Page 32 of Depraved Royals

Just wait, Dani. You ain’t seen nothing yet.

13

Kal

Brutus is stuck like glue to Fyodor. Every minute of the day, he seems to be there, and I get the feeling the guy would love a reason to fuck me up, so my bloody vengeance has been forced to take a back seat.

I have to concede that Fyodor isn’t as stupid as I thought. Idina waxed lyrical for hours about her hated brother-in-law’s poor judgment and weak-minded morals, but I’m not seeing it. I thought I could connive my way into his home and murder him with little trouble, but I’ve been observing him, and there are things I definitely didn’t know.

Fyodor has a stoic gravitas that influences everyone around him. He talks to his people behind closed doors, and they do his bidding. The man never doubts and doesn’t expect the worst in others.

And he’sbesottedwith his girls.

I’m waiting for Dani. She’s been getting ready for an hour, and the rest of the Pushkins have already left.

I head into the lounge and refresh my vodka.

I gotta slow down. It’s my third drink, and I need to keep a level head for what I’ve got planned tonight.

I think about the scene in this room only an hour ago.

When I came in, Dani and her mother were eatingvareniki- Russian dumplings - with sour cream, and Fyodor was reading papers. I tried to keep out of things by sitting in an armchair and laughing at Marta’s jokes.

Dani cleared her plate and put it down. Her father looked at her over his paper.

“You done?” he asked.

I tensed up, waiting for the argument to start. Maybe he thought Dani had overeaten - this was always Idina’s favorite shitty little jibe whenever she felt like bringing Vera down. Or perhaps he got pissed off about something else, and she was in trouble for not reading his mind…

“It’s ok, Papa,” Dani said. “You’re busy. I’ll get more myself.”

“Nyet, dorogayay,” Fyodor said. He stood and walked out of the room, pausing to squeeze Dani’s shoulder as he passed.

In a minute, he was back with a fresh plate of dumplings. He handed it to Dani, and she laughed when she saw what he’d done.

“Papa! I’m going to be twenty-one in a few days! When will you decide I’m too old for this?”

I looked to see that Fyodor had arranged the dumplings into a face. Two eyes, a nose, and a mouth. A heap of sour cream and chopped chives made a beard.

Fyodor just smiled at her. “I’ll stop doing it when it doesn’t make you smile like that anymore.”

Marta chuckled, looking at her husband and rolling her eyes. He grinned and shrugged.

I was dumbfounded. Still am.

What the fuck kind of family is this?

Myfamily doesn’t go in for little games and affectionate gestures. We know things about each other, sure, but we keep that information in the memory vault, ready to pull it out when we want to hurt one another. My mother’s catalog of misused knowledge is so vast that it makes the Smithsonian look like a small-town library.

And Erik. My stepfather never shared a joke with me in his life. The only thing he ever found funny was when he roped me into his creative punishments. He would have me choose between me punching my brother or him doing it. I always preferred to be the one to hit Simeon because Erik would hitmuchharder.

But Erik always thought it was a hoot to watch.

“Hey.”

I turn to see Dani in the doorway. She gives a little twirl, and my breath catches in my throat.

Her burgundy velvet dress kisses the ground, split to mid-thigh. The high halter neck contrasts with the plunge in the back, and her hair is piled up in her head in an artfully messy jumble of curls.