However, she’s too uptight and would probably run at the first sight of my brand of fuckery and disturbed sexual tastes.
Annika pales, realizing her friend is in immediate danger of falling victim to my wrath, and pushes her away. “It’s okay. I’ll go back.”
Cecily finally slides her attention away from me to focus on my sister. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I want to, really. It’s not worth it.”
“Walk in front of me, Anoushka.” We’re done here.
For more reasons than one.
If this Cecily takes my leniency as approval and keeps provoking me, she’ll get my attention, and no one wants that.
Annika bows her head and murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
Then she falls in step beside me. Killian stays behind, seeming too interested in Glyndon to have actually paid attention to the whole ordeal.
I’m only starting to cool down when Cecily catches up to us and interlinks her arm with Annika’s. I cast her a fleeting glance that she returns with a glare.
This fucking…
“I’m going back with you, Anni,” she tells my sister.
“You don’t have to. I’m fine to be on my own.” Her voice lowers. “I’m used to this.”
“Well, I’m not. This is highly oppressive behavior.” She stares at me. Again.
“I’ll ask for your opinion when I find any fucks to give,” I tell her point-blank.
She’s about to speak, but Annika slaps a hand over her mouth, putting whatever retort she had to an abrupt end.
I usher my sister into the car, and Cecily follows her into the back seat. She glares at me through the rearview mirror during the entire car ride, even as Annika tries to change the subject and drive away the tension.
Me?
I want to see how those glittery green eyes would look when she’s being pounded into within an inch of her life.
The hassle isn’t worth it, though.
I slide my finger up and down the steering wheel, summoning patience I don’t usually need in situations like these.
When we reach the dorm, Annika jumps out of the car and Cecily follows.
I roll down the window and say, “No more roaming around in dangerous places, Anoushka.”
“Okay!” she says and practically runs inside.
Cecily, however, faces me and crosses her arms, causing her breasts to perk and strain against the fabric of her T-shirt.
“I suggest you tone down the patriarchal tone. Doesn’t look good in this day and age.”
“I suggest you mind your own business. Busybody is a horrible description to have.”
She narrows her eyes. “You—”
“Don’t.”
She swallows, and the translucent skin of her throat works up and down with the motion. “You didn’t even hear what I have to say.”
“No need to. If you keep talking, I’ll take it personally, and believe me, you don’t want that.”
Her body stiffens, and I’m not sure if it’s because of my nonnegotiable tone or the look she must see written all over my face, but she doesn’t push it.
What she does do, however, is throw me a condescending glare, then slip into the dorm.
My lips curve because I’m so tempted to drag her into my lair.
Kicking.
Screaming.
And everything in between.
40
ADRIAN
I realize something is wrong the moment I land at the airport.
People often say there’s no such thing as a sixth sense and that having the ability to predict danger is a mere myth invented by superstitious, evil-spirit believers.
However, that sixth sense is what alerted me to something being amiss and enabled me to take countermeasures. That, and my tight grip on critical information and the enemy’s sore, weak spots.
There’s no such thing as a perfect defense. Not even fort-like houses, encrypted security, or armies of guards. The only way to eliminate hazards and protect those who matter is to gather as much intel as possible about the right people.
The people who wouldn’t dare to cross me. Because they’re afraid they have a spy in their ranks who’ll slice their throat before they can reach me.
This is how I’ve managed to effectively protect my family for decades. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve uncovered a plot way before its execution and swiftly put an end to it before it happened.
No one but my senior guards knows about these attempts. Certainly not my wife. As much as she’s integrated into my lifestyle, I don’t want to worry her over pests that I’ve already taken care of.
And because information is essential, I taught my children from a young age to acquire as much intel as possible, not only about their enemies but also their friends, entourage, and guards.
Basically, anyone who crosses their paths.
If they know the people they’re dealing with, they’ll be able to avoid any malicious intent and even destroy the conflict before it arises.
That talent comes naturally to my son. He’s fully aware of everything in his surroundings and goes the extra mile to implement that principle in his everyday life.
Annika might have been sheltered, but she can also get any information she sets out to obtain through her people skills. It’s how she’s managed to survive in our world all this time.
I trust my children’s survival skills, even when I’m not around. I still wish they depended on me for protection, but I knew there would be a day when they’d take their own paths in life.
Despite that trust, I can sense that something has gone awry during the time I was on my way here from the States.
I share a look with my senior guard, Kolya, and he nods, probably getting the same feeling as me.
“Sir.”
I stop at the entrance of the mansion in which my son stays. A younger man, probably a few years younger than Jeremy, greets us at the door. He has a muscular build, light blond hair, small blue eyes, and angular features.
He’s not one of the guards I sent with Jeremy when he first came to this bleak island that shares England’s irritating weather and the English’s bland manners.
There’s no need for questioning, because I know exactly who he is. Kolya and I have been keeping an eye on him ever since Jeremy informed me of his existence.
“Ilya Levitsky,” I say his name with an edge to my calm voice.
His body stiffens in an erect position, probably realizing that all the rumors he’s heard about me are true.
“Sir, yes, sir.”
Kolya circles him like a giant cat who’s about to devour a cub and asks him in a rough Russian accent, “Age.”
“Twenty-one, sir.”
“Parents’ occupations.”
“They’re both dead.”
“Place of birth.”
“Saint Petersburg.”
“How did you get onto this island?”
“Scholarship.”
“Why did you join the Serpents?”
“I didn’t want to go back to my previous life in Russia, and I thought if I joined the New York Bratva, then I’d secure my future.”
“Reasons for defecting and choosing Jeremy.”
“He saved my life when he didn’t have to. He also taught me that I can take my fate into my own hands, and if I fail, so be it. I can always try again.”
“Military experience.”
“One year.”
“Too little.” Kolya tsks. “That might as well be considered nothing.”
“I’m open to enrolling again after college.”