Chapter 2 - The Letter Beneath Her Pillow
Alina stood in the doorway for nearly a minute before entering.
She knew every detail of her room.
The narrow bed.
The small writing desk.
The chipped porcelain lamp Sloan had given her the previous Christmas.
The window overlooking the eastern garden.
Nothing valuable.
Nothing worth stealing.
Yet someone had searched everything.
She picked up the envelope.
Her hands trembled as she opened it.
Inside was another photograph.
Her father.
Younger than she remembered.
Beside him stood a man Alina immediately recognized despite having seen him only from a distance.
Damon’s father.
Mikhail Vulkoff.
Both men were smiling.
Friends.
That made no sense.
Her father had never mentioned the Vulkoffs.
Never once.
Alina turned the photograph over.
A sentence had been written across the back.
Ask Damon what his father did in 2008.
A knock came.
Alina nearly screamed.
“Sloan?”
“It’s me.”
Alina opened the door.
Sloan entered carrying folded towels.
Then she noticed the room.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Sloan placed the towels down.
“You tell Damon.”
“No.”
“Alina.”
“I can’t.”
“Someone entered your room.”
“If I tell him, he’ll ask questions.”
“He already asks questions.”
“Different questions.”
Sloan studied her.
“You’re hiding something.”
Alina sat on the bed.
“My father disappeared when I was nine.”
Sloan said nothing.
Alina had never told her.
“Everyone said he abandoned us. My mother believed it eventually.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
Alina handed her the photograph.
Sloan’s face drained.
“That’s Mikhail Vulkoff.”
“I know.”
“Your father knew him?”
“Apparently.”
Sloan flipped the photograph over.
“Oh, hell.”
Alina buried her face in her hands.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Show Damon.”
“What if his father caused my father’s disappearance?”
Sloan crouched in front of her.
“And what if he didn’t?”
Alina looked up.
Before either woman could speak, footsteps passed the servants’ corridor.
Then stopped.
Damon appeared in the doorway.
Neither woman had heard him approach.
His eyes moved from Sloan to the opened wardrobe.
Then to the photograph.
“Everyone out.”
Sloan stood.
“Damon—”
“Not you.”
His gaze remained on Alina.
“Sloan.”
The cook hesitated, then left.
Damon closed the door.
Alina stood.
“You can’t just come into my room.”
“One of my security cameras outside the servants’ wing went offline twenty minutes ago.”
Her anger vanished.
“What?”
“Then Viktor found the service entrance unlocked.”
He looked around.
“This is why.”
Alina handed him the photograph.
For the first time since she had known him, Damon Vulkoff looked genuinely stunned.
“Where did you get this?”
“It was on my pillow.”
He turned it over.
His expression changed again.
“You know what happened in 2008?”
He did not answer.
“Damon.”
His eyes lifted.
“My father died in 2008.”
“I know.”
“But before that, someone inside his organization betrayed him.”
Alina’s breathing slowed.
“Who?”
“We never knew.”
“What does that have to do with my father?”
Damon stared at the photograph.
“Maybe everything.”
He walked toward the window.
“When I was seventeen, my father kept a private accountant. Not someone who handled ordinary books. Someone who knew where every hidden partnership, every debt, every secret account existed.”
Alina whispered, “My father was an accountant.”
Damon turned.
“Yes.”
Her heart dropped.
“You knew?”
“I suspected when I saw your employment file.”
“You knew who I was for two years?”
“No. Your records list your mother’s surname.”
Alina nodded.
Petrova.
Her father had been Nikolai Arsenov.
Damon continued.
“But six months ago, I saw your emergency contact information. Your mother’s maiden name matched an old file.”
“You investigated me.”
“I investigate everyone living under my roof.”
The words should have angered her.
Instead, she felt sick.
“What happened to him?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
His voice remained calm.
“My father never told me.”
Alina’s eyes filled.
“He disappeared.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“I know Nikolai Arsenov vanished three days before my father was killed.”
The room went silent.
Three days.
Alina had always believed her father disappeared on September eighteenth.
