Page 7 of Sinful Games

“She is happy to help, aren’t you, my child?” Mankiev said with a strained smile, pressing her to respond.

The girl nodded silently. “Of course, Papa. Whatever I can do to make you happy.”

Her voice was soft and carried a gentle, melodic quality, like a soothing lullaby. It was like honey and sweet peaches on a warm summer afternoon—a rare touch of innocence in our dark world.

"I've always cursed God for not blessing me with a son," Mankiev patted his daughter's shoulder. "But at least He granted me a beautiful daughter. Don’t you think she’s beautiful, Volkov?"

A cold chill ran down my spine.

What a fucking piece of shit.

Volk casually pulled out his phone, tapping away while keeping his cigar between his lips. "She is, Mankiev," he replied without glancing up.

"Is she for sale?" I inquired casually, my gaze locked with Mankiev's, who showed a hint of surprise.

He circled his daughter's shoulder with his arm, and she flinched slightly, her gaze still fixed on the floor while biting her lower lip.

"Nyet, Romaniev. She is my prized possession," Mankiev laughed, his grip tightening around his daughter. "Besides, she is too young for you."

A few seconds passed.

“There’s a price for everything, Mankiev, isn’t there?”

I took another drag of my cigar, the smoke curling around my face.

The room was filled with tension.

Mankiev might see his daughter as a prized possession, but in our world, nothing is truly untouchable if the price is right. I was simply testing the limits of the old bastard’s resolve.

“We’ll see you tomorrow, Kristian,” Igor said suddenly, getting up and putting on his jacket. “Don’t be late.”

He walked to the door, signaling for us to follow.

I glanced at the girl one last time, and as she looked up at me, her eyes seemed to show both anger and... was it disgust?

“I bet you—” I started, but Igor cut me off.

“Don’t even think about fucking with that poor girl,” Igor warned as he headed towards the car. “Being Mankiev’s daughter is punishment enough; she doesn’t need your sorry ass to make her life even worse.”

Dve opened the car door, waiting for Igor to take his seat.

I rolled my eyes. “Trust me, boss, no woman can say no to this face,” I said, pointing to myself. “And who knows? Maybe a little distraction is exactly what she needs to forget that pathetic excuse for a father.”

Volk scoffed. “Oh, right. And she needsyoufor that.”

We settled into the back of the SUV—me in the passenger seat, Dve at the wheel, and Volk and Igor in the rear.

A deep silence blanketed the car as we drove towards the loft. The city’s architectural beauty shimmered under the warm glow of the streetlights.

Despite my usual aversion to winter, I couldn’t help but love this city, my home.

Heading back to the Manor was out of the question; it wastoo late, and the streets were swallowed by darkness. So, Dve drove us to Igor’s condo instead.

To be honest, I was craving some rest and eager to shake off the lingering effects of the booze, so I couldn’t wait to hit my bed.

Igor broke the silence abruptly. “She’s hands-off, sons. I don’t want any of you fucking around with that poor girl. I definitely don’t want to give that bastard any reason to screw up our deal or feel like he’s got something on me.”

Fucking a partner’s daughter was always a nasty business and, in our world, it was a surefire way to start a war.

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