Armelle Roksana Vasiliev
Somewhere in New York || May 15th, Morning
Mel opened her eyes to the ceiling, glossing over it lazily. So she was at Pierreâs place again. With an expansive view of the upper east side, his flat was always a nice place to wake up in, though the man attached to it was a different story. Ever since sheâd caught his eye at one of the soirees his wife held, heâd been smitten with her. Sure, she may have led him on a bit, but he was intelligent enough to understand what he was getting himself into the first night, especially when the fangs came out.
âMorning, Pierre.â The man beside her on the bed flinched, opening his eyes with a peevish smile. âNo fooling you, huh?â
âNot with a heart rate like that,â Mel said, turning onto her side.
âLike what you see?ââYes,â Pierre breathed, pupils dilating.
Tugging at the edge of her lips, Mel rolled onto him, letting her weight sink down. As his breath hitched, her hair feathering over his chest, she kissed him, nipping and licking at his lip. She lapped up the slivers of blood she drew greedily, smirking as she avoided his attempts to deepen the kiss. Just as he leaned upwards, attempting to wrap his arms around her to get a better grasp of her, she pinned him down, grinding onto him.
âStay,â she cautioned, drawing the word out playfully. Then, licking a trail down his jaw and onto his neck, Mel sank her fangs in, the salty skin giving easily to allow her to relish the warm essence of the life of the man moaning under her.
As she sucked away, she felt the tension drain out of Pierre, his strained muscles relaxing as the euphoria took over. While sheâd be lying if she said she didnât enjoy having complete powerâcomplete
dominionâover another person, she didnât reap much satisfaction from biting human, especially one sheâs bitten so many times. This utter lack of challenge was why she accepted the invitation. After all, when Dmitri fucking Tepes sent someone an invitation, refusal was hardly an option, or at least not for Mel when the guest list was brought into question.
After sheâd had her fill, she unlatched herself, licking her fangs as she observed the blissed-out man below her, eyes glazed over as he smiled with half the correct muscles. Too easy, too simple, too predictable. But, a nice wallet and contact list.
âPerk up, big boy,â Mel said, sliding down over the developing layer of soft tissue around his abdomen.
Somewhere in New York || May 15th, Afternoon
Melâs phone rang just as she was stepping out of Pierreâs car for the fourth time that day. New York was busy around her, a mixture of casual, business, and high fashion around her as the day went on. Ahead was her destination: another street of high-end boutiques made accessible with Pierreâs credit card. So she was manhandling him a little, but hey, heâd had a good morning. The only loser was Pierreâs chauffeur, who was forced to drive circles in search of a parking space, not knowing if heâd find one before Mel finished her tour, and even he was getting paid.
âHi Daddy,â Mel said, her voice sing-song and dripping honey.
âDochurka.â Her fatherâs exasperation was clear across the phone, expressed in the minute strains and spaces in his voice and words.
âYes Otets,â Mel said, pouting. That too was communicated, if her father was actually paying attention to the call. There was a difference there, with her fatherâas there often was. For the monarch of a family that touted black-and-white views, Semyon Vasiliev had an awful lot of grey about him, making him both easier and harder for Mel to deal with.
âYou called?ââI am checking in with my second-youngest.â
âAnd she is alive and well, without the family fortune. Tell that to mother.ââArmelle, dochurka, do not be too cross with her. She means well.â
âShe means to marry me off,â Mel said, her smile dropping.
âOtets, tell me you didnât put her up to it.ââI did not.â
The silence that followed wasnât what Mel was looking for, and she let it stretch on until her father spoke again.
âDochurka, are you sure you will not return to Russia?â
âYes, Otets.â Waving off the lady attending to her, Mel made for the exit, her mood spoiled. The light air conditioning created a breeze as she exited, blowing her hair forwards.
