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The Blood and Betrayal  Novel Cover

The Blood and Betrayal

Dimitri and Alexei Volkov are inseparable twin mafia kings until Irina, Dimitri's trusted maid and secret love, comes between them. A case of mistaken identity in a darkened room leads Alexei to cross a line with Irina while wearing his brother's robe. Now pregnant with Alexei's child, Irina is caught in a violent rift. As Dimitri's rage ignites and Alexei claims her, their unbreakable bond shatters into a bloody war where only one brother can emerge as king.
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Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Dimitri's POV 

Something was wrong with Irina.

I noticed it the moment she entered my office that morning. She moved differently, and carefully. Like her body hurt. Like she was trying not to break.

Her face was pale. Her eyes were red and swollen like she had been crying. And she would not look at me. Not directly. Not the way she usually did.

"Your tea, sir," she said quietly, placing the cup on my desk. 

Her hands shook. The cup rattled against the saucer.

I frowned. "Irina."

"Yes, sir?" She replied, still not looking at me.

"Are you well?" I asked.

"Yes, sir. I am fine." Her voice was flat and empty.

She was lying.

I leaned back in my chair and studied her. Four years I had known this girl. For four years I had watched her move through my space like light through water. I knew every expression on her face. Every tone in her voice. Every small thing that made her happy or sad or afraid.

This was different. This was worse than afraid.

She was broken.

"Did something happen last night?" I asked carefully.

Her whole body went rigid. "No, sir. Nothing happened."

Another lie.

"Irina, look at me." My tone was soft. I had never raised my voice at her. 

She finally raised her eyes to mine. And what I saw there made my chest tighten. There was pain in her eyes.

"Who hurt you?" I asked, my voice dropping low and dangerous.

She shifted. "No one, sir. I promise. I just did not sleep well."

I did not believe her. But I also knew better than to push. Irina was gentle, but she was not weak. When she wanted to hide something, she hid it well.

"If anyone touched you," I said slowly, "you will tell me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." She whispered.

"I will kill them." I said firmly.

"I know, sir."

She turned to leave, moving carefully like every step hurt.

I watched her go and felt anger curl hot and tight in my gut. Someone had done something to her. In my house. Under my protection. I don't know what. But I will find out and when I did, they will be sorry.

The morning dragged on. I had meetings with my captains. Received territory report. Counted money. Planned for enemies . But my mind kept drifting back to Irina. To the pain in her eyes. To the way she flinched when I said her name.

By afternoon, I could not focus anymore.

I looked for her and found her in the laundry room, folding sheets with the other maids. She looked worse than this morning. Her skin had a gray tinge to it. Sweat beaded on her forehead despite the cold.

"Irina," I called from the doorway.

She looked up, startled. "Sir?

"Come here." I ordered gently.

She set down the sheet she was folding and walked towards me slowly. The other maids watched with curious eyes. They knew she was my favorite and I didn't care.

I gestured for her to follow me into the hallway, away from listening ears.

"You look ill," I said bluntly.

"I am fine, sir. I'm just tired." 

"You are not fine. When was the last time you ate?"

She hesitated. "This morning."

"You are lying again."

Her shoulders sagged. "Yesterday. I think. I do not remember."

"Why are you not eating?"

"I feel sick. My stomach..." She pressed a hand to her abdomen and her face went even paler. "Excuse me."

She rushed past me towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. I heard her retching, the awful sounds of someone emptying what little was in their stomach.

I waited.

When she emerged, she was shaking. Her eyes were watery. She looked like she might collapse at any moment.

"That is enough," I said firmly. "You are done working for today."

"No, sir, please. I have so much to..."

"I do not care. You are sick. You need rest."

"It is just a stomach bug. It will pass."

"Then it will pass while you are resting." I took her arm gently and guided her back towards my bedroom. She was too weak to protest.

I sat her down on the edge of my bed. She looked small and fragile sitting there, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"Stay here," I ordered. "Do not move."

I went to my bathroom and found the medicine cabinet. Pain relievers. Something for nausea. I brought them back with a glass of water.

"Take these," I said, handing her the pills.

She looked at them like they might bite her. "I do not need medicine, sir."

"Take them, Irina. That is an order."

She swallowed the pills with trembling hands, then drank the entire glass of water like she had not had anything to drink in days. Maybe she had not.

"Lie down," I said, pulling back the covers.

"Sir, I cannot sleep in your private bed. That is not appropriate."

"I am making it appropriate. Lie down."

She obeyed reluctantly, curling onto her side like a child. I pulled the blanket over her, tucking it around her shoulders.

She didn't look at me. She closed her eyes. I stood there for a long moment, watching her breathe. Watching the tension slowly leave her body as the medicine took effect.

"Rest," I said quietly. "Sleep as long as you need to."

"Where will you sleep?" She asked, her voice already thick with exhaustion.

"In my study. I have work to do anyway."

"I am sorry, sir. I didn't mean to disturb you." She said.

"Stop apologizing, it's not your fault."

But even as I said it, I wondered what she was apologizing for. What burden she was carrying that made her look so broken.

I walked to the door, then paused and looked back at her.

"If you need anything," I said. "I will be in the study."

She did not respond. She had already fallen asleep, her breathing deep and even, her face finally looked peaceful.

I closed the door quietly behind me and stood in the hallway, my hands clenched into fists.

Something was very wrong.

And I was going to find out what.

I sat in my study, looking through some reports when Alexei, my twin brother stumbled into my office.

He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot. His hair was a mess. He moved like his head might explode if he stepped too hard.

"You look like death," I said.

"I feel like death." He collapsed into the chair across from my desk and groaned. "I drank too much."

"Clearly." I said, looking back into my report.

"I do not remember half the night." He rubbed his face with both hands. "Did I do anything stupid?"

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