VLAD (The V Games #1)(45)

“I’ll have it seen to,” I assure him, though it wasn’t a request.

“The youngest Volkov girl?” he asks, and a fire ignites within me.

It takes everything in me not to scowl at the mention of her on his vile tongue. “Irina? What of her?”

He eyes me, studying my features for a moment. I know what he’s doing. He’s been doing it since I was old enough to speak. Father watches for small tells and then flays you apart with his tongue and his vicious words. He won’t find any tells written on my features, though. He schooled me in aloofness many years ago. I learned from the best.

“I’m thinking she may have been a better match for you,” he utters, his brows wrinkling together as he considers his words.

What?

An unusual sensation flourishes within me.

Hope?

Goddammit, what sort of game is he playing?

He continues without me forming a response. “Diana is a beautiful girl, but too headstrong. She will need to be reined in, Vlad. Bring her to her knees and show her women may have run the show in the Volkov household, but she will be a Vasiliev soon and we breed men. She will breed sons for you, not run a business she thinks she will still own once that wedding ring is on her finger.”

“She will know her place, Father,” I all but growl out. “Don’t you worry about these things. I am my father’s son, after all.” I flash him a dark look.

He grins over at me and runs a hand over his smooth jaw. “Ven appears smitten with the Volkov women. I think Leonid would encourage that coupling.”

Thud.

My hands clench, the veins in my arms ready to burst open and paint my desk red. “Irina has forsaken her father,” I say calmly. “I doubt she cares what he wants.” I sit back, playing indifferent despite the raging anger inside me.

“This is the problem when you raise women to think for themselves,” he snarls. He drums his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Maybe this can work in our favor.”

“How so?”

I wish he would shut the hell up.

Irina is mine.

Fucking mine.

“We can push her in the direction of who would serve our interests.” He’s cunning. It’s where Vika gets her sly ways.

“Diana won’t allow us to decide her sister’s fate,” I inform him. I won’t allow him to send her over to the goddamn vultures.

His face screws up into a sneer. “Diana will do what the hell she’s told,” he snaps. “You’ll set her straight, Vlad, or I’ll do it for you.” With that, he leans forward like Hades himself looking down on his subjects. “Irina is perfect dick bait for some foolish man. We will use her to trap a Voskoboynikov, perhaps.” He smirks, rising to his feet. “For now, let’s get Vika married to a Vetrov and be done with her moping around my office hoping I’ll change my mind.”

He’s insane if he thinks I’ll allow Ven or a Voskoboynikov to get anywhere near my sweet Irina.

“Maybe Irina will consider my suggestion for her to enter The Games. A Volkov heir has not proven themselves in The Games yet, and Leonid has expressed interest on investing more money and getting his name into the inner circle. Let him prove his commitment.”

“There’s a son for that now,” I remind him.

He snorts. “There’s no honor in that diluted blood. He’s a maid’s son. The only honor he brings is dishonor.” With that, he leaves me alone to ponder everything he just laid on me.

The need to claim Irina burns through my groin. The moment Father is far from my office, I race up the stairs, two at a time, and discover her door is open and she’s lying asleep on the bed for anyone to see.

I prowl into the room and slam the door closed behind me. She startles awake and her eyes expand. Just like I envisioned, her blonde hair is messy, and her lips swollen. Her fist rubs at her eyes as she squints at me. “Vlad, what is it?”

“Take off your clothes,” I demand, my tone low and deadly.

She pulls the covers up to her chest, biting on that succulent fat bottom lip, and shakes her head no. “Diana is going to look at wedding dresses, Vlad. I can’t do this again. It’s wrong.”

I stalk toward her, loosening my tie and slipping my jacket from my shoulders along the way. I sling my jacket on the chair I slept in last night. She watches my every move with wide, glimmering blue eyes. I love her stare on me. I want every part of her on me. Reaching out, I snag the covers, jerk them away from her body, and toss them on the floor behind me. She rushes away on all fours, scurrying across the bed like a frightened animal trying to escape a predator.

There is no escape.

I will always capture her.

Grasping her ankle, I tug her backwards, forcing her to collapse to her stomach. I wrap the tie around her ankle and shackle her to the bedpost.

“Vlad, release me,” she demands, and it brings a smile to my lips.

“No.”

“I’ll scream,” she threatens.

“I hope so,” I tease.

Ripping at her clothes, I tear them from her body. She squeals and fights me, trying to cover herself, but it’s futile. She’s still pantiless from earlier. I forgot I’d stuffed them in my slacks’ pocket. I pull them free and hold them between my teeth while I rip my shirt open and drop it to the floor along with my slacks.