Page 3 of Ruthless Reign

The man of my nightmares is more like it.

Sofiya knows that Anatoly funds our lifestyle, but she doesn’t know what it costs me. That I’m sacrificing my happiness for her future. And I hope she never finds out. It would only upset her.

“Want me to do your makeup?” I offer, in an attempt to change the subject.

“Ohhh, yes!” She claps her hands and takes the seat in front of my vanity mirror. “What’s the deal with this lipstick?” She uncaps the tube, and spreads a thin layer on the back of her hand.

I grimace and snatch it from her. “I was just cleaning out my makeup drawer, getting rid of stuff I don't need.”

“You can add that to the pile. Peach lips are definitely not in this season.”

I give her a joking shove, then dig through my drawer for a smoky gray eyeliner and a golden eyeshadow to highlight her green eyes, identical in shade to mine.

As I finish applying the liner, she cracks a lid. “Oh, speaking of cute guys… I heard Roman Vasiliev is coming tonight.”

My heart stills, as it does every time I hear that name. “Roman?” I swallow hard. “I thought he was out of the country.”

“He’s back. Mama just mentioned it. I think she’s trying to set me up with him, which is weird. I mean, he’s hot and rich and all, but he’s twice my age.”

I grit my teeth. My mother has officially lost the plot.

Roman is a dangerous man, one of Maxim’s right hands. Along with Pavel Fedorov, the three of them run the Belov Syndicate.

“She never mentioned to me he was coming, but if she had, I would have told her he wasn’t worth the invite.”

Sofiya gives me a knowing look. “Are you still holding a grudge against him? He was only doing his job.”

Roman was Kira’s “bodyguard” when she and Maxim married. In reality, Roman was spying on Kira because Maxim was suspicious of his new wife’s reasons for agreeing to their arranged marriage. Every time Kira and I went shopping or grabbed drinks, Roman was there—watching her, but somehow always staring at me. Making me feel things I didn’t want to feel.

I wish I could say my issue with Roman was a simple grudge—that would be easy enough to ignore—but the emotions he provokes in me are anything but simple.

I aggressively swirl a soft brush in a pot of eyeshadow. “Yes, well, I didn’t appreciate being spied on. Everything we said was reported back to Maxim.” I clear my throat. “I know it’s in the past, but I still don’t like him. He’s so, so…” Sexy. Infuriating. Ridiculously handsome. “Full of himself.”

My sister lifts an eyebrow suggestively. “Any man who looks like that has every right to be.”

I press my lips together. It’s true, though I’d never admit it.

“Trust me, steer clear of men like him. You’ll have plenty of time for dating when you’re older. For now, focus on school and having fun with your friends.”

She eyes me like I’m crazy. “Why are you so obsessed with me getting good grades and going to university? I’d rather marry rich, like you.”

“I swear to God, Sofiya, if you?—”

“Take a pill, I’m kidding!” My sister snorts. “You know I’m practically top of my class, but there are other things in life.”

“Of course. But education is power. It's independence, and I want you to have every advantage available in this world. What happens if your husband drops dead one day or your marriage falls apart? You need to be educated to support yourself and any children you might have.”

Sofiya looks thoughtful for a moment, before her mouth draws into an impish grin. “I’ll just make sure my side pieces are rich too.”

She cackles, and I can't help but smile. My sister always jokes that I’m more of a parent than our actual parents are, which isn’t all that hard. Growing up, I was pretty much raised by the hired help while my parents jetted off to do whatever they wanted. When Sofiya was born, I vowed to give her the love and attention I never had. I'm the one who taught her how to tie her shoelaces and ride a bike. I know I can be overprotective, but it’s only because I want the best for her.

“What about you? You never finished university,” she points out.

Bitterness climbs my throat. “We couldn’t afford it. That’s why I want better for you. And I’ve continued to get an education on my own.” I gesture to the stack of business and investment books piled high on the desk beside my laptop.

What my sister doesn’t know—what no one knows—is that I’ve started day-trading stocks and bonds. I’m not playing with big bucks, just the few hundred dollars from my grandmother’s inheritance that I managed to hide from my parents. It’s this skill that I hope will one day grant me freedom.

“All done.” I step back so Sofiya can see herself in the mirror.

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