Dima shook his head forlornly. “I don’t deserve this, Maks, and I sure as hell don’t fucking want it! You’re truly the leader between us.” Dima’s forehead fell against mine. “I only want to be your second,brat.”
Pinching my eyes shut, I concentrated fiercely on my words. If there was ever a time for me to not be weak and stutter, it was now. My father’s voice echoed through my brain.
You are weak.
You are defective.
You aren’t worthy of the Korolov Bratva.
You are less to me than your bastard brother.
“Leave…me,” I gritted out.
Anguish filled me as the words fumbled from my lips. Pinching my eyes shut, my head dropped in defeat. “P-Please,” I whispered.
An agonized cry escaped Dima’s lips. “I love you,brat.I can’t bear to lose you.”
Even though it wasn’t his fault, I wanted to hate Dima. I deserved to hate him and his perfection that had stolen my birthright.
But I couldn’t.
Popping my eyes open, I stared into his. With my jaw clenching from my effort, I smacked my chest. “I’m…your…second.”
Tears shimmered in Dima’s eyes. “You promise?”
“Da,” I choked out.
After grinding the tears from his eyes with his fists, Dima nodded. “Okay.”
He then pulled away from me. As he started down the hallway, I escaped into my room. After staggering over to the multicolored liquor bottles on my dresser, I grabbed the most expensive bottle of vodka.
I unscrewed the top and started to bring the bottle to my lips when I caught my reflection in the mirror. My father’s voice rang all around me.
Weak
Defective
Unworthy
Useless
With a snarl, I jerked my arm back before flinging the bottle at the mirror. The force shattered both the bottle and the mirror. As shards of glass sprayed over the dresser, I sank to my knees.
And for the first time all evening, I allowed the tears to flow down my cheeks.
CHAPTER ONE: MAKSIM
Twelve Years Later
As I stood under the scalding shower spray, I rolled my shoulders, desperately trying to find relief for my aching muscles. Over the last twenty-four hours, I’d overworked myself, and now my body was giving me grief.
Screaming at the top of its fucking lungs was more what it felt like.
A smile curved on my lips when I imagined what Dima would’ve said about the situation. “That’s what you get for fucking across hay bales in a corn maze!”
He’d probably throw in a quip about how at thirty, I was getting too old for shit like that. Of course, I could’ve argued the same to him. But he would’ve countered that he was a dead manwalking when it came to his arranged marriage, so he had to fuck random women while he could.
I’d been missing the bastard terribly since he’d just returned a few weeks ago after spending a six-month business trip in Moscow. He’d also met his future bride, whose father wasPahkanof an obscenely wealthy family. I’d flown over a few times to visit, but it wasn’t the same as having him in the same country, if not city.
