Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
LUKYAN VOLKOV
It’s not easy, living two lives.
I stared out over the dining table, my eyes running over all the trays of food, looking for anything out of place.
Today was the day. Today was the motherfucking day.
Everything had to be perfect. I didn’t want anything less. Lyla didn’t deserve anything less.
The table was set immaculately. I’d googled the best way to set a table, and made sure it looked exactly how it did in the Youtube tutorial. Flora and a few of the other housemaids had offered to help, but I’d respectfully declined. I wanted to do everything myself, and I mean everything.
I cooked all the food. Hand-picked the flowers sitting snugly in the vase in the center of the table.
Lit the candles all around the room. Laid the rose pedals on the floor.
Set each piece of cutlery, plate, and wine glass in exactly the right spot.
I wanted Lyla to see the effort I put in.
See how important it all was to me that everything be absolutely perfect for her.
Only for her. Because she deserved the world.
I wore my best suit. My hair was down because I knew she loved it the most that way. My face was clean-shaven. I’d buffed my shoes so they were sparkling. And the pièce de résistance—her collar, snapped securely around my neck.
Despite the excitement coursing through my veins, I couldn’t help but be a little nervous too. I hated being nervous. It was so out of the norm for me, but I knew it was a good kind of nervous because today was the day that everything finally revealed itself.
The day that I spoke the whole truth, for the first time in two years. No lies. No carefully worded answers or phrases. Just the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
My phone dinged with an incoming text message.
Illayana Butt Face: Pulling up now.
My breath caught in my throat. Fuck, here we go.
I did another quick glance around the table, making sure there wasn’t a single thing out of place. A speck of fluff was sitting next to Lyla’s plate. I picked it up and glared at it.
“What are you doing? Are you trying to ruin everything?!” I hissed at the inanimate object. “Fuck off before you destory all my hard work.” I flicked it away and rubbed the sleeve of my jacket over that spot vigorously, making it spick-and-span again.
Laughter and footsteps echoed to my ears from the front of the house. My spine snapped straight. She’s coming. I cleared my throat, straightened the lapels on my jacket, and took my position by the front door.
I cracked my neck one side, then the other before blowing out a deep, calming breath.
You can do this, Lukyan. You can do this—
Lyla walked in. My heart stopped dead in my chest. She was so goddamn beautiful. I honestly had no idea what I had done in a previous life to be so fucking lucky. Her hair was down in waves, cascading over her shoulders. Her honey-colored eyes were lit up bright. Sparkling. And her smile?
God, her fucking smile.
It took my breath away every time I saw it.
Lyla froze in the doorway, looking at me and then the—not to toot my own horn—beautifully decorated table behind me. “What is this?” she breathed out in shock.
I bowed gallantly at the waist, turning my body as I spread my arm out wide. “Your dinner awaits, my lady.”
Lyla giggled and did a fancy curtsy. “Why, thank you, good sir.”
I offered my hand, and she placed hers in it. My gaze snagged on the wedding ring on her finger, and a burst of pride exploded in my chest.
She is mine. All fucking mine.
I led her over to the head of the table and pulled out her seat.
She giggled again. “I have no idea what’s going on, but I am loving it.”
I chuckled. “Thought you might.” I winked. I went back over to the door and gave Illayana a hug. “Thank you for your help,” I whispered.
“Anytime,” she replied, returning the hug.
She, of course, didn’t know what the dinner was about. Just that I needed her help distracting Lyla while I set it all up. Maybe one day, I would tell my siblings.
Maybe not.
She stepped back and waved to Lyla. “Thanks for breakfast. See you later.”
“Yeah, see you later! And hey, I still want that spar soon,” Lyla said, a smirk of excitement curling on her lips.
Illayana’s smirk mirrored hers. “Definietly.” And then she left.
“You sure you want to spar with her? She fights dirty,” I said jokingly, but also not at the same time because I knew from firsthand experience Illayana did whatever she needed to do to win a fight.
Lyla’s smile was big and bright. “Oh, I’m sure. I’ve seen her fight. I think it’ll be fun.”
I laughed, shaking my head. I retrieved the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket and popped it open.
Lyla arched a brow. “Champagne? What are we celebrating?”
