VLAD (The V Games #1)(52)

“Vlad, or shall I call you brother now?” he asks, a smirk on his face. “You are marrying my sister, after all.”

I snort. “You can call me sir or master, Vas.”

He narrows his blue eyes on me, and I can imagine the ways he’s thinking of carving me up. I’d have the same thoughts if spoken to like that. Running a hand down his cheap suit, he watches the room just like I taught him. “Is that what Diana calls you?” he teases, trying to get under my skin. Foolish boy.

“In fact, it is,” I torment. “Or Daddy when the mood strikes.”

He grinds his teeth, then makes his first mistake. “Father and I have decided Irina will return home where she belongs. I have plans for her.”

Ice cold fury shrouds me in its chilly grip. “She belongs here, and no one is taking her away,” I grit out in warning.

“You get Diana, Vlad,” he says. “Irina returns to the fold.”

My fist clenches and I’m dying to ram it through his stupid nose like I’ve done hundreds of times when he answered to me down in the basement. Instead, I glower at him.

“Don’t come into my home and make demands of me,” I snarl. “It’s a death warrant.”

“It’s not a demand of you,” he bites out, ignoring my threat. “It’s of her.” He places his glass down and saunters off into the crowd.

I’ll kill him and feed him to his stupid daddy if he even tries to remove Irina from me.

She’s fucking mine.

I spy a server and make my way over to him, stopping when I overhear Vika speaking to Veniamin.

“It’s true, Ven, precious Diana and that old man, Anton, are up to no good behind my good brother’s back.”

“Your lies will get innocent people killed, Vika,” Ven grits out. “Diana is nothing like you, so stop projecting.” He grabs her arm, sneering down at her.

She snatches her arm and bites back, “I saw them with my own eyes. They were kissing like high schoolers at prom and then disappeared into her hotel room when we went away to buy my dress.”

My head begins to throb with information overload. Diana is fucking Anton? He’s as old as my goddamn father. Have they been doing that under my roof? Right under my nose for over a fucking month? Is that why she wanted him to come here with her? How did I miss this?

I miss nothing.

Anger explodes within me.

It’s not often I get blindsided, and when it happens, I make motherfuckers pay.

I march down to my office, needing answers, and flick the computer on. I bring up the first week’s feed from when they arrived in Diana’s room and fast forward until my heart stops.

Anton enters her room.

Goddammit.

I knew she wasn’t a virgin.

I can’t watch that old man rutting on her. I fast forward to him leaving her room and change to the corridor cameras. They must be stupid and have a death wish to do this shit in my house. It’s not the fact that Diana is fucking someone else, it’s the who, and the deceit—the brazen disloyalty. She told me she was a virgin and insisted on bringing that man here. Leonid will lose his mind over this. If it gets out that I allowed this to happen under my roof with no retribution, I’ll be a laughing stock.

I stare numbly at the screen, my mind racing with building anger.

It’s been ten minutes that Anton has been back in his own room when his door opens again.

How many times can he go at his age?

But it’s not Diana’s room he creeps into this time. It’s Irina’s. My heart feels like it’s going to burst from the ribs containing it.

No.

Please fucking no.

If she’s sleeping with him too, I’m going to be sick.

My guts coil as I click on the screen to her room.

“Vlad? What’s wrong?” Irina’s voice calls from the doorway. She floats toward me, and I have to hold up my hand to stop her. If this shows any signs of Anton and her touching, I can’t trust myself not to kill her.

I drag my eyes from Irina and glare at the screen. She’s asleep in her bed, oblivious to the fact that he’s even in there. He stands at the foot of her bed and pulls his cock from his slacks.

Motherfucker.

“Oh, God,” Irina cries out. I hadn’t even noticed her approach this side of the room.

Her eyes tear up, and she clutches her stomach as if to hold in the sickness she’s clearly feeling.

“It was him,” she gasps, almost choking.

“What was him?” I demand, my blood igniting with rage.

“I thought it was a dream.”

“What, Irina?!” I roar, losing it. I know what she’s going to say. I can feel it in my bones. I don’t want to hear it, but I need to.

Her eyes are wide and filled with terror like a deer caught in headlights.

“Someone touched me when I was a young girl,” she whispers, the tears in her eyes spilling down her cheeks. “Just once, and Diana’s presence scared them away. I thought it was a dream, but it’s coming back to me. I blocked him out, but now he’s so clear. It was Anton.”

The rage that had been surging to the surface explodes. I rise to my feet, sending my chair hurtling away from me and grab my monitor. With a furious roar, I launch it across the room and it crashes against the wall. The sound is satisfying, but my fury has no hope of being snuffed out. The calm, collected man has evaporated. In his wake stands the beast—the monster ready to rain hell down on this earth.