Chapter 7 Lev
LEV
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I hold up a hand to stop Vivika mid-sentence.
She's been practicing her introductions for the past hour, learning how to extend her hand and tilt her chin and meet someone's eyes with the kind of cold confidence that Ana Veche was known for.
She's getting better. Not good enough, but better.
"Hold that thought," I say, pulling out the phone. Yuri's name flashes on the screen. "I need to take this."
I step into the hallway and answer to avoid Vivika overhearing things she's not meant to hear. I've sold her for now with that line about trafficking girls, which is partially true, but if she learns of the real reason for my need to use her, she'll just keep rebelling. It's easier this way.
"What is it?" I ask into the phone.
"Fyodor's here with intel on the Veches. Come down to my study."
"I'm in the middle of lessons with—"
"Dimitri can watch her. Get down here."
The line goes dead before I can respond. I stare at the phone for a moment, then pocket it and walk back into the dining room where Vivika is still standing with her hand extended toward an imaginary guest.
"Something's come up," I tell her. "My Uncle Dimitri is going to watch you while I'm gone."
Her expression shifts, a flicker of unease crossing her features. "Is everything okay?" The very instant she switches back to being Vivika, every trace of Ana's character melts away and she folds in on herself.
"Everything's fine. Keep practicing what we worked on.
" I pause at the door, remembering the other task I need to arrange.
"A woman is coming by later to take your measurements for wardrobe.
We need outfits tailored for you, things that fit better than what we've given you so far. Those were mere guesses at your size…"
"Tailored outfits?"
"Ana Veche doesn't wear off-the-rack clothing.
Everything she owns is couture." I meet her eyes, holding her gaze.
"You need to look the part from head to toe.
No shortcuts." And my cock jumps as I think of what that goddess will look like in designer clothing.
Though, the way she made me rock hard wearing nothing but plain cotton panties speaks for itself.
I'll never be able to control myself if I see her in silk.
She nods slowly, processing this, and I leave her there with her hand still half-raised and her green eyes full of questions I don't have time to answer.
Dimitri's waiting in the hallway as I walk out, watching my expression as he stands and meets my eyes.
As Yuri's brother, Dimitri is set to take charge of the family if things don't go the way the boss has planned, and I'm not about to let that happen after seeing the way he tried to maneuver the family against Yuri when Dominic died.
I'm surprised he's even in St Petersburg right now after all of that.
He's a loner. He'd rather be handling his business out of town.
"She giving you trouble?" he asks, nodding toward the dining room.
"She's doing fine. I have to go speak with the boss." I clap him on the shoulder as I pass. "Don't let her out of your sight. And make sure the wardrobe woman gets in to take measurements when she arrives."
"Got it," he says, though he has infinitely more authority than me in this family. But he's finally making amends.
I make my way down the hall to Yuri's study, where the door is already closed and the sound of low voices vibrates through the wood.
I knock once and enter without waiting for an answer, finding Yuri behind his desk and Fyodor sprawled in one of the leather chairs with a folder in his lap.
My brother looks up when I enter, his eyes tracking me as I close the door and take the seat beside him.
"What's the intel?" I ask, skipping the pleasantries.
Fyodor tosses the folder onto Yuri's desk. "Ana Veche. Or what's left of her story, anyway."
Yuri opens the folder and spreads the contents across his desk—photographs, surveillance reports, transcripts of intercepted communications. I lean forward to get a better look, recognizing some of the names and locations mentioned in the documents.
"Our sources inside the Veche organization have been talking," Fyodor says. "The official story is still that Ana's visiting family, taking an extended trip, whatever bullshit Yaros has been feeding people. But the people closest to the inner circle are telling a different story."
"Which is?" I glance up at him and lift an eyebrow.
"Ana was double-crossed." Fyodor's voice is flat as he leans forward and pushes a file toward me. "By her own family. The intel suggests Yaros might be behind her disappearance."
I sit back in my chair processing what he's saying. Yaros taking out his own sister? It's not unheard of in our world—family ties mean nothing when power is on the line—but Ana was the one who raised him, who groomed him, who gave him everything he has. For him to turn on her…
"Why?" I ask. "How could a man do that to his own family?"
"Control." Yuri stalks over to us and sits in one of the leather armchairs. "Ana was the Donna. Yaros was her puppet, dancing on strings she pulled. Maybe he got tired of dancing."
"Or maybe someone offered him a better deal," Fyodor adds. "There are rumors that Yaros has been in talks with some of the smaller families, trying to build his own coalition independent of Ana's alliances. Hard to do that when your sister's still calling the shots."
"So you think he sent her away?" I ask him, looking down at the file Fyodor pushed at me. It's a report from one of our men tucked away inside Ana's organization for safekeeping.
"I have no proof, only a gut feeling. But I'm leaning that way." Yuri reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigar and sniffs it. "But this doesn't change our plan. If anything, it strengthens it."
"How?" I ask, dropping the file back to the table.
"The Veche allies don't know Ana's gone.
They have no reason to doubt Yaros. After all, he's following the rules of the alliance.
So when she suddenly reappears—when our Ana reappears—they won't see it as strange.
They'll think she's come back to take her rightful place.
" A cold smile spreads across his face. "And they'll move to surround her, support her, rally behind the Donna they've been loyal to for years. "
"Leaving Yaros isolated," Fyodor says, catching on. "Because she'll be doing things we want her to do."
"Exactly." Yuri's eyes lock on Fyodor. "His own allies will turn on him, thinking they're supporting Ana's return to power. By the time anyone realizes the truth, we'll have what we need and Yaros will be too busy fighting fires to come after us."
It's a good plan. But there's a problem Yuri isn't addressing, and I can't keep quiet about it any longer.