“It’s our anniversary,” I said casually, pouring the champagne into her glass.
She frowned, thinking it over. “No, it’s not.”
I poured my glass next and placed the bottle down on the table before taking my seat beside her. I picked up my drink, leaned back, and crossed my ankle over my knee, staring her dead in the eyes. “Yes. It is.”
Two years earlier
My father thought he was being followed.
I thought he was just being his usual paranoid self, but hey, no one gave a shit about my opinion.
He told me to watch him from afar to see if anyone was tracking his movements.
So, that was what I was doing, even if I thought he was being absolutely crazy.
No one in their right mind would follow the Bratva Butcher.
I stayed at least a hundred metres behind him at all times as he walked down the street, his bodyguards right at his side. I’d chosen a pretty awesome disguise, even going the extra mile and getting a custom-made wig and facial hair to better hide my appearance.
If my father was being followed, I couldn’t afford to be recognized.
If I was going to catch the imaginary stalker my father had conjured in his mind, I needed to watch without being watched, which was easy to do now that I looked nothing like myself.
I had short, spiky red hair, a full beard—also the same shade—and big, horn-rimmed glasses.
I was still killing the look, of course, but at least no one would think I was Lukyan Volkov in that getup.
For hours, I tracked my father as he went to various stores along the Vegas strip, and I felt like I was going to die of boredom—
A figure caught my attention from across the street. I froze, stunned. A woman slinked in and out of the shadows, her gaze securely fastened on my father.
Holy shit. He was right. He is being followed.
Interest sparked in my soul in an instant.
My head cocked to the side as I studied her.
She moved fast. Slick. For such a tall woman—at least six foot, I’d have guessed—, she moved with such grace and fluidly.
Her movements were precise, and she didn’t draw attention to herself.
If it wasn’t for the fact that I was actively searching for something out of place, I doubt I would have even noticed her myself.
My feet moved on autopilot as I tracked her tracking my father. She ducked in and out of stores, never losing sight of her target. When my father stopped, she stopped, pretending to tie her shoes. When my father turned, she turned, gazing in the windows like she was interested in what was there.
She was totally inconspicuous.
Excitement burst in my veins. Who is she? I was dying to know.
For the past month, I had been watching the mystery woman track my father. In retrospect, I probably should have told him what was going on. That he was right. Someone was following him. But…I didn’t want to. I didn’t want him to do something to make the woman disappear. She intrigued me too much.
I wanted to know her.
There was something about her that just called to me. A kindred spirit. I was sure of it. So, I told my father there was no danger, but as a precaution, I would continue to follow him from the shadows to ensure it.
The woman had been very careful to hide her identity. Every time I saw her, she was in a different getup. Her hair was always different. So were her eyes. And I could have sworn her nose was a different shape the last time I saw her too.
It made me beyond curious about what she actually looked like. Who she really was. I needed to get closer. I needed to get some of her DNA so I could run her through our system. Try to find out her true identity.
I sat at the counter of the café, drinking from my mug, my eyes firmly on the woman while hers were firmly on my father as he collected his styrofoam cup from the barista and deposited a very large and generous tip in the tip jar.
The cap she was wearing was cute.
I discreetly took out my phone and snapped a few photos of her.
For memories. To look at when I missed her.
Because I did. I missed her when I wasn’t watching her.
I knew it was quickly becoming an obsession, and I didn’t care.
That woman had been the first thing to grab my attention in years. I wasn’t letting that go. Never.
My father headed for the exit. The woman threw back whatever liquid had long since gone cold in her mug and went to follow.
Something spurred me forward, telling me not to let her get away.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to meet her. The idea to stage a run-in burst into my head, and then the next thing I knew, I was out of my seat, moving toward her, hunting her down—
“Ooof.” She ran smack into my chest. She’d been so preoccupied watching my father she hadn’t even seen me coming from the other side. Her body tipped back and my arms wrapped around her waist, stopping her in mid-air. Heat shot up my spine from the contact.
Her gaze snapped to me, and my heart stopped dead in my chest.
The most beautiful pair of honey-colored eyes stared deep into my fucking soul, taking my goddamn breath away. Those were her real eyes. I was sure of it, and they would be forever seared into my brain.