Mikhail Vulkoff died September twenty-first.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying whoever sent this photograph wants you looking backward.”
“And you?”
Damon folded the photograph once.
“I want to know why.”
Alina stepped closer.
“You’re keeping it?”
“For now.”
“That belongs to me.”
“It’s evidence.”
“It’s my father.”
Damon looked at her.
Then returned it.
“Fine.”
Their fingers brushed.
The same strange spark traveled through her wrist.
Alina pulled her hand back.
Damon noticed.
Neither mentioned it.
He moved toward the door.
“You’re not sleeping here tonight.”
“What?”
“Someone entered once. Until I know how, you’re relocating.”
“To where?”
“The guest wing.”
“No.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“No?”
“I’m staff.”
“You’re also being watched.”
“I can sleep with Sloan.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever entered your room knew exactly when you were downstairs.”
His tone hardened.
“They know your schedule.”
Alina swallowed.
Damon opened the door.
“Pack what you need.”
“Where exactly am I going?”
He looked back.
“The room across from mine.”
Alina stared.
“That is completely unnecessary.”
“It has the best security.”
“You could put a guard here.”
“I could.”
“Then do that.”
“I don’t trust the guards yet.”
That silenced her.
“You think one of your own men did this?”
“I think someone turned off a camera from inside the house.”
Damon’s expression became unreadable.
“And until I know who, you stay where I can see you.”
Two hours later, Alina stood in a luxurious guest bedroom larger than her mother’s entire apartment.
She hated everything about it.
The silk curtains.
The marble fireplace.
The absurd mattress.
Mostly, she hated that Damon’s bedroom stood twenty feet away.
She was unpacking when she heard something fall in the corridor.
Alina opened her door.
Damon’s room was partly open.
“Damon?”
No answer.
She stepped closer.
“Sir?”
Still nothing.
Alina pushed the door farther.
The room was dark.
Damon sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head lowered.
His shirt lay on the floor nearby.
His breathing was uneven.
Alina stopped.
This was not the composed man who commanded rooms without raising his voice.
This was someone fighting something invisible.
She should leave.
Instead she whispered, “Are you all right?”
Damon looked up sharply.
“Get out.”
Alina froze.
Then she noticed his hands.
They were shaking.
Not fear.
Pain.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“I said leave.”
Something about his voice stopped her.
Not anger.
Embarrassment.
She realized suddenly that she had walked into the one thing Damon Vulkoff guarded more fiercely than his office.
His vulnerability.
Alina stepped backward.
“I’m sorry.”
She reached the doorway.
“Wait.”
She stopped.
Damon dragged a hand through his hair.
“There are pills in the bathroom cabinet.”
“What kind?”
“Blue bottle.”
Alina retrieved them.
She brought water.
He swallowed one.
“Old injury?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“From what?”
“Something I don’t discuss.”
“Convenient.”
His mouth almost curved.
Almost.
Alina sat carefully in the chair opposite him.
Neither spoke.
Minutes passed.
His breathing eventually steadied.
“You can go,” he said.
“I know.”
She remained.
Damon looked at her.
“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
Alina considered the question.
“I am.”
“That wasn’t convincing.”
“I’m afraid of what you represent.”
“And me?”
She looked at him.
“I haven’t decided.”
Their eyes held.
Something shifted.
Dangerous precisely because neither of them moved.
Damon finally looked away.
“You should go.”
This time she did.
At two in the morning, unable to sleep, Alina heard Damon’s door open.
She looked through the crack in hers.
Damon walked toward his office.
Seconds later another figure emerged from the stairwell.
Viktor.
Alina watched him enter Damon’s office after him.
Voices carried faintly.
She couldn’t understand most of it.
Then she heard her name.
Alina moved closer.
Viktor spoke.
“She doesn’t know yet.”
Damon answered.
“She can’t.”
May you like
Then Viktor said something that stopped Alina’s heart.
“Because if Alina discovers why Nikolai Arsenov really disappeared, she’ll never forgive your family.”
