Snapping Point||Book 1

24.

I met Ivan as he sauntered down towards me. Gone were the days of his sharp suits, replaced by a more casual look - dark jeans and a plain top. I supposed it was a sign of him easing into middle age, now forty-nine. His entourage of goons flanked him, always present unless he wanted privacy for more personal activities.

I gave him a curt nod, my gaze drifting towards his men rather than meeting his eyes directly. "I'm ready," I stated, my tone neutral.

His blue eyes flicked from my lips to my eyes as he asked, "Have you been in contact with Joanna today?"

I nodded in response, relaying the information we had exchanged just ten minutes ago. Four men had departed from the cabin this morning, leaving only two to guard her. I conveyed all of this to Ivan.

"Good," he remarked, stepping closer to me and circling around as if assessing my readiness. "It's a shame that the same mother gave birth to you two... at the same time, no less." My breathing hitched, painfully. "You're nothing like her."

For the four-hundred-and-sixteenth time, I found myself nodding at his words. While Joanna and I shared a resemblance in appearance—though only those who knew us well could distinguish between us due to my slightly larger build and lighter skin tone—our personalities were polar opposites. What Joanna desired, I despised, and what gave my life meaning was dull to her.

I had begun dyeing my hair red as early as fourteen, while Joanna had begun producing pornographic content for Ivan at the same age. We were not on the same wavelength, had never been. By the time she turned eighteen, she had become the top performer at the bordello, catering to both men and women. For various reasons, Ivan had chosen Elsa for Amato instead of Joanna, and I could bet that it was because of how vilely he perceived the consigliere. As for me, I simply did the household chores, waiting for them to return and recount their adventures. It was thrilling, in a way, to hear about experiences I could only imagine.

As I pulled my hair to the side, Ivan shook his head, his expression filled with regret. "Sometimes I wish you were her," he confessed, his breath warm on my face, reminding me of his drunken state the night before, but I was more ashamed that he was doing it in the presence of these men. "If it were you in that cabin, Joanna wouldn't take two weeks to give me something to work with. She'd have broken in herself to save you."

He wasn't wrong, and his words hung around me, leaving me feeling suffocated. He was right—Joanna possessed a fighter's spirit, while I remained unsure of myself. But how could I discover my own strength in an environment of constant subjugation?

"And if I had followed my instincts and sent her to the Estate for Rossi's inauguration instead of you, she wouldn't have disappointed me." Ivan continued, his voice daunting, eyes dark, "She would have used her charms to extract information about Alesia's death. But all you did was dress like a prude and return to me after two days. Why didn't he take an interest in you?"

I was at a loss for words, not because Ivan hadn't asked me this question before, but because I was too ashamed to admit the truth. Romano's intimidating presence and intelligence had left me paralyzed, and my attempt to seduce him was a half-hearted failure. I knew I wouldn't have succeeded even if I tried. The irony was that Romano had actually saved me from my failed mission, but I couldn't reveal that to Ivan. He would think I'd been compromised and would want me gone. I was still grappling with Romano's actions myself - why would a man like him go against his family to save a stranger like me? It didn't add up.

Ivan's angry outburst brought me back to reality, his harsh words piercing me like a knife. "You still have nothing to say? You're a complete failure, Xenia! Alice would be turning in her grave if she knew how incompetent you turned out!"

As Ivan hurled the verbal blow, invoking my mother's name, I felt a toxic mix of emotions coursing through my veins. He had crossed a line, dragging my mother into our problems. I clenched my jaw, refusing to give in to his demands. I'd not let him anything he deserved to know.

My mind raced with dark thoughts as I watched him walk away, leaving me feeling like a fragile, shattered mirror. Ivan usually shattered my sense of self, making me question my very existence. His cruel comparison to my sister would cut deep, like a rusty knife twisting in my gut.

"At least I made it back. Give credit where it's due," I tried to push back, but his response was a vicious slap in the face.

"I think it would have been better if you didn't find a way back." He turned to face me. "That would have been the first good thing you'd have ever done in your life."

The air was sucked out of me, and I felt like collapsing. A lone tear betrayed me, trickling down my cheek before I hastily wiped it away. Ivan's disgust was a heavy burden to bear, but I couldn't let him win, no matter the cost.

I followed him anyway, my mind a jumble of conflicting emotions. While I fantasized about pushing him over the railings, I knew I couldn't risk it, not with the rest of the Ice Phantom crew downstairs. My own survival depended on his, and I couldn't deny the protection he offered my sister and me. We were vulnerable without him, and I hated being in that position. My thoughts turned to my father, whose suicide now seemed more sinister than tragic.

Ivan had made it clear we shouldn't dig into our past. He usually made it clear to us that he was our only savior, and that the devil who wanted us hadn't gone to hell just yet.