Page 31 of Ruins
“I got the information you wanted on Vasilisa,” he says, taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of my desk and handing me the folder. He kicks his feet up onto my desk with a smirk. “We followed her to a charity event, she went with Jude Olsen, the son of the standing mayor. Apparently, they have been together for a couple of years.”
I open the folder to find it filled with photos and phone records. I quickly scan the first photo, seeing Vasilisa, trapped between a car and Jude Olsen, wearing a black dress that looks uncomfortable on her petite frame. The next photo shows her getting into an SUV, but I can’t make out who is sitting beside her.
“Who is she with in the SUV?”
“Pietro Ivanov, her former guard,” Luca answers. “He was reassigned to her sister that night according to Korsakov.”
I flip through more photos, each one showing Vasilisa with either Jude or Pietro by her side. In one photo, Pietro even has his lips pressed against her forehead, sending a tingle of unfamiliarity through me.
“Whatexactlyis their relationship?”
Luca chuckles, “As far as I know, just a guard. But he did accompany them to the bridal store.”
I raise an eyebrow and move on to the next photo, which shows Pietro admiring my soon-to-be wife as she tries on wedding dresses. A flash of anger washes over me before I take a deep breath to control myself and continue flipping through the folder. There are more photos of Vasilisa, shopping with Cassandra, some with her family… nothing out of the ordinary, but the ones of her alone with Ivanov give me pause, in some photos, they’re holding hands.
I slam the folder shut, my frustration boiling over. “Is she always this close with her guard?” I grit out.
Luca removes his feet from my desk and studies me. “I thought this was just an arrangement.”
“It is, but I don’t want my future wife still entangled with other men after our marriage,” I state firmly.
Luca nods in understanding. “From what I’ve observed, she only goes for his hand when her mother is around. She seems comfortable around him, and they may have formed some sort of attachment due to them being close in age, but there is no evidence of any physical relationship between them.”
“What else is in here?” I ask, gesturing to the folder.
“The photos hacked from her cellphone and taken from her socials, as well as contact information and text transcripts she has. As you can see, the texts with Pietro primarily consist of him asking for her location, with no personal topics discussed between them.”
I open the folder again and take in the photos, all of them are selfies or photos of Vasilisa and who I assume is her sister, the others are photos of her and thatJude. I flip through the text transcripts, noting Luca’s claims that the messages with Pietro are harmless. But my attention is drawn to the texts between Vasilisa and Jude, specifically the final one where he asks about her arranged marriage. Her response is a simple confirmation.
A small sense of satisfaction fills me as I close the folder and set it on my desk. A photo slips out, fluttering to the ground. I retrieve it, flipping it over—
And pause.
Vasilisa. A soft yellow dress. Sunlight framing her golden hair. She’s smiling—bright, open, untouched by the world I live in.
Something unfamiliar settles in my chest. I don’t know what to call it. But I do know one thing.
She is stunning.
Luca clears his throat, interrupting my thoughts. “Anything else, boss?” he asks, a sly smirk playing on his lips as he glances from my face to the photo in my hand.
“I want her phone. I need you to deliver her a new one that doesn't have access to her socialsorthe photos of her and the mayor’s son. The only contacts she needs to keep are familial, add my number and yours.”
I wave a hand dismissing him.
He chuckles knowingly before leaving without another word. I’m left alone with Vasilisa’s photo in my hand, wondering what she thinks of this whole arrangement. My work phone buzzes on the desk, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Mr. Amato, I have a list of potential candidates for the secretary position,” Sandra’s voice rings out through the speaker.
“Thank you Sandra, please email me the list.”
“Of course, sir,” she responds before hanging up.
I make a mental note to schedule interviews for a later date. Tonight, I have a meeting with Angelo at Exile, perhaps Maksim will be there, and I can ask him about this former guard of Vasilisa’s. Despite the innocent texts I’ve seen, Cassandra had mentioned the way he looks at Vasilisa. If Maksim is there, I’ll make sure to arrange a meeting with Pietro to clear up any misunderstandings about who Vasilisa now belongs to. I can’t explain this sudden need to assert my ownership over her, but as her future husband, I expect a certain level of respect when it comes to what’s mine.
***
Exile is busy most Friday evenings, but tonight seems especially bustling. I sit in VIP, high above the dance floor, with Angelo and Maksim. The two of them are three drinks in, the bottle service girls draped across them like ornaments. Their laughter blends with the bass thumping below, drowning out any actual conversation we came here to have.
