CLARA ROSSI

I hated my dad.

Pretending to be a saint, when he inflicted the worst kind of suffering on so many for so long.

And what he'd done to Volkov's mom? Ate me from the inside like maggots.

It blew my mind that Volkov didn't hold it against me though. Yes, he'd been unfair to forcefully marry me. But I couldn't imagine what I would've done in his shoes.

To witness your mom's murder at sixteen. To defend your loved ones that same day. To barely survive. To become the new don while you're barely grieving. While the man who ruined your life was worshipped by the world. The world that thought the worst of you.

The hatred I used to feel towards him shifted into respect. Both as a survivor and a leader.

While he recovered from the gun shot, I took care of the baby deer he'd given me.

But I didn't stop there.

I applied to a company called Rebel Ink. A scandalous media publisher known for exposing high-ranking officials on a global scale.

And while they hired me purely because of my last name, little did they know...

My whole life, I prayed and hoped that my dad would let me carry his legacy...

Now?

I was going to burn it to the ground.

And when the world knew who he was and what he had done, I would build my empire on top of its ashes.

~

Two weeks passed, marking the end of our honeymoon. We flew back to the townhouse, where Volkov continued to anxiously wait for Marko to reach out.

It was a late Wednesday afternoon. Irina and Aida were cooking dinner, and I was bored. The aroma of bubbling tomato sauce and spices wafted the air. On the kitchen table, a mountain of fresh herbs and root vegetables waited to be chopped and peeled.

"Can I help?" I asked, startling them mid-gossip.

They paused, staring at me like I was an alien.

"You?" Irina scrunched her face. "You cook?"

I shrugged with a chuckle. "Do you mind?"

"No..." Her face told me otherwise. She looked at Aida for a second opinion, who shrugged. "You know how to peel potatoes?"

I snorted, picking the least damaged ones from the plastic shopping bag. "How many?"

Thirty minutes later, my hands were stained red from handling beets, and a large pot of soup was bubbling on the stovetop.

I'd never tried this recipe before. It involved chunks of beef, with cabbage and carrots. Rich. Nourishing. And apparently, Volkov's favorite.

While I tried to forget that I was cooking my husband's favorite soup, the front door suddenly opened.

A redhead in a nude dress waved at us briefly, before strutting upstairs.

To his room.

"Oh my God. She's back?" Aida whispered urgently in Russian. "But his wife is right here!"

I see. So that was the woman Volkov was fucking a day after I tried to poison him. Pretending to not understand them, I kept my head down and continued setting the table.

"I don't know..." Irina sighed.

"That's fucked up."

"Why? It's not like they're really married. They don't love each other."

Aida scoffed. "Are you crazy? She's SO pretty! They'd make such cute babies."

I almost tripped and dropped the stack of bowls in my hands.

"A pretty face means nothing. That's just attraction. Daniel is more complicated than that."

"I don't care. It's still not okay. It's disrespectful towards his wife!"

"I don't think she cares much."

I absolutely didn't.

"I would." Aida pouted. "If he falls for her later, she won't trust him! That's bad."

"Daniel is not like that." Irina tossed dried bay leafs in the pot, then a handful of minced parsley. "I've known him since he was little. Yes, he can be difficult and hard to understand sometimes. But no one is loyal like him." She smiled. "Once he cares for you? Once he loves you? That's it. Doesn't matter if you feel the same way. He'll give you everything."

Oddly, a part of me believed that.

Maybe because I knew now he'd taken a bullet into his shoulder, but never asked Niko to do the same. Plus, Andrei and Charlotte never hesitated to speak their mind, even though he was their boss. And despite how much he frustrated them, they jumped to his aid in a heartbeat.

The door upstairs slammed so hard, it shook the house.

Heels stomped down. The redhead who entered the house moment ago with a gloating smirk now looked furious.

She whipped the front door wide open, only to find Charlotte on the other side.

"Hello—" Charlotte tried to say, but the redhead pushed past, shoving her shoulder. "Whoa—"

Laughing at the theatrics, Charlotte shut the door behind her and looked up. She froze in her tracks upon finding me in the kitchen.

"What are you doing?" Her suspicious eyes narrowed into slits.

"Poisoning your food," I said with a dead serious expression. "You hungry?"

As if on cue, Volkov joined us downstairs. He wore black jeans and a black shirt, his arm in a sling. Although he moved more easily now.

