s secret son.
All I knew was that Vadim had found me one night when I was a baby, orphaned on the streets of St. Petersburg.
I’d have died or turned into one of the walking dead you see on the streets of Russia—the unwanted children with darkness flowing through their veins and dimming their eyes.
He saved me from that nightmare. And in return I never said a word about what his sister Svetlana did to me. I decided it was the toll I would pay for the new life I’d been given.
A violent black knot twists in my chest. I stare at the door where Eilish just left. I know I should follow her. I want to follow her, want to tell her everything, for some insane reason.
But I can’t.
I grit my teeth. Eilish probably has the idea in her head that Svetlana made me hard, and that I wanted her to give me release.
That couldn’t be further from the truth.
Svetlana sucks the life out of the world around me.
She brings nothing but coldness and darkness.
After she left, and I locked eyes with Eilish, it was Eilish I wanted.
I instantly craved her, like a drug—craved the goodness she brings to my life.
The way she breaks down my barriers, even when she’s defying me.
Or maybe especially when she’s defying me.
I wanted her just now because I wanted to forget. I wanted to lose myself in Eilish to purge the nightmares of Svetlana from my head.
I exhale, shoving my fingers distractedly through my hair as I march over to the safe and open it. Svet was in here bitching about the egg, obviously. And that led to questions about the empty display case.
I told her I was keeping it in my safe until our deal could be done.
It’s not technically a lie. The Imperial Shield is in my safe. It’s just that it’s in there in about forty pieces, in a box.
I glare at the shattered bits.
I’m running out of time and runway to try to hold Svetlana off. Soon, she’s either going to realize I’m bullshitting her, or not even care if I am. Then she’ll simply move on with her legal attack on my company.
The fucked-up part is, she’s got a great chance of winning that attack, too.
There are other ways, of course, that I could, I suppose you could say…
take care of this problem. I’ve dreamed of about a thousand different ways I could kill Svet.
Except she’s not stupid, and employs a small army of security.
In fact, just now in my office is the first time I’ve even seen her without at least three of her guards around her.
I mean there were ten of the fuckers downstairs on the main floor, but still.
I should have killed right now and figured out the consequences later. Fuck.
Sinking into my desk chair, I grit my teeth as I tap Taylor Crown’s contact number. This is a conversation I’ve been putting off for way too long.
“Gavan,” Taylor chirps into the phone, all-business as always. “What can I do for you?”
“If there was no egg.”
She pauses. “No egg?”
“If there was no Imperial Shield. What would that mean, concerning Svetlana and her deal.”
She exhales slowly. “You know what it would mean, Gavan. Look, I know it’s worth both a lot of money and has incalculable sentimental value to you. But, Gavan, given what’s at stake here, just give it to her—”
“No, what I mean,” I growl, “is if there literally was no egg. Not off the table. Not as if I’m refusing to part with it. If it didn’t exist anymore. What would happen.”
“ Jesus, Gavan,” she murmurs. “What happened—”
“Just tell me, Taylor. Please.”
She takes a long, deep breath. “If there was no egg, then again, I’m afraid it would fall back to the unfortunate language of your father’s will.”
My eyes close.
“Unfortunate” doesn’t quite cover it.
Years before he died, when I was a newly crowned prince, for tax and security reasons, Ironclad Holdings was created with Vadim listed as the owner. When he passed, that ownership formed part of his estate, which he left to me.
Except some fucking idiot of a lawyer worded the will to have Vadim leaving his estate specifically to “Gavan Tsarenko and his family .”
And therein lies the problem.
I might be biologically Kristina Reznikov’s son.
I might co-helm the empire with Konstantin.
But legally speaking, Vadim adopted me, making me his family.
Given that he has no other relatives aside from his sister Svetlana, it now means that miserable bitch is—technically speaking—my only living family.
Which means the company, according to that shit wording, technically belongs to me and the devil-cunt herself. And given that she can prove I purposefully denied her money Vadim left her, it puts me at fault, and allows her to take full control.
Unless I had other family.
Unfortunately, Konstantin doesn’t count, as there’s no legal record of Kristina being my mother.
A blood test would prove it, but the horrible irony is that by being a good, decent man and legally adopting me, Vadim’s sort of fucked me over here.
Because now that adoptive son status outranks my half-sibling relationship to Konstantin.
Long story short, if I want to stop Svetlana, I need a family.
“If there’s no egg, Gavan,” Taylor says quietly, “then we’re in big trouble. But we’ve been over this before. Just find someone. Literally anyone.”
There’s the final twist: legally speaking, “family” can just mean “wife”.
“Walk out of your office right now and find someone on the street. Or your secretary, for fuck’s sake!
” Taylor pleads. “I’ll draw up a contract and a bulletproof prenup.
It would just have to last a few months to hold up to a court examination, and then this would all be over.
You’d probably have to pay Svet some money, I won’t lie.
But the company and Koikov would stay firmly in your hands. ”
I close my eyes. Taylor exhales.
“This doesn’t have to be hard, Gavan. Just find someone. Anyone. Literally a stranger will do.”
Slowly, my lips curl at the edges into a dark grin.
“Thanks, Taylor.”
“Wait. Gavan—”
I hang up, my pulse thudding loudly in my ears.
I don’t need a stranger.
I have Eilish.