VLAD (The V Games #1)(33)

“Rus told me what I was traded for. Land, Vlad? Seriously, is that all I’m worth to Father?”

Placing my cell down on the desk, I look up at her, searching her eyes for the little girl I once knew. She was extinguished long ago. Instead, this entity stands here with her eyes.

“Less,” I taunt. “I bargained for more, not because I believe you’re worth more, but because I can. You are just a puppet, and I’m the master holding the strings. Stop fighting the inevitable, Vika.”

“And what is that, dear brat?”

“Retribution. For me, for Niko, for Viktor.”

“Sdelay eto svoim metodom, brat.” Have it your way, brother.

She leaves my office like a storm, tearing through it and knocking over decorations as she goes.

I pick my cell phone back up and continue to scan through the pictures sent to me on a secure server. We have our whores who will be trained in seduction, but The Games are all about the chase. The depravities that lie within us all. Young women, innocent and frightened, are one of the mass appeals for The V Games, and that’s something you can’t train into someone. These women come at a cost and via special selection. Plucked from their lives and forced into a nightmare.

The faces looking back at me through the screen are that of girls living their life. They have no idea they won’t be making it home today if I approve it.

Vika’s words regarding Irina play in my mind and I find myself leaving my office and taking the stairs to see how her studio is coming along. The designer arrived an hour ago to assess the room and draw up a plan. Diana mentioned she was going to the Volkov estate for the afternoon. Maybe Irina has gone with her.

The room is so close to mine, if both our doors are left open, I can see straight into the studio. I want to see all her colors displayed through her art. It will be something for me—a wedding gift, if you will.

If I can’t have her, I’ll just admire from afar.

And no one will have her.

“Mr. Vasiliev, I was just finishing up and coming to find you.” The tall blonde woman, Marina, was the one who designed most of the rooms within this house. She was my first call after Irina’s request.

“I’ve saved you the trouble.” I offer her a tight smile and take the plans she’s drawn up from her hand.

“It’s a perfect space, and the light really works well for the intended use.”

“I’ll look this over and let you know of any changes. I want this started today,” I inform her.

Marina’s eyes widen, but she nods enthusiastically. “Of course. I’ll make some calls.”

As I reach the top of the stairs to head down to my office, voices sound from below, stopping me as I listen. Diana hasn’t left yet.

“I’ll be back for dinner, okay?”

“Go find out what’s going on.”

Pause.

“You’re sure you don’t mind Anton driving me?”

“I’ll be fine, Diana, go.”

The door closes, and I look down to see my little sun blowing a strand of hair from her face.

“Irina,” I bark.

Her frame jolts and her icy blue eyes lift, colliding with mine.

“Come here,” I demand.

She purses her lips like she’s fighting to keep words from spilling free, then moves to obey. Good girl. She takes her time climbing the stairs, dragging her hand along the railing as she almost sways toward me.

“Vlad,” she greets. Her voice is warm, and I want to tell her to stop…just stop being her.

“Your bedroom has been moved.”

It’s spontaneous and out of my mouth before the thought has even manifested fully in my mind. Just looking at her and thinking of last night, I need her closer. To make sure no one else thinks they can creep up to her room with her.

“Wh-What?” she stutters. “But Anton—”

I hold my hand up to cut her off. “Anton was too busy being your sister’s lapdog to even notice you’d disappeared to your room with Artur Voskoboynikov. If I hadn’t intervened when I did, you would have been birthing his child nine months from now.” There’s rage in my tone. The friction of my emotions is starting to chafe causing a crack in my demeanor.

Her mouth drops open, forming a small O. The rush of red blossoming over the pale of her cheeks reminds me of when she came undone from my simple contact last night.

So precious. So pure. So mine.

“Thank you,” she breathes, taking me aback.

Thank you?

“I shouldn’t have drank so much wine. It doesn’t agree with me. I’m so terribly embarrassed at my behavior. I don’t even remember that happening.”

She wraps an arm across her waist and twists at her earlobe with the other hand—a nervous habit I’ve come to adore.

“Come to my office.” I change the subject. She doesn’t remember last night. Doesn’t remember me cutting away her dress and bringing her over the edge of bliss with just a press of my crotch to hers. Probably better that way.

“You called me up here to tell me to come downstairs?”

The coy little girl has left, and the spunky Irina is back in her rightful shoes.

I want to force her to hold the railings with both hands and bend over so I can smack her tight ass until it burns crimson under my palm. Then I’d use my tie around her neck as a harness while I entered her raw and hard. She’d want to scream out in pleasure, but my hands tightening the fabric would restrict her. People would come and go through the front door, unbeknownst to them that the sweet little virgin sister of my bride-to-be was being schooled on who owns her.