My heart did a weird jolt from his presence. Maybe because we hadn't talked much, ever since returning the fawn to the shelter in Mexico.

He paused with the same surprised look as Charlotte and asked me. "What are you doing?"

"Crying over you cheating on me." I glanced at Aida's horrified and Irina's deadpanning faces. "But then again, if you can't last more than five minutes, I'm not missing out on much. Am I?"

The last thing I was expecting was for Charlotte to throw her head back and cackle. Even Irina and Aida tried their best not to laugh.

Me? I held Volkov's challenging gaze, my lips tempted to tug in one corner. He noticed.

Something dark and amused shifted his tone. "I need to talk to you."

My confidence faltered. "Right now?"

"Right now." He turned to go back upstairs.

"Good luuuck." Aida sang, flinching at the half-hearted scowl I threw at her.

I followed Volkov. He led me to his office. A sleek black desk stretched on the left. Behind it, shelved lined the dark walls with books and knick-knacks, under dim amber lights. On the right side, a fireplace with two brown leather armchairs. But my favorite part were the two windows overlooking the dense pine forest.

The scent of sandalwood momentarily stole my focus. Like a drug, I wanted to soak it deep inside my lungs. God. It wasn't just sandalwood, though. It was...

My breath caught in my throat when I realized it was Volkov.

The sunset from the large window was caressing his profile, glowing in the green and golden depths of his hazel eyes. He cocked a curious head at me with a wicked smile.

"Does it bother you?"

"What?" My pulse quickened.

"That she came over..." He took a step closer. "Does it bother you?"

"I—" I laughed, but it didn't sound convincing. Embarrassment flooded my cheeks and I glared at him for causing it. "Why the hell would it bother me?"

Another step and my back pressed against the door.

"Then why make that joke?"

"I didn't know you're so sensitive about your performance."

An eye-roll had no business being so God damn attractive.

"Is there a reason you bothered me?" I asked.

"There is. I was going to get to that—you do know, I didn't sleep with her though. Right?"

"And I should care because..."

His gaze bounced between my eyes, then to my mouth. Then to my throat. As if he could see my pulse pounding beneath the skin.

My chest rose up and down with shallow breaths from the thick tension in the room.

"Marko called." He changed the subject.

"That's great news, no?"

"He invited us for dinner. All of us. This Friday."

From the muscle in his jaw, I couldn't decode if he was happy about that. "Okay..."

"You don't have to come, if you don't want to."

My confusion only deepened. "Why wouldn't I want to?"

"Because." He looked away and exhaled through his nose. "Obviously he has some kind of a sick crush on you...I'm sure if he gets drunk, he might get handsy. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

"Wouldn't it be easier to hack his phone if he's distracted with me?"

"Not necessarily. No."

The way his tone shrank and his gaze darted...

"You're lying." I realized.

"I'm not."

"You are."

He turned away and marched toward his desk.

"I'm not."

"Are you worried that he might take it too far? You'll be with me, no? It's not like I'm going to be alone with him in a room."

"Still, it doesn't matter. I can figure it out without you there. Don't worry."

"Then why would you tell me?" I stepped forward, my voice rising with anger. "So that I can convince you to let me go? I thought we're past that. I thought you wanted my help."

"I want a lot of things. It doesn't mean I always get them." There was something in his tone. Sadness that lurked around all that authority, too afraid to come out. "You've been through a lot lately. I'm not trying to use you as an object to seduce your dad's friend, Clara. I thought you'd be relieved that I don't want you to go. I don't know why you're so mad right now."

"I'm mad, because you got shot to make this happen, and you don't think I have the balls to handle a little bit of unwanted touching or flirting or whatever the fuck that creep wants to do." Even voicing the possible outcomes made my skin crawl with disgust. "It is nothing compared to what's happening to others. I will help. Gladly. I want to."

He froze behind his desk, his expression a mixture of anger and shock and...awe?

I watched his neck work as he swallowed whatever thought or emotion wanted to escape. When he spoke, his voice had gone quiet.

"Fine."

"Fine." My brows furrowed. He was such a puzzle sometimes. "Okay. So..."

"We'll have to act like a couple."

"Naturally." Which made me realize, I needed a dress. "Um..."

He lifted an impatient eyebrow. "What?"

"I need to borrow some money..." It was so awkward to ask.

