Page 2 of Hateful Vows
“Then, I need to kill him.”
“Don’t you dare. Last time, it took us months to find someone as loyal, well trained and silent.”
“Jivko’s only silent because you cut out his tongue, Irina.”
He looks up at me caustically and I hold his dark gaze. “Your point?”
Shaking his head, my brother goes back to his shake. His throat bobs, the spider tattoo inked on his throat shifting withthe movement. This time, I avert my eyes, berating myself for pining after the only man I’ve ever wanted and can never have.
Every time I know he picks up a girl from a gala, a party, or whatever event we go to, it’s the same ritual. I get green with jealousy, fuck any random asshole who tells me I’m pretty—and there are many—crash his morning routine, have my cat pee somewhere that will annoy him or his ‘date’, and do it all over again a few days later.
My phone rings again, the same caller on the screen, and I grimace.
“Who is it?” Aleksei asks, his tone gruff and demanding.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Your sex life is of little interest to me, Irina.”
He stares me down like I’m nothing but a misbehaving child, and the need to send him off-kilter is too strong to resist. “Your father has called me twice now,” I say, proud that my voice doesn’t waver despite the fear coursing through me.
The click of his tongue is the only indicator that something’s wrong. We both know when Ivan Dobrev calls on me, it’s not for a visit of courtesy.
TWO
ALEKSEI
Ibarely registered the protests of last night's mistake as my dear sister kicked her out of my flat. Contrarily, Irina’s very presence and her heady Shalimar perfume threaten to unravel all the secrets I keep buried for her own safety. I can never let myself even think of them. Someone is bound to use it against me, and I’ve learnt the cost of weakness a long time ago.
I read the text from my right-hand man, Ilia. The news he shares is worrisome. Our leader, Moscow’sPakhan, has left the London Bratva to be self-governed for years. Ever since my father married Irina’s mother and returned to his territory with a wife and a daughter in tow fifteen years ago, Misha Petrov has never bothered to come visit, or check on my father’s business. The fact that he’s now coming for the second time in less than six months doesn’t bode well.
My frown deepens as Irina’s phone rings and she tells me my father is calling her. Foreboding is a snake slithering into me. Even if it would have killed me inside, I’d rather it’d be a lover calling her for a repeat, though I know she shares her body but never her bed.
The vile creature she carries everywhere jumps next to me, butting my hand with its head for a pet as if sensing I needcalming. I stroke its soft black fur absentmindedly, clicking my tongue in annoyance. It seems I can never escape the spawn of Satan. Or his mother.
The cat purrs, completely unbothered.
“What is it?” Irina’s voice comes out as a command more than a question and I sigh in aggravation.
“Why are you still here?” I feign to ignore her. I wouldn’t be able to even if I were deaf, blind and lost my sense of smell. Her very presence is written in the fabric of my bones.
“Your frown’s deeper than usual. It makes your scars pop,Lyosha.”
I grind my molars at the nickname, a short version of Aleksei. She never uses it when we’re in public or in front of our parents, but that’s what Irina has called me ever since she was fifteen, moving into our house from Russia, not knowing a single person beside her useless mother. Even then, I couldn't refuse her a thing. Now that she’s grown into a vicious snake, I pick my battles carefully. This one isn’t the one I’ll win.
“And I know how much you love the reminder of what you owe me,” I taunt, satisfied when a muscle clenches on her set jaw. “Ilia texted. Petrov is landing this afternoon.”
“Whatever the hell for? The bastard has never set foot in the UK and now he’s visited twice.”
“Exactly.”
I stand and rinse my shaker and cup of coffee before dropping them into the dishwasher, then don my suit jacket in silence. My movements are controlled as I clasp a watch around my wrist, hiding yet another scar inflicted upon me by the same bastard who gave me all the other ones that litter my body and face. The same man I’m about to spend too much time in close proximity with.
When I move for the door, Irina’s heels echo in the silent living room, just behind me. I whirl around, our faces inches apart. “You’re staying here.”
“Absolutely not, Aleksei.”
“For once in your life, listen to me, Irina. My father calling you is bad news. Petrov being here is even worse. You don’t know what he’s capable of, but I do. My father is a walk in the park in comparison. Don’t make yourself a target.” I add the last part through clenched teeth.
