Chapter 4: The Volkov Structure

The Volkov Structure

Leo Vance

The instant Dmitri called my name, that low, controlled tone I recognized from the darkest hours of the night, the foundation of the Volkov Tower seemed to dissolve beneath my feet. I didn't just register shock; I felt a chilling fear. This was no coincidence. This was a destiny, cold and aggressive, and I was the newly confirmed target.

A step-brother. The term felt like a legal restraint. My mother is marrying his father. I lost my composure and my independence to the most dangerous figure in this entire, terrifying house. This was beyond scandal; it was a total failure of my life.

I managed a sound, a strangled, pathetic attempt at a greeting, but it was Ivan who completed the devastating introduction. His grasp on my hand was cool and warm, entirely possessive, matching the intense, unnervingly knowing light in his gray eyes.

“Welcome to the Family,” he repeated, his smile utterly charming but carrying the same lethal promise as Dmitri’s silence. The only difference was approach: Dmitri was pure pressure; Ivan was a python, watching, getting ready to strike.

Ivan’s thumb brushed the sensitive skin on the back of my hand for a deliberate, agonizing second, an identical touch Dmitri had used to guide me in the dark.

He knows. I snatched my hand back, a wave of fresh panic washing over me. My eyes darted between the two men. They stood in there assessing my fear with a unified focus.

“Shall we proceed to the dinner protocol?” Arthur suggested, his booming voice completely failing to register the silent, nuclear meltdown occurring in his foyer.

******

The dining chamber was large and capable of containing more than enough people. My mother immediately began her mission: attempting to ring up cheerful conversation.

“Leo manages an independent gallery space,” Eleanor chirped brightly, addressing the twins across the intimidating marble expanse. “He is committed to nurturing emerging talent in the Brooklyn area.”

“DUMBO,” I corrected.

Dmitri, seated directly opposite, maintained his cold look. He ate slowly, rarely glancing at his plate. His focus was fixed entirely on me, his gaze a relentless, silent weight. It was a continuous, wordless communication: I own this moment.

Ivan handled the social engagement, leaning forward with his head resting casually on his hand. “An independent space. ”

“Yes, any problem with that?,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, hating the defensive tremor in my throat.

“Not at all,” Dmitri cut in, his voice low, his eyes finally shifting from mine to his brother’s. “But it lacks leverage. A place that fails to bring in profit, is a liability.”

Arthur nodded slowly. “The boys just finalized the termination of an associate who couldn't execute strategy efficiently. They have no patience for inefficiency.”

“The failure to grow above where you are now, is an unnecessary liability ” Dmitri stated, his gaze snapping back to mine, sharp and accusatory.

I am the unnecessary liability. They were doing this on purpose, communicating their intent over a seven-course meal using corporate words.

Ivan offered a swift, insincere smile. “We hope, Leo, that you find your way in what you are doing. We pride ourselves on profit and not failure.”

I was not a person to be welcomed; I was a component to be fitted into their machine.

My mother, blissfully unaware of the psychological knives being wielded, tried to encourage bonding. “Leo needs to see the scope of this city! Boys, why don't you both show him the exclusive side next week?”

“We will talk on the necessary time,” Dmitri said, his voice flat, yet the implication of personal time was heavy.

Ivan followed instantly. “We insist on it. When one becomes part of our structure, we ensure they fully comprehend the terms of engagement.”

The chilling realization struck me anew: it wasn't a choice between them. This was a single, terrifying judgement aimed at my destruction and capture.

The pressure became unbearable. I felt dizzy, suffocated by their coordinated energy.

“Excuse me,” I murmured, pushing back from the table. “I… need a glass of water.”

I fled the dining room, walking quickly down the corridor. I desperately needed a place to hide, to simply breathe without being analyzed. I found a small bathroom and scrambled inside.

When I opened the door seconds later, desperate to return to the safety of my mother's presence, Ivan was waiting.

He stood a few feet away, holding a bottle of sparkling water. He was entirely calm, devastatingly professional. It was worse than any aggression.

“Premature retreat is poor strategy, Leo,” Ivan observed gently, his voice a smooth, unsettling balm. He didn't approach; he simply watched my trembling hands.

“I am not retreating,” I insisted, my voice tight. “I simply needed a moment of privacy.”

“You required a moment alone,” he corrected, his tone lacking any trace of malice. “And that is understandable. This family can be overwhelming for those accustomed to minimal pressure.” He stepped closer, offering the bottle. “But you must understand, privacy is a luxury we rarely afford our new, highly valuable assets.”

“I am not an asset,” I whispered fiercely.

Ivan’s eyes, cold and precise, held mine. “You are. Dmitri and I operate on a foundation of shared intelligence, resources, and objectives. What one claims, the other secures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied, weakly, hating that I couldn't look away.

Ivan smiled, a thin, perfect curve. “You know exactly. And you know that Dmitri and I share everything that matters. We are a single will with dual points of execution. You are not dealing with one man who desires you, Leo. You are dealing with a partnership.”

Before I could process the devastating weight of that statement, the air behind him shifted. Dmitri had silently appeared, blocking the path back toward the dining room.

He didn't speak. He simply walked toward me, taking the two remaining steps that Ivan had left open. He stopped inches away, his body a solid wall of threat, trapping me between the two identical forces. He placed one hand flat on the wall beside my head, caging me in.

“We have an understanding now,” Dmitri stated, his voice low and rich, his eyes burning into mine. His presence was raw, physical dominance, completely bypassing the polite veneer Ivan maintained.

“I hate you both,” I choked out, a rush of desperate defiance overriding my fear.

Dmitri’s lips curved into a cold, satisfied smirk. “That is irrelevant. You crave the transgression we embody. You crave the desire we will impose on your chaos. And now that Ivan has confirmed the value of this, you belong to the both of us.”

He didn't need to touch me anywhere else. The heat radiating from his body, the intensity of his presence, was enough to reignite the shame and the terrifying, unwanted rush of heat beneath my skin.

Dmitri pulled back, his hand dropping. He simply inclined his head, a gesture of dark finality. “Return to the table, Leo. Do not compromise the stability of your mother’s transition. Compliance will be rewarded.”

He turned and walked away, followed instantly by Ivan, who gave me one last, unsettling, victorious glance.

I stumbled back to the table, mumbling a pathetic excuse about the altitude.

Eleanor was immediately concerned. “Oh, darling, you look flushed. Are you alright?”

“Fine, Mom. Just… the thought of everything,” I lied, unable to look at the two men who now watched me with identical, cold amusement, their secret solidified.

The rest of the evening was a suffocating blur of talk about trusts and acquisitions. I was trapped, a newly acquired asset in a joi

nt venture, and my captivity had only just begun.