7. Damian

7

DAMIAN

I sabella has always had the worst timing.

So, it hardly surprises me that she’d choose this moment to burst into my office without knocking. The one time I have a woman pressed against the wall, about to turn her around and fuck her senseless.

Then again, maybe it’s a good thing Isabella interrupted. That look on her face though, I could go without.

She looks almost smug, lips twisted up into a grin, eyes feigning innocence. I can feel Annalise tense in my grip, her breath hitching as we share a charged moment.

“Damian!” Isabella exclaims, eyes wide with curiosity. Her excitement is palpable, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’s intruding.

The truth is that I’m very different from either of the other Volkov brothers. Cassius is a known womanizer, and even Nikhil is known to dabble here and there, most times engaging in threesomes with Cassius. But me…? I’m more of a loner.

It’s not that I don’t like sex. I just don’t believe it can come with no strings attached from a woman, and I can’t have any strings. Not to mention, women can be used, and I refuse to have something happen because I let a woman trick me. My hand has been doing me just fine.

I have pretty good resolve, although I will admit that Annalise is the only woman who has ever made me question myself, who has made me want to remember just how good it feels to have a woman underneath me.

And something tells me she’d be willing to help me remember.

Isabella’s entire face changes once she’s able to get a good look at Annalise’s face.

I quickly release Annalise, putting space between us, the heat of our proximity lingering like a ghost. I can see the questions forming in Isabella’s eyes, and the last thing I want is for Annalise to find out the truth.

The more she knows, the more danger she’ll be in. Usually, I wouldn’t care, but out of respect for her sister, I can’t let anything happen to her.

“Annalise,” I command sharply, “get out. We’ll finish this another time.” The words are cold, devoid of emotion, but necessary. She doesn’t seem to understand why, but I don’t have time to explain. And, it’s clear she doesn’t need my explanation by the quick way she slips through the door, not looking back once, leaving me alone with my sister.

I think I’d prefer to be left alone with an enemy instead. My younger sister has to be the nosiest woman I’ve ever met. She asks more questions than even a monk would be able to patiently answer.

And I’m far from some kind of monk.

Isabella watches her leave, puzzled by the sudden change in atmosphere. I can see her trying to piece together what just happened, but I refuse to indulge her curiosity. This isn’t the time or place for such discussions.

“Isabella,” I say, my voice firm but controlled, “you need to learn to knock before entering. You don’t know what I could have been doing in here.”

“Sorry, Dami,” she replies with a smirk on her lips. “It’s not like I could have guessed you’d be getting funky with it in your office.”

“Isabella.” My voice is a warning, but it doesn’t affect her like it does everyone else because Isabella isn’t afraid of me. And if I’m being honest, she doesn’t have a reason to be. She’s my youngest sibling and my only sister, and probably the person I care about most in the world.

My dad always taught me that there’s nothing more important than family.

“Don’t you have a rule against dating people you work with?” She cocks her head to the side. “Especially girls who look like your dead ex-girlfriend.”

I take a deep breath. I should have seen that coming. Isabella isn’t exactly known for being coy…or keeping her mouth shut.

I walk back to my desk, sitting down in the chair. “I don’t want to talk about this, so if you don’t need anything else, leave.”

“Dami,” she says slowly, her voice tinged with disbelief. “You can’t possibly think I would leave it alone just like that because you asked me. That woman…she looks so much like Mikayla. You had to have known I would ask questions. I mean, who wouldn’t? That’s probably why you’re hiding her in here. Who is she?”

My heart stutters at the mention of Mikayla, but I force myself to remain impassive, unwilling to let my emotions betray me. I got over her death years ago, and I’m not going to let Isabella, or anyone else for that matter, send me down some kind of rabbit hole all over again.

“Isabella, don’t concern yourself with things you don’t understand,” I warn, my tone cold and controlled. “It’s not your place to question.”

In our families, women are supposed to be seen not heard, not as a form of oppression but out of respect. The head is in charge, and in this family, that’s me. Not that Isabella has ever respected me a day in her life.

“Oh, don’t try that with me,” she protests, her eyes wide and pleading, searching for answers she won’t find. “What’s her name?”

This is the only question I plan on answering, just to get her out of my hair. “Annalise.”

I should have known she wouldn’t be sated by me just answering one question. “How is she related to Mikayla?”

“Isabella, knock it off.”

“Just answer the question!”

“Enough!” I snap, cutting her off. My patience is wearing thin, and it takes all my restraint not to unleash my frustration on her. “This is not up for discussion. What happens in this office stays in this office. Do you understand?”

Isabella bites her lip, clearly unhappy with my response. She’s always been far too smart for her own good. “Damian,” she whispers, breaking the silence. “Is there something going on between you and Annalise?”

What do I have to do to make her just drop it?

“Absolutely not,” I reply sharply, cutting off any further speculation. “I don’t care to engage in anything with any woman, or did you forget that I’ll be married by the end of summer?”

“How could I forget?” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Petra. Even her name sounds evil. I mean, couldn’t you have picked someone…anyone better than her? She’s horrible. You’ll never be happy with her.”

Her words ignite a flicker of irritation within me. “Isabella, it’s not about happiness.”

My sister’s frustration at the mere mention of my arranged marriage is palpable, her eyes narrowing. “Damian, you don’t even love her,” Isabella spits out, her hands on her hips as she stares me down.

“There isn’t some ‘happily ever after’ like you read in your books. This is the real world, our dark world. Love is hardly an important factor in these situations,” I explain, maintaining a steady gaze. “The alliance with the Petrov family will bring strength and security to our bratva. It’s about ensuring the safety and stability of our family and those who rely on us.”

“So you don’t care about being happy?” She shakes her head as if she’s unable to believe what she’s hearing. “You know, there was a time when you used to be so happy, when you believed in the happily ever afters, but ever since Mikayla died?—”

“Don’t bring up her name!” I roar out, making Isabella flinch. “She’s dead. Leave her in the grave. And you need to start growing up and getting real because your fate is the same as mine. You’ll end up getting married off too.”

Her lips form a tight line, and I can see the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You can do whatever you want with your own life, but you can’t control mine.”

I laugh. “Oh, little sister, you still don’t know anything, do you? Your entire life revolves around our family, which means sometimes you’ll have to roll up your pretty little sleeves and do something you don’t want to do. My word is law around here, and if I need to marry you off to secure your future, then that’s what I’ll do. I don’t care about your happiness, Isabella. I care about your safety.”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at me, her face passive, but I can see all of the thoughts running through her mind.

“Is there anything else, Isabella?” I ask, eager to get back to work. I have an empire to run.

She hesitates, her fingers nervously twisting in the fabric of her dress. It’s clear she wants to say something more, but the fear of provoking another outburst keeps her silent. As much as I want to reassure her, I know that some barriers must remain in place, even between siblings.

“Actually,” she begins, her voice wavering slightly, “I came here to invite you out to lunch. Just the two of us.”

“Isabella,” I reply, struggling to keep my voice steady, “I appreciate the offer, but I have important work to do.” The words feel hollow, even to my own ears, but it’s the truth. As much as I long for the simpler times when we were children, I can’t afford to indulge in such fantasies now.

Everything that happens to this family relies solely on me.

“Maybe you could ask Cassius instead,” I suggest.

Isabella’s eyes flicker with disappointment, but she quickly hides it behind a mask of indifference. “Fine,” she says, her tone curt. “I’ll ask him.”

I watch her leave my office. As the door clicks shut behind her, I turn my attention back to the work that awaits me.