I really shouldn’t be eavesdropping for a second time. But before I can stop myself and I pause just outside of view, the door swings open, and I flinch like a guilty child caught with a hand in the cookie jar.
Sergei steps out into the hallway first.
He looks exactly as he did the first night I stumbled into his path—tall, composed, eyes like winter steel. His suit coat falls open slightly, revealing a crisp shirt and a tailored vest beneath. His gaze lands on me within seconds, pinning me in place just like the last time he caught me snooping.
Flanking him are three men I don’t recognize. All of them wear tailored coats and polished shoes, their clothes as impeccable as Sergei’s, but their presence is… strangely different. There’s an energy to them, a coiled tension like leashed wolves, that makes the small hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
One man has a faint scar that curves along his temple, disappearing into his hairline. He moves with the sort of calculated grace that suggests he’s used to violence, maybe even welcomes it. Another, older with an expression carved from stone. He doesn’t glance my way, but I can feel the chill of his disinterest, telling me he wouldn’t hesitate to step over my corpse if it didn’t serve him.
And then there’s the third.
The last man.
Younger than the others, maybe early thirties, with dark hair swept neatly back and a slight curve to his mouth, tugging at the corner of his lips. He’s watching me, has been ever since the door opened and they all stepped out.
His eyes move over me slowly, the way a predator assesses something before deciding whether or not to pounce. His hands are gloved, his posture relaxed, but nothing about him feels safe.
That cold prickle of unease blooms into something deeper, making my gut twist.
“Miss Bennett,” Sergei says, voice sharp enough to make me jump. It cuts cleanly through the charged moment, dragging my gaze back to him. He doesn’t look irritated, but he doesn’t look pleased, either.
I wonder if he’s always like this or if the presence of these men demands that he show no emotion. No cracks in the façade.
“Where is my daughter?”
It takes me a moment to remember how to speak. I clear my throat and offer a quick, polite smile, though it feels tight andthin on my face. “Um, outside. In the garden. We were taking a break from lessons and I thought I’d grab us something to eat.”
His eyes flick past me, toward the kitchen, then they slide back.
“I see.” His voice is cool, but not unkind, strangely. “Put in an order with the kitchen staff. They’ll bring it out to you.”
There’s no threat in his voice—nothing overt, at least. Just a command dressed up politely, but I understand instantly what it is, just like I did when he told me to go back to my room after catching me snooping.
“Yes. Thank you. I will,” I say, dipping my head quickly.
I mean to turn around and walk away, and really, I have every intention to, but I feel that stare again, heavy on my face, and can’t help but look over again.
The younger man is still watching me. Unlike the others, he hasn’t looked away out of disinterest. His head tilts slightly, almost curiously, but there’s something unsettling in the way his mouth tugs into that faint smirk.
Like he knows something I don’t.
It makes my blood run cold.
“Go on,” Sergei says.
I spin on my heels and walk briskly down the hall toward the kitchen, the echo of my footsteps louder than I want them to be. The moment I round the corner and put some distance between us, I exhale a shaky breath and press my palm to my chest as if that will somehow still my racing heart.
Whowerethose men? Friends? Business associates? Bodyguards?
I’m not naive enough to think they were harmless. Everything about them screams danger. The way Sergei stood at the center of them, commanding the space with little effort, only confirms what I’ve been trying not to admit. This isn’t a normal job.
This isn’t a normal house with normal staff and a man at the head of it running some simple business.
I need to be careful or else I’m going to find myself entangled in something I doubt I’ll survive.
“Miss Ivy?” I hear Yulia’s voice traveling down the hallway I’d just escaped from.
And then, there’s a loud gasp.
