It's a good plan. But there's a problem Yuri isn't addressing, and I can't keep quiet about it any longer.
"But Vivika isn't ready," I say. "She's learning, she's trying, but she's not going to pass as the real Ana up close. Yaros has spent his entire life at his sister's side. He'll see through her in five seconds flat."
Yuri's eyes narrow. "Then make her ready."
"I'm trying. But there's only so much I can do in?—"
"The plan goes forward according to schedule." Yuri's voice cuts through my objection like a hot knife through butter. "We make a public appearance with Ana in two days' time to test the waters and see how Yaros responds. If nothing else, his allies will start pressuring him to speak to Ana."
The look in Yuri's eyes tells me the discussion's over. He's made his decision, and questioning it further will only make me look weak. I have to make Vivika ready and she has to be ready now.
"Understood," I say.
Yuri seems satisfied and rises from his desk. "I have calls to make. You two work out the details."
He leaves the study without another word, and I'm left alone with Fyodor and a folder full of intel that doesn't make me feel any better about what we're doing.
"You look worried," Fyodor says.
"I'm rightly concerned," I correct. I don't want him thinking I'm a coward. "Vivika's not ready. She looks like Ana, but she's not. Anyone who knew the real Donna is gonna see right through her."
"Maybe. Maybe not." Fyodor shrugs and props a foot up on Yuri's coffee table. "Yuri knows what he's doing. He's been playing this game longer than either of us have been alive. If he says the plan goes forward, then the plan goes forward."
I don't have time to waste sitting here bickering with him about possibilities.
"I should get back to her," I say, rising from my chair. "The wardrobe woman should be there by now."
Fyodor waits until I'm at the door before continuing. "Stick to the plan, Brother. Yuri knows what he's doing," he calls after me.
I leave without answering, my mind churning through everything I've just learned. Yaros is building a coalition behind Ana's back. The whole fucking Veche empire is built on a foundation of lies and betrayal. And Vivika's about to be thrust into the center of a war she doesn't even know she's fighting.
As I approach Vivika's door, I can hear voices coming from inside the room. I push open the door without knocking and freeze in the doorway at the sight that greets me.
Vivika stands in the center of the room in nothing but her bra and panties. Notherbra and panties—new ones. Sexy ones that have my dick pulsing instantly.
The wardrobe woman—a middle-aged lady with pins stuck in a cushion on her wrist—has a measuring tape stretched across Vivika's hips, her head bent in concentration as she notes the numbers in a small book. But I barely notice her.
My eyes are locked on Vivika, on the curves of her body, on the pale skin that seems to glow in the afternoon light streaming through the curtains. The way her tits round out that silk bra and push upward in a perfect fleshy curve that has me drooling.
She sees me and her face flushes, her arms coming up instinctively to cover herself. "I—we were just?—"
"Out," I say to the wardrobe woman, stalking toward the sight of all that skin exposed. I haven't forgotten my deadline, but fuck if I can't concentrate if she's gonna stand there like that.
The woman looks up, startled. "But I haven't finished the?—"
"I said out. Come back later."
She gathers her things quickly, sensing the dismissal in my tone, and scurries past me through the door. I close it behind her and turn back to Vivika, who's still standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
"You could've knocked," she mumbles sheepishly. There is never any fight in this woman. What the hell is wrong with her? Doesn’t she know she's supposed to snap and tell me what a pervert I am?
"I could've." I walk toward her slowly, letting my eyes travel over her body without shame. Holy fuck does, she do things to my body. I've seen plenty of naked women, strippers in clubs, and whores who want to throw themselves at me. But this… This is perfection. Like God himself created this masterpiece for my eyes alone. "But then I would've missed this."
Her flush deepens. "That's not—you can't just?—"
"You're beautiful," I growl, but I don’t touch her. Damn, do I want to touch her, though. "Has anyone ever told you that? How fucking beautiful you are?"
She stares at me with wide green eyes, her lips parted slightly, but she doesn't respond.
