Chapter 2

IVANA'S POV

After plugging down everything in my stomach, I held the sink in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror.

For the past fifteen years, the stench of my father's blood remained in my nostril, and at the sight of blood, the memories comes rushing like the wave of the sea, slamming into my head and making it hard to breathe.

I thought I was getting better after seeing Dr. Neelam for at least, half of my life.

She has always been my therapist and while I attend her therapy session and voice out everything I have held inside of me for fifteen years, I felt a little better, or moreso, I thought.

During those time, I couldn't feel the stench in my nostril and I could tolerate the sight of blood, but my saving grace has expired, I guess.

Now, that I was now a member of the supposed Bratva family, Mom would eventually hire a more professional therapist, after today's scene at the dining room.

I turned on the tap, splashing water on my face, trying to blur the memory of my dead father in the pool of his own blood from my head, but it was not helping.

My breathing became ragged and it feels like I was drowning in an ocean with no one to pool me out.

“I thought you were getting better.” Came the voice of my mother from the entrance door.

She stood by the door with her head leaned on it, staring at me blankly.

I have never been able to read her, not even for once.

“Not anymore. You should have let me stayed in New York and continue my therapy session with Dr. Neelam.” I replied, splashing more water on my face.

“You don't have to worry about that, I will get a more professional therapist for you, now that you're here.” She said, flashing me one of her numerous fake smiles. “You will be fine in a matter of months. Just try to adapt and go along with your step-sister and step-brother.”

I wanted to decline. To contradict her words and make it known to her that I can never fit into the Bratva family, and as for my step-brother, not even God can make us get along.

He isn't someone I can associate with. Never.

Nevertheless, despite my urge to contradict my mother's words, I ended up nodding, agreeing to every of her decisions.

We returned to the dining hall after I was able to get my head straight and working perfectly.

“I'm sincerely sorry for the scene I displayed earlier.” I apologized as soon as we got to the dining room.

Of course, Mom forced me to.

“It's fine. Don't mind Ruslan, he is a menace.” Lara flashed me a smile and relief washed over me.

At least, someone was nice to me. I won't be as lonely as I thought I would.

Taking a seat, we began to eat lunch when Ruslan, my supposed step-brother walked into the dining room, looking clean in his white sleeve and black trousers.

My heart picked at a certain race when he made a turn around the dining room and walked to the seat closer to mine.

Why does it have to be close to me?

“Do you mind?” He asked, flashing me a lopsided smile, but it wasn't a question, I could feel it. It was more like an order and even if I decline, he would still sit there, nevertheless.

I nodded slowly, returning my gaze to the dish of mouth-watering dessert, like it was the most interesting thing ever.

That was the only way to avoid him, Ruslan Orlov.

We ate in silence, not until he broke the silence, turning to face me. “Why did you have the urge to throw up at the sight of my blood?”

That question. The answer to it seems impossible. I have never told anyone, not even my Mom knows about it.

I lied to her fifteen years ago when the ambulance came to take my dad's corpse to the mortuary.

I told her I was asleep and only woke up to see his dead body in the sitting room.

Only I and Dr. Neelam knows the truth.

“Do you have a trauma? If you do, we need to make you fit in our family before you become a disgrace.”

Ruslan's words were blunt and sharp, but I didn't let it get to me.

“I don't have that. I just hate the sight of blood.” Even at the mention of it, my throat bobbed, threatening to throw out everything that I ate.

“Good.” Goosebumps explodes all over my body with just one word from him.

I hope I would be able to survive in this family. I really hope.

“Now, that we are a family, why don't we become free with each other?”

That was also not a question, it was an order.

Free with each other? I don't see that happening anytime soon.

“I don't see that happening in this lifetime.” I was careless and eventually voiced out my thoughts.

His head snapped towards me. He heard what I just said, of course he did because his eyes became red with anger and his lips curved into a slow maniac smile.

“If you love your life, as much as I think you do, mind your manners. I can snap your neck right now and no one would challenge me for it.”

God, that whisper of threat from him was so smooth that I feel my blood rushing to my head and my fingers clutching the cutlery, trembling.

I have never felt so much shiver from a threat before, and now that I did, it was one hell of a horrific experience.

“Dear sister, I hope we become a united family and take the clan to the next level.”

Just a second ago, he threatened me and now, he was being all calm and sweet, like nothing happened.

My supposed step-brother is jack of many traits. Bloody traits.

I could feel the air around us tightened, threatening to cease my breath.

“To good life and loving family.” Igor raised a toast and everyone raised their glasses, except me.

I was dwelling in my thoughts to even notice what was going on.

“As an artist, are your fingers not as important as your life?” Ruslan whispered and I jerked out of my thoughts.

Another threat!

God, he already knows that I'm an artist and as much as my life is important to me, my fingers are.

I grabbed my glass of wine and raised it for a toast.

I hope I would be able to live here in one piece, without any part of my body gone, like Ruslan had threatened.