Page 39 of Porcelain Vows

“What about Sofia?” I ask. “Is she involved?”

“No sign of her. She’s been in Monaco for months.”

At least there’s that. I may have taken her for just another social climber when we were together, but it’s clear to me now that Sofia was always the more dangerous of the two— calculating where her father was merely brutal. After what she did to Stella, though, the urge to have her taken out has been building like a volcano about to erupt. The thought of her hands on my woman makes my blood run cold, then boil with rage.

Sofia’s precision makes her lethal— she doesn’t waste moves or emotions like her father did with his drunken rages. She waits, watches, then strikes exactly where it hurts most. But keeping her at a distance in Monaco might be the one thing preventing me from putting a bullet between those cold gray eyes of hers. For now.

“And Whitmore?” I ask. “Can we recover him?”

“Doubtful. Novikov offered his daughter the scholarship, a position on some humanitarian board, and probably a few million in an offshore account. You know how Whitmore feels about his daughter.”

I do. The man would burn down the world to give Katherine what she wants; spoiled little rich girl out of her head on crack cocaine half the time. His one weakness— the same weakness Novikov has now exploited.

Whitmore may be a shark in Washington, ruthless in politics and business alike, but mention his daughter and he becomes putty in anyone’s hands. I’ve seen him cancel meetings with senators to take her calls. Novikov knew exactly where to press to make him fold. The powerful politician brought to his knees by a father’s love— a vulnerability I understand all too well, though I’d never admit it aloud.

“We need to move quickly,” Vasya says, his voice dropping lower. “I wouldn’t be merciful with him if I were you. The other families are watching. If they sense weakness…”

He doesn’t need to finish. In our world, weakness invites predators. Already, the lesser families will be circling, wondering if the Tarasov empire is ripe for dismemberment.

“I’ll handle it,” I say, my voice carrying a cold edge. “I know what to do.” I cut the call before he responds, then close my eyes, thinking of Stella asleep in my bed. Of Bobik in his room, unaware of the growing danger. Of Diana, who trusts me to keep our family safe.

When I open my eyes again, something has shifted inside me. The businessman recedes. ThePakhanemerges. I call Sasha.

“Tell Kostya to prepare the car,” I say, my voice cold even to my own ears. “And get me everything on Novikov’s current location and security detail.”

“You planning a meeting, boss?” he asks.

“Something like that.” I feel cold determination unfurling. “He’s messing where he shouldn’t. He needs to learn a lesson in humility.”

“You’re going after him personally?” Sasha sounds surprised. “Aleksei, we could send—”

“No.” The word falls like a stone. “Novikov made this personal. I’ll end it personally.”

A moment of silence. Then: “It will mean war. Open war between the families.”

“He declared war when he touched what’s mine.” I stand again, moving to the wall safe hidden behind a painting of the St. Petersburg skyline. “I’m just accepting his invitation.”

The safe opens with a soft click. Inside: passport sets, bundles of cash in various currencies, two handguns, and a file containing contingency plans in case of emergency.

Sasha exhales a breath. “I guess I should be ready for the fallout, then,” he says. He knows better than to question me.

“Khoroshiy.” I pull out the first gun, checking the chamber. “That’s what I pay you for.”

“You don’t have to pay me,” he mutters. “Sometimes loyalty is its own reward.”

The call ends. I set the phone down and continue my preparations, mind clear for the first time in days. There’s comfort in this— in action, in vengeance. This is the world I understand. The rules I know how to play by.

I load the second gun and tuck both into shoulder holsters. As I work, my thoughts return briefly to Stella. To the softness of her sleeping form. To the peace on her face that will vanish if she ever learns who I am.

I push the image away. Sentiment is weakness, and I cannot afford weakness now.

Novikov wants war.

I’ll give him war.

Chapter Seventeen

Aleksei

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