I knocked at the door, and after a second, and a firm, "???????," I pushed open the massive door of Vasya's office as requested and entered to where he sat on his usual chair, drinking tea.
I found the pakhan’s love for tea hilarious. He collected different flavors from all over the world and never shared them with anyone else.
"Want some tea, ???????" Well, except me. Somehow, he always invited me into his sacred ritual. I couldn't stand anything but water, coffee, and alcohol, so as usual, I declined politely. He rolled his lips together and motioned for me to sit. Choosing the chair right in front of him, I tried to think of a reason for his sudden call for me. I hadn't done anything wrong, and all my missions as Boevik were successful. "???? ????????, ??????." My brows furrowed, and I lifted my chin at his request for us to talk.
"??????" I asked of the nature of the talk he wanted. He opened the drawer next to him, picked up a manila folder, and threw it on the table.
"??????? ??? ? ??? ???? ??? ? ???? ??????. ? ????? ????? ???? ???????." His request for me to read it and to make the decision for myself filled me with dread.
Fear washed over me as I realized he'd found information on my brother when I asked him not to. What was the point in searching for a stranger? Yes, he was my brother. My twin. The connection never went away. But I couldn't imagine having anything in common with him anymore. I lived the life of crime. Was it fair to get him into it? Wherever he was, he probably lived a better life than I did and had since moved on.
Or at least I hoped as much, even if for some fucking reason the thought filled me with resentment. Locking my gaze with Vasya's, I told him in an even tone that I didn't want to know anything.
"????????, ? ???????," he instructed. Even though there was nothing to "sleep on," as I doubted I'd change my decision, I nodded and left the room. My legs almost ran toward my bike as my hands itched to grab the handlebars and enjoy the fucking ride.
I wouldn't read it.
I'd burn all the files.
Of course, I did neither. On the hill where my ride took me, I discovered that he lived as DamianandDominic, and enjoyed his fucking life as a rich heir. I learned how our parents had left us money. How he probably didn't have to care for anything.
How easily he replaced me.
Vasya's private investigator had done a good job, because probably half of the information was classified. I also got to read about the twins who escaped.
Later that night, I burned the file, although I'd memorized all the names and photos, and I locked all the information within my mind.
Until one day two years later, when I woke up feeling as though I was drowning, with intense pain in my chest.
That was the day I reached out to Connor, and the perception of what I thought I knew changed forever.
Rosa
“Dom, you have to let go of my hand. We’re late!” I tugged on our laced fingers, but he wouldn't budge as we stood on the beach of the beautiful ocean near the hotel Damian and Sapphire reserved for their wedding. Unfortunately for us, the weather in Moscow turned rainy, so the plane couldn't fly on time. The delay resulted in us barely making it to the wedding, with only three hours left for us to get ready.
In other words, insane.
Annoyed with his stubbornness, I hissed, “Seriously?”
He covered his mouth with mine, kissing me passionately, and before I knew it, I had my fingers tangled in his hair, ready to sell my soul for one more touch, when he let go of me.
“Behave.”
My eyes narrowed on him, while he chuckled. “You are the one who kissed me!”
“Just staking my claim,” he said calmly, as my brows furrowed, but the question died in my mouth as Dad’s gruff voice from behind called.
“Princess.” I spun around, and with a squeal, ran to my dad’s open arms. He caught me with a grunt, and despite the burns probably still hurting him, picked me up high as my arms wrapped tightly around his neck. “Glad to know you still love your old man.”
“Always, Daddy.”
He put me back on my feet and swirled me around, studying me from head to toe. “Gorgeous as usual.”
Blushing, I joked, “Jeans and shirt with no makeup, Dad.”
He gave me a clueless look, as Dominic growled, “Still gorgeous.”
Raising my hands in defeat, I did my own scanning, noticing the new burn scars and his bald head, as they had to shave his hair during surgery. “How are you feeling, Daddy?”
