Page 52 of Beautiful Cruelty

So, opting to keep my flats on, I smooth down the dress and grab my crutches.

"I'm ready," I tell Lenka.

I expect her to object—surely Vadim specified that I wear the complete outfit. But she simply nods and with a mysterious smile, moves to open the door.

"Follow me, Ms. McKinney."

As we make our way down the ornate hallway, my crutches clicking against marble floors, curiosity gets the better of me.

"How long have you worked here, Lenka?"

"Decades. Long before Vadim Petrovich was born, when his father Pyotr ruled Pankration."

I catch the slight edge in her voice at Pyotr's name—the same tension I noticed in Vadim earlier. "What was he like? Pyotr, I mean."

"This place was a den of debauchery under the best circumstances." A shadow darkens Lenka's weathered features. "And a palace of pain and grief during the worst. Under Vadim Petrovich, it's taken on a shred of respectability that it never saw during Pyotr's time."

I can't help notice that she refuses to talk about Pyotr the person, but the effect he had on this place.

There has to be a story there…

"Is Vadim..." I hesitate, choosing my words carefully. "Is he anything like his father?"

"No." The answer comes quickly, definitively. "But he fears becoming like Pyotr. The very idea haunts him."

"Why?"

Lenka's steps slow. "That is not my story to tell. Only Vadim Petrovich can share those truths with you."

A wild thought suddenly strikes me as we arrive near a pair of doors and Lenka reaches out to open them.

"Lenka, are you... are you his mother?"

She stops completely and turns to face me.

"No,devushka. But I knew her when she was here." The mask of indifference finally cracks, and pain flashes across her face. "Of all the sad and cruel stories these walls bear witness to, hers was the saddest and cruelest of them all. Please, for the sake of both yourself and Vadim Petrovich, don't ask him to repeat it."

15

VADIM

The clickof crutches announces her arrival before I see her. When Lacey enters, my breath catches. The emerald dress hugs every curve, and makes her look even more alluring than before.

Her blonde hair falls loose around her shoulders, and those amber-flecked eyes lock onto mine with the unmistakable fire of defiance.

I notice that she's still wearing her custom-made flats instead of the heels I provided with the dress. And while this in anyone else would've annoyed me, somehow it only makes her seem more endearing.

She maneuvers to her seat on crutches, movement stiff yet graceful at the same time.

This woman is an enigma.

Lenka bows slightly and backs out, closing the heavy doors behind her. The soft click echoes through the formal dining room.

I remain standing until Lacey settles into her chair at the far end of the long mahogany table. A light spread of caviar and blini awaits us, along with chilled champagne.

"Why the distance?” Lacey's voice carries clearly across the distance. "Are you afraid I'll bite?"

"Given recent evidence, it's a legitimate concern." I show her the spot on my hand where her teeth left their mark earlier.

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