Page 95 of Twisted Hearts

And therein lies the problem.

I might be biologically Kristina Reznikov’s son. I might co-helm the empire with Konstantin. But legally speaking, Vadim adopted me, making me his family. Given that he has no other relatives aside from his sister Svetlana, it now means that miserable bitch is—technically speaking—my only living family.

Which means the company, according to that shit wording, technically belongs to meandthe devil-cunt herself. And given that she can prove I purposefully denied her money Vadim left her, it puts me at fault, and allows her to take full control.

UnlessI had other family.

Unfortunately, Konstantin doesn’t count, as there’s no legal record of Kristina being my mother. A blood test would prove it, but the horrible irony is that by being a good, decent man and legally adopting me, Vadim’s sort of fucked me over here. Because now that adoptive son status outranks my half-sibling relationship to Konstantin.

Long story short, if I want to stop Svetlana, I need a family.

“If there’s no egg, Gavan,” Taylor says quietly, “then we’re in big trouble. But we’ve been over this before. Justfindsomeone. Literally anyone.”

There’s the final twist: legally speaking, “family” can just mean “wife”.

“Walk out of your office right now and find someone on the street. Or your secretary, for fuck’s sake!” Taylor pleads. “I’ll draw up a contract and abulletproofprenup. It would just have to last a few months to hold up to a court examination, and then this would all be over. You’d probably have to pay Svet some money, I won’t lie. But the company and Koikov would stay firmly in your hands.”

I close my eyes. Taylor exhales.

“This doesn’t have to be hard, Gavan. Just find someone. Anyone. Literally a stranger will do.”

Slowly, my lips curl at the edges into a dark grin.

“Thanks, Taylor.”

“Wait. Gavan—”

I hang up, my pulse thudding loudly in my ears.

I don’t need a stranger.

I have Eilish.

22

EILISH

I’m furious.But I’m almost more furious atmyselffor even being furious in the first place. And Ihatethat I broke down like that on the street in front of that…that…cunt. Whoever the hell she is.

A dark green monster churns inside me as I remember her words.

“I taught him everything he knows. You’re welcome.”

Jesus Christ, I want to go back to that moment and stab her in the fucking eyes. Then I take a breath and try and clear the rage from my system.

I mean, what the fuck. What am I,jealous? Gavan and I arenota couple. He’s not my fucking boyfriend. We’re not “going steady”.

We’ve never once had a conversation about whether or not we were exclusive, even within the context of our arrangement. And I mean, the reality is, Gavan’s a ridiculously handsome, dark and brooding, insanely powerful and wealthy guy in New York.

What stings the most is how naive I was to be blind to the fact that he’d have a whole harem of women out there who blush like I do when he beckons with those two fingers. Who drop to their knees and moan when he asks. Who—

“Whoo hoo! Elsa’s here!”

I blink, mercifully ripped from the swirling black downward spiral of my thoughts at the sound of Callie’s voice.

Seriously, fuckGavan. And fuck that raging cunt who tried to be as shitty as possible to me yesterday.

Shaken from my sour thoughts, I look up and force a smile when Elsa Guin walks into Fort Defiance, one of my favorite brunch spots in New York even if it is way the fuck out in Red Hook. I haven’t told Callie in so many words what happened yesterday. But she knows something’s up. And she’s an amazing enough friend that she dragged me out here for their famous French toast drowning in mascarpone, maple syrup, and candied walnuts, washed down with their signature marmalade gin breakfast cocktail.

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