Page 67 of Black Castle

“Putin.”

The sound of heavy boots against tiles follows, and then he appears—an unfamiliar young man lowering himself into a chair with the easy confidence of someone who belongs.

His sharp eyes are the darkest shade of black Vivienne has ever seen—polished obsidian, piercing and unreadable. His onyx hair is styled into a messy pompadour, a silver ring gleaming at the corner of his lower lip. Dark ink curls up his neck in the shape of a snarling snake—the exact tattoo Lucan has on his neck, too.

Vivienne’s stomach twists slightly at the sight of it. And thinking about it, all the soldiers she has been able to get a good look at since she arrived also have the same tattoo on the same spot.

Why? What does it mean?

“Damn,” Kenji mutters under his breath, his eyes lingering a bit on the young man. “He’s kinda…”

Whatever Kenji is about to say gets cut off by an irritated, high-pitched voice.

“Chert voz’mi proiskhodit?” ‘What the hell is happening here?’

The owner of the voice strides into the dining room, her thigh-high leather boots clacking against the floor like the slow tick of a bomb. She’s petite, the same height as Vivienne, yet she carries herself like she owns the room. Her feline eyes narrow down on Vivienne and Kenji.

Vivienne straightens instinctively. That’s definitely Miss Aiko.

“Miss Aiko, Captain Serrano…” Mr. Putin’s gaze bounces between them before he gestures his hand to Vivienne and Kenji. “These are the boss’s guests from the United States. And he has asked us to treat them kindly.”

“Odd,” Captain Serrano muses, his sharp gaze resting intently on Vivienne. “He didn’t mention that he was expecting guests.”

“I don’t think he knew they were coming either,” Mr. Putin murmurs under his breath, low enough that it almost goes unnoticed.

For some reason, the butler’s comment makes Serrano’s lip twitch in amusement. “The uncle I know doesn’t usually open his door to uninvited guests, though. I’m really curious. What changed?”

Uncle?

Vivienne blinks at him. Lucan has a nephew? Though the guy looks like he hasn’t even kissed teenager years goodbye, Vivienne still can’t believe Lucan has a sister old enough to have a teenage son. She doesn’t even know he has a sister at all.

Serrano’s gaze slides back to Vivienne. “So, what’s your name?”

For a second, she really feels the question is meant for her—his eyes are on her, after all. But before she can open her mouth, his gaze shifts to Kenji.

“Kenji,” Kenji replies, his brows knitted in confusion.

“Not you, blondie.” Serrano rolls his eyes, his gaze shifting back to Vivienne. “I’m talking to her.”

“Vivienne. But you can call me Vee.”

“Why?” His brow arches.

She blinks. “Um, cause Vivienne is a bit wordy? And besides, my friend calls me Vee and I like it.”

A half-smirk tugs at his lips. “But I’m not your friend.”

Kenji mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like ‘asshole’, but Serrano only glances at him with mild amusement.

“So, what’s Lucan’s relationship with them?” The lady—Aiko, as the butler has called her—speaks up, her tone sharp and laced with irritation.

Serrano leans into his chair, looking far too entertained. “I wouldn’t know now, would I? Go ask him yourself. He’s your brother, after all.”

Brother, huh?

Vivienne releases a frustrated sigh. So this is Lucan’s sister? Of course, she should have been able to tell the moment she walked in. It isn’t like she has everything in common with Lucan. Yes, it’s obvious that she looks Asian, but unlike Lucan, she has normal skin tone, ebony black hair, and dark brown eyes. There’s no resemblance, no matter how little between him and her.

“He never told me he had a sister,” Vivienne murmurs, mostly to herself.

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