"But Vivika isn't ready," I say. "She's learning, she's trying, but she's not going to pass as the real Ana up close. Yaros has spent his entire life at his sister's side. He'll see through her in five seconds flat."
Yuri's eyes narrow. "Then make her ready."
"I'm trying. But there's only so much I can do in—"
"The plan goes forward according to schedule." Yuri's voice cuts through my objection like a hot knife through butter. "We make a public appearance with Ana in two days' time to test the waters and see how Yaros responds. If nothing else, his allies will start pressuring him to speak to Ana."
The look in Yuri's eyes tells me the discussion's over. He's made his decision, and questioning it further will only make me look weak. I have to make Vivika ready and she has to be ready now.
"Understood," I say.
Yuri seems satisfied and rises from his desk. "I have calls to make. You two work out the details."
He leaves the study without another word, and I'm left alone with Fyodor and a folder full of intel that doesn't make me feel any better about what we're doing.
"You look worried," Fyodor says.
"I'm rightly concerned," I correct. I don't want him thinking I'm a coward. "Vivika's not ready. She looks like Ana, but she's not. Anyone who knew the real Donna is gonna see right through her."
"Maybe. Maybe not." Fyodor shrugs and props a foot up on Yuri's coffee table. "Yuri knows what he's doing. He's been playing this game longer than either of us have been alive. If he says the plan goes forward, then the plan goes forward."
I don't have time to waste sitting here bickering with him about possibilities.
"I should get back to her," I say, rising from my chair. "The wardrobe woman should be there by now."
Fyodor waits until I'm at the door before continuing. "Stick to the plan, Brother. Yuri knows what he's doing," he calls after me.
I leave without answering, my mind churning through everything I've just learned.
Yaros is building a coalition behind Ana's back.
The whole fucking Veche empire is built on a foundation of lies and betrayal.
And Vivika's about to be thrust into the center of a war she doesn't even know she's fighting.
As I approach Vivika's door, I can hear voices coming from inside the room. I push open the door without knocking and freeze in the doorway at the sight that greets me.
Vivika stands in the center of the room in nothing but her bra and panties. Not her bra and panties—new ones. Sexy ones that have my dick pulsing instantly.
The wardrobe woman—a middle-aged lady with pins stuck in a cushion on her wrist—has a measuring tape stretched across Vivika's hips, her head bent in concentration as she notes the numbers in a small book. But I barely notice her.
My eyes are locked on Vivika, on the curves of her body, on the pale skin that seems to glow in the afternoon light streaming through the curtains. The way her tits round out that silk bra and push upward in a perfect fleshy curve that has me drooling.
She sees me and her face flushes, her arms coming up instinctively to cover herself. "I—we were just—"
"Out," I say to the wardrobe woman, stalking toward the sight of all that skin exposed. I haven't forgotten my deadline, but fuck if I can't concentrate if she's gonna stand there like that.
The woman looks up, startled. "But I haven't finished the—"
"I said out. Come back later."
She gathers her things quickly, sensing the dismissal in my tone, and scurries past me through the door. I close it behind her and turn back to Vivika, who's still standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"You could've knocked," she mumbles sheepishly. There is never any fight in this woman. What the hell is wrong with her? Doesn’t she know she's supposed to snap and tell me what a pervert I am?
"I could've." I walk toward her slowly, letting my eyes travel over her body without shame.
Holy fuck does, she do things to my body.
I've seen plenty of naked women, strippers in clubs, and whores who want to throw themselves at me.
But this… This is perfection. Like God himself created this masterpiece for my eyes alone. "But then I would've missed this."
Her flush deepens. "That's not—you can't just—"
"You're beautiful," I growl, but I don’t touch her. Damn, do I want to touch her, though. "Has anyone ever told you that? How fucking beautiful you are?"
She stares at me with wide green eyes, her lips parted slightly, but she doesn't respond.
I step close enough that I can see the pulse fluttering in her throat.
"Thank you," I tell her gently, knowing the only way to make this woman mold herself to my will is to coax it out of her.
Ordering her only frightens her. But I'm a fast learner.
Vivika needs to feel like she matters and she's being noticed.
"For being willing to help. For trying as hard as you have.
I know this isn't easy for you." And fuck, do I notice…
"I don't have much choice," she whispers.
"You have more choice than you think." I reach out and brush a strand of hair from her face with my pinky, curling it around her ear.
Her skin is warm and soft, and she shivers at my touch.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous… I'd love to…" I stop myself from saying what I want to say because I need her to comply.
She swallows hard, her eyes searching my face. "Will I be able to go home? When all of this is finished?" She's still pleading for that, and I can't even answer her. She could end up dead before this is said and done, and not by my hand.
Yuri said she's a tool, useful only as long as she serves our purposes.
But tools who've served their purpose are put away, and in my world that means she's dispensable.
But when she looks at me like I have the power to save her, I don't know how to speak.
I lose my mind. I want to keep her forever just like this—naked and frightened and fully mine.
And if I have it my way, that's how she'll stay.
"I'll make sure you have a good future," I say, and it's not quite a lie, but it's not quite the truth, either. "When this is over, you won't have to worry about anything. I'll take care of you."
Something flickers in her eyes, and she nods as if accepting my words even though she has no reason to trust them.
I step back, putting distance between us before I do something I'll regret. "Get dressed. We have more work to do before dinner."
She reaches for the robe draped over the chair beside her, pulling it on and tying it tight around her waist. The silk clings to her curves, showing them off, and it doesn't help my self-control at all, but I force myself to look away.
I have to focus on the plan and the timeline and the thousand things that could go wrong in the next two days.
But underneath all of that, I'm already thinking about how I can spin this around and can keep Vivika in my life long after this little stunt is finished. She doesn't have to go back to her shitty apartment and her lonely life.
She could stay.
She could be mine.