"You have access to everything I own, Clara. You don't have to ask. Just take what you need."

Heat spread on my cheeks at how effortlessly he said that. Not to show off or impress me, but as a simple fact, like it was obvious.

My eyes lingered on the outline of his muscular back as he turned to unlock a safe.

"I'll ask Grigor and Artiom to drive you wherever you have to go."

"I don't need bodyguards breathing down my neck."

"They're there to protect you, in case something happens. You're not married to a normal guy. A lot of people want me killed."

He walked back to me, holding a stack of cash. Ten thousand dollars to be exact.

"I'll pay you back." I frowned, reaching to take the money.

"It's not a loan."

"I don't care. I got a job. So I'll pay you back little by little, when I get my paycheck."

He scowled. "What job?"

"Not everyone wants to be a don, Volkov." I tried to lighten the mood.

"Not everyone can be. Where did you get a job?"

"At a publishing company." I casually shrugged, only because it seemed to piss him off, and for some reason, I enjoyed that a little bit.

"What's it called?"

"Rebel Ink."

"What do you plan to do there?"

"Whatever I please."

His face hardened into what many would consider a threat. "Care to be more specific?"

"Nope." I smiled sweetly, whirling to leave the office.

"Take Charlotte with you."

I halted. "Um...the Charlotte who can't stand me?"

"She means well."

"Last time she meant well, I almost broke her nose." I rolled my eyes over my shoulder, though the resentment was half-hearted. She was only trying to protect Volkov from my attack at the time.

"I have no doubt she's over that by now. Don't you remember how you two met? She dragged you into this house." He opened the door for me to let me out. "Just give her a shot. How would you feel if your brother had to marry someone just for politics?"

"Yeah, it was really sad when you had to traumatize me. You okay?"

He laughed low in his throat. "Like I said, you guys will get along. Go, now. Don't forget to buy some crotchless panties."

His smile brightened when I shot him a glare. And as I pivoted to leave, I could feel his gaze warming my back.

Perhaps this sexual attraction between us a was a good thing. It'd be easier to deceive others in public. But behind closed doors? In forced proximity? Now that was dangerous.

~

It was embarrassing to admit how intimidated I was by Charlotte.

I found her giggling mid-conversation in the living room with Andrei.

In girl code, that laugh only meant one thing. She had a crush on her brother's best friend. I could sense her dumb butterflies ten feet away.

"I'm going shopping," I announced. "Want to come?"

If it was nighttime, you'd hear crickets.

Charlotte broke the silence first. "Uh, together?"

"Apparently."

When she remained speechlessly confused, I waved the stack of cash in front of my face.

"A treat from the boss."

She scoffed, looking at Andrei like I was some kind of an inside joke.

Thank fuck Andrei was on my side. "Just go. What's the worst thing that could happen?"

She sighed like I asked her to carry me up the mountain. "Fine, let's go."

The car ride with Grigor and Andrei was the definition of awkward. I'd never had bodyguards before, but at least they didn't talk to us. They were quite respectful, actually.

Glancing at Charlotte beside me, a part of me was thankful Volkov forced us to hang out.

Besides my mom and Nana, I never had a close relationship with the same gender. It just never happened naturally. And Charlotte was no exception. Even the way she dressed seemed the opposite of my style.

I liked loose and soft materials. Like right now, I wore a satin slip dress with a cashmere cardigan. Not the most stylish choice, but it put me at ease.

Charlotte wore skin tight jeans and a low cut top, and she looked smoking hot. But she also made me feel like she wouldn't hesitate to shove my head in the toilet if I offended her.

From the side-glance she pointed at me, she thought the same.

"Where do you shop?" she asked.

"Sex shops. You?"

A hint of amusement twitched her mouth. "Me too."

Grigor and Artiom were not breathing from the front.

I decided to break the ice further. "That's great. We should stop by a sex shop first, then. Volkov keeps telling me he wants new crotchless panties. His old ones no longer fit him."

Charlotte snickered, her honey-brown eyes sparkling.

"Seriously? I just got him a new pair for his birthday. How many more does he need?"

We continued roasting the don for the rest of the drive. I hoped Grigor and Artiom paid attention to everything and traveled the gossip far.

But the best part was yet to come.

Charlotte told me that Volkov hated velvet. Couldn't stand the feeling of the texture.

So that's what I bought.

A/N
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