Page 166 of Vicious Games

“Then come on.” He hops up over the couch and places a hand over Frankie’s shoulder, leading her out the room.

I’m about to rip his arm off its socket when Frankie lets out an excited squeal, running towards the kitchen. The estate’s kitchen is massive, like something out of a cooking show. Marble counters, polished steel appliances, and a full staff preparing what looks like a feast for a king. The aroma of fresh herbs and roasted meat hits instantly, making my stomach growl and reminding me that I refused to eat anything on the plane, afraid it could be poisoned.

“Score!” Kostya yells, grabbing a golden pastry off the counter. “You have to try this.”

Frankie bites into one and moans. “This is incredible. What is it?”

“That’s pirozhki. It’s like heaven wrapped in dough,” he grins, while handing her a second one. “But don’t spoil your appetite,” he adds. “Misha will flip if any of this goes to waste. He has a thing about food.”

“Wait—Misha? As in Mikhail Petrov?” I ask, suddenly feeling a cold chill sweep down my spine.

“Who’s Mikhail Petrov?” Frankie asks, licking the crumbs from her lip.

Before Kostya can answer, the room shifts as Aleksandr enters the room.

“He’s thePakhan. The big boss of the Russian mafia,” I explain while keeping my gaze locked on Aleksandr.

“And our brother,” Aleksandr adds, pouring vodka into a glass like it’s water.

Frankie’s brow furrows as she takes that in. Just yesterday, none of this was her reality.

Now? She’s swimming in Bratva bloodlines.

“Will I meet him today?” she asks. “Is that who we’re waiting for?”

“She’s a bright one,” Kostya chuckles.

“Of course she is,” Aleksandr says, his eyes warm on Frankie. “She takes after her mother.”

“My mother?” she breathes. “Did you know her?

Aleksandr nods, but before he can elaborate, Kostya cuts in. “Did I know her? She practically changed my diapers!”

Aleksandr glares at him as if Kostya has said too much already.

“What?” Kostya mutters, deflated.

“Misha wants to tell her himself.”

“So? I didn’t say jack shit. But whatever. I’m out,” he mumbles, throwing the middle finger at his brother before leaving the room.

“Apologies. Konstantin has lived in America for too long. It’s made him forget his place.”

Neither Frankie nor I add anything to the remark. Clearly, not everything’s peaceful in the Petrov family.

“Come,” Aleksandr says. “Misha will arrive shortly.”

Frankie beams excitedly at me as she follows Aleksandr out the door, while I reluctantly follow her.

She might be excited to meet thePakhan, but I know better.

Very few people have ever laid eyes on Mikhail ‘Misha’ Petrov—and that’s not by accident. They say he’s a ghost in his own kingdom. A ruler who never steps off his throne, but whose reach stretches into every shadow. A man like that doesn’tmeetpeople—he summons them. And the idea of him summoning Frankie? Yeah, nothing about that sits right with me.

My troubling thoughts are cut short when Aleksandr guides us into the house’s sprawling library and I see sitting on one of the couches, casually thumbing through his phone, Kirill.

“Where’s my sister?” I snap at him, rushing towards him.

“Sleeping upstairs,” Kirill says flatly, not even bothering to look at me.

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