Page 58 of Merciless Queen

This time, I do look her way, spotting the flash of anger in her eyes. She’s no longer hurt by her uncle’s actions, but pissed: that much I can make from her demeanour. Letting Vanessa at him would solve another Volkov issue all while giving her a gift she’d beg me to repay.

“To get rid of you, which leaves the organization open for him. In turn for his help, we’d leave him alive.”

She grunts, seeming unsurprised by my answer. “Was that the truth?”

“Not at all. And that was another question, which makes it my turn. Why did you hate your father so much?”

Vanessa sniffles and instantly turns her body, facing the window and the city of Rome we’re soon getting sucked into. We’re three blocks away from the Coliseum, and based on her lean to see at that precise angle, it’s what she’s looking at.

She never speaks. Never answers. Guess I’m not getting that truth…yet.

I watch her for longer than I’d care to admit, as she takes in my country. I can all but see her cataloguing the differences between Rome and Moscow. She’s pressed far to the other side of the vehicle, and if she wasn’t cuffed beside a locked door, I’d be worried about her rolling out. I’m becoming jealous of the window she’s leaning into.

The trip takes another thirty minutes before my driver pulls off onto a country road, and Vanessa lets out a low gasp as my villa, as well as the lands it sits on, comes into view. It’s notmuch smaller than her own, but more open. While her property is surrounded by forestry, mine’s a vast open grassy field.

The car stops right where the road connects with the grass, where a stone walking path will take us the rest of the way. Madre never liked when cars drove up to the front door, and it’s a pattern I kept long after she moved out.

I slide out the back door, brushing a hand over the gun I’ve had against my hip the entire trip. Always in reaching distance in case she decided to try something. Surprisingly, in the time it’s taken me to get out, she’s also slid to the edge of her seat, a foot coming down to rest beside me.

A low breeze blows through the emerald grass and greets us. There’s nothing better than Italian landscapes and air, though I’m sure the woman beside me would disagree.

“Come.” I take a step toward the path, expecting her to disobey. Instead, her shoes make a soft thudding noise as they land on the pebbled driveway, and that’s my first mental note. She hasn’t fought since the plane, which makes me wonder why she’s not even trying.

I lead her up the path and toward the sandy-coloured villa. The pillars and arches by the front entrance never fail to make my heart sting. The flash of a woman clinging to them, sobbing and breaking down as her impossible grip refuses to release them in fear of returningthereflits through my mind.

Shaking my head, I push the image away. For once, it’s okay because now, the villain behind the trauma is burning in Hell, forced to witness his enemy steal his daughter.

As we approach the villa up and over the slight hill, I study the length of the outside, the nearby pool, and the garden on the other side, seeking Nero. I’d hoped he stayed away because I plan on isolating Vanessa for now. She’s tricky, and believing there’s people here to manipulate could be an annoyance for me, though entertaining to watch when Nero doesn’t take the bait.

Vanessa whistles as we get closer. Her attention is locked on the large pool by the side before returning to the upper floor of the villa. Unbeknownst to her, she’s staring right at my bedroom window.

“Too small?”

She blinks, and for a moment, her expression softens as she shakes her head. She reminds me of the girl snapped in old pictures taken shortly after Ursin’s death. Younger and more vulnerable.

“No,” she replies, and I believe her.

My casa isn’t small by any means, especially compared to regular, middle-class homes here in Rome, but when measuring up to her castle-like mansion, it’s merely the gardener’s shed.

“It’s lovely,” she continues, and based on the edge in her tone, she’s returning to defensive Vanessa. “Much prettier than what I pictured my cage looking like.”

“You’d know all about the ugliness within a pretty item.” I shoot her a meaningful look, causing her to scowl, her steps to slow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means, we might project one side of ourselves but within, we have to be ruthless for the good of our organizations.”

Her head draws back. “We.You’ve included yourself in that statement.”

As we near the front door, I angle my body, prepping to run after her should she take off. She’s been playing along so well but like a temperamental animal, who knows how long this behaviour will last.

Distracting her from our path, I keep her talking and reply, “Of course. It goes for any mob leader, wouldn’t you agree? We all have a role to play and ours is at the top. Mine. Yours. No matter what happened in the last seventy-two hours, Volkov, you’re a much better Pakhan than your father ever was.”

Shit. No. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Talk about playing my cards.

It wasn’t supposed to slip out. Any relatively positive perception of her needs to remain locked up tight before she finds some way of utilizing that to her benefit. But it’s out now. In the breeze that swirls around us, forever reminding me of yet another error I’ve made where Vanessa’s involved.

The sad fucking thing is, it’s not a lie. It’s not even due to the fact that Vanessa’s done nothing to my family, unlike her father who did everything. It’s what my spies and I have dug up over the last couple years. The changes in Bratva businesses might not have been accepted by all, but they’re honourable. The soldiers follow her out of choice and not fear. Other than Ivan, the Elite Ursin kept by his side have a history of disloyalty, even if he maybe wasn’t aware of that. Those men would turn on one another instantly all while continuing to spout bullshit about loyalty, while the three people closest to Vanessa, I firmly believe, would die for her. And she them, which today proved.

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