âAnd donât bother reactivating my cardâI donât need it.âHer father sighed, both of them knowing that she still expected it to be reactivated. This was how the game went: she would detach herself from her family financially for one, two, then three months, but eventually sheâd fall back on them again. In a way, it was how she stayed a part of the family, even overseas. Sheâd contributed her fair share of the fortune, though mostly in the past, and nothing would change the fact that she was and always would be a Vasiliev.
This, however, was exactly the problem. âDilly-dallying the days awayâ was what her mother had called her current lifestyle, and Mel supposed she was right. Yet, she wouldnât go back. She couldnât, whether or not she was living on borrowed time; her younger sister was now receiving suitors, and it reflected poorly on the family if a younger daughter married before an older one, but Mel wasn't quite ready to settle down.
So, postpone she would, and as much as possibleâor at least until after this weekend of fun and games at the Tepesâ expense.
âAnything else, Otets?ââArmelle,â Semyon said, this time with a depth to his voice that wasnât immediately decipherable. âI wish you the best.â
âOtets?â Mel asked, but a beep signalled the end of the call, leaving her to stare at her phone. Though maintained her pace, her heart was pounding: Sheâd rarely heard her father so conflicted. Did he know something she didnât? She doubted it, especially considering that the Tepes event was so soon; her family wouldnât dare interfere with her on Tepes property, and she was headed to the party later today.
She tucked her phone away, putting it down to paranoia. Rather than fretting over possibilities and inevitabilities, Mel was going to do what she did best: live in the present, and presently, she had a party to attend.
Tepes Private Island: The Grand Hall || May 16th, Morning
Mel was among the earlier crowd to the hall, having woken up at the same time she did every morning: early. At this point, her internal alarm was more of an incurable nuisance than a choice, albeit being helpful once in a while. Today was one instance she got to be thankful for the habit pounded into her by her upbringing, but her happy mood hadnât lasted for long: Her bedmate, bless their unaging soul, was already gone. Though she wouldnât admit it, Mel took a certain amount of pride in being the light sleeperâthe person who woke firstâand she was both miffed and surprised by the fact that she woke neither before them nor when they left.
This bit of annoyance, though, was what carried through as she arrived at the grand hall, taking a seat and watching the latecomers mill in behind her. Silently waiting as people were seated, Mel kept her eyes on the elders, watching their reactions as some drama unfolded at the royal table. While she understood their disapproval, she personally didnât mind how the princes looked: clothing aside, there was hardly a problem. Besides, her own dress, low-cut and gold as it was, likely wouldnât have made the cut for âroyaltyâ either, so she could partially sympathize.
A smile danced on her lips as she watched. Having accepted the invitation because of the Tepesâ guest list, she was glad to see that the Tepes had delivered: The previous nightâs party, with its chaotic nature, failed to provide a comprehensive gathering of everyone of import, but Dmitri Tepes had succeeded. With the variety of people and power in the room, Mel had little doubt sheâd stay entertained this weekend.
A royal throat-clearing started the entire affair off, and Mel listened, her eyes still ghosting over the family heads. Her attention, however, quickly fell on Dmitri alone as he reached the pivotal point in his speech. Suddenly, her parentâs actions made sense: Unable to convince her to rejoin them in Russia, theyâd chosen to cast her outâor set her free, depending on which parent she was considering. But, somehow, Mel hated them even more for it; rather than letting her go, theyâd tied her down with responsibility, with goals theyâd chosen for her. Maybe she did want this, or maybe she didnât. All she knew was that she didnât want to compete on someone elseâs terms. Her faux financial need for her parents had been her pledge of loyalty to her family, and if they thought she'd be helpless without them, they couldnât be farther from the truth. While she spent her fair share of time for play, sheâd been raised to spend the rest of it on work, and that she did.
That said, Dmitriâs challenge meant a lot more than just being fine financially. Allies and enemies, truces and rivalriesâthat was how houses were built. Now was the time to play her cards strategically and decisively. Who would she approach first, the former royals or the unlikely usurpers?