Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(37)

Violet walked in after him, shutting the door behind her as Konstantin kicked off his boots and shrugged off his coat. He gave her a curious look as she stood there, looking around.

“Are you going to wait here, or what?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t know who lives here.”

Violet wasn’t the kind of person who just snooped through someone’s home.

Konstantin smiled, chuckling. “Viktoria, actually. When she’s got shit going on, I stick around to keep an eye on things.”

“Things?”

“Her.”

Violet raised a single brow, curious.

Konstantin didn’t give her an opportunity to press for more details, not that it would have been any of her business to do so. “Worry not, the Ice Queen isn’t home at the moment. You’re safe to make yourself comfortable while I grab what I came for.”

“She leaves her doors unlocked?” Violet asked.

“Who the f*ck is stupid enough to break into a Boykov’s home?”

Point taken.

Violet dropped the conversation and went about taking off her own things. By the time she was done, Konstantin had already disappeared down the hallway. She listened to his steps as it sounded like he climbed stairs.

For such a quiet man—at times—he wasn’t very light-footed.

That or Konstantin didn’t feel the need to keep his presence quiet.

Cell phone in hand, Violet made her way down the hallway, peeking into a living room with leather furniture, beige walls, and a flat-screen television large enough to cover nearly half of one entire wall. Pictures on the walls showcased many different faces, but she recognized a few.

The Boykov brothers.

Maya. Some with her husband, some without.

Viktoria.

Violet, feeling a little out of place in a room filled with family photos, decided to find another room to chill in until Konstantin finished his business. She eventually found her way into a kitchen that looked like it was rarely, if ever, used. The immaculate appliances and brightness of the room reminded Violet of the kitchen in Kaz’s apartment—one he had also rarely used.

Inviting like a showroom floor but cold all the same.

Pulling out a chair at the kitchen table, Violet sat down and looked at the black screen. She hit the home button, hoping for some kind of message from Kaz but finding nothing.

The unease settling deep in the pit of her stomach only grew the longer she stared at her phone. Violet shoved it to the side and stared out the window, watching light tufts of snow begin to fall. If nothing else, it gave her a distraction.

That only lasted a short while, long enough for her to get lost in a daze of white flakes.

And then a door slammed open. The front door.

Violet damn near jumped out of her chair.

“Jesus, Konstantin. What did I tell you about bringing females into my house?”

Great.

Violet tried not to cringe at the venom in Viktoria’s tone, never mind the few Russian words she let loose. Guessing by her anger, they weren’t pleasant words.

All too soon, Viktoria’s figure was passing by the kitchen in a flurry of platinum blonde hair and a black dress. Then the woman slowed her steps, backing up slowly, and eyeing Violet at the kitchen table. A cold, blank slate of nothingness quickly replaced the irritation on her face.

“Hello … Violet, right?” Viktoria asked.

Violet let the girl’s rude attitude bounce off her. Viktoria knew her name—she’d known it the first time they met without Violet even needing to introduce herself.

“Nice to see you again, Viktoria,” Violet said. “Or … privyet, right?”

Viktoria looked like she almost wanted to crack a smile but managed to hold it back. “That would be right, but your American accent makes your Russian terrible.”

Violet did smile, still refusing to let the woman bother her. She wasn’t sure what in the hell Viktoria’s problem with her was, but it wasn’t something Violet had done to her. The two didn’t know each other from a f*cking hole in the ground. Whatever Viktoria’s issue was, she would need to handle it on her own.

It was her problem, not Violet’s.

“I could have said it my way,” Violet said quietly.

Viktoria didn’t look all that impressed. “Oh?”

“Sì. Ciao. Come stai?”

“I—”

“I believe she said hello and asked how you were,” Konstantin interrupted his sister, strolling into the kitchen like nothing was amiss. Tossing Violet a smile, he asked, “Yes?”

“Actually, yeah,” Violet replied. “How did you know?”

“Standard greeting.” Konstantin went straight to the fridge, opening it up and bending down to dig inside. “Anyone who travels should at least learn a few simple, easy phrases to get by in a foreign place.”

“You’ve been to Italy?”

Konstantin straightened, bottle of water in one hand, a jar of something else in his other. “No.”

“But you just said—”

“Best to be able to talk to your enemy, too,” he said, smiling in that cold way of his.

Viktoria laughed at that, her gaze cutting to Violet as if she had missed some unspoken joke.

Konstantin dropped the jar to the countertop, the loud clank silencing Viktoria’s laughter instantly. “But,” he drawled, his stare never leaving his sister, “we have no enemies here, yes?”