by A. C. Bextor
Her eyes narrow before she bites out, “I don’t care if you believe me or not. You don’t have to trust me to ruin him.”
“You’re in love with the Russian, are you not? Why would you want to see him ruined?”
“I’m not in love with him,” she remedies through a tight jaw, her cold, dark eyes glazing over to Ciro’s satisfaction. “Not anymore.”
Ciro considers all Katrina has already explained. She went into detail regarding Vlad’s newly born interest in Klara, the young girl he and his sister had a hand in raising, before going on to say that the adored-by-the-family Faina Zalesky has hated Katrina’s existence inside the stable at Recherché for as long as she’s been there.
Katrina made it clear that she wants to be part of any plan to undo the Russian organization in its entirety, and to include his sister, Faina. She hasn’t asked for a share of profit, a piece of the territory for herself, or credit for the role she’ll play. She only wants revenge.
“What is it?” she clips. “What am I not making clear enough for you?”
Ciro rests his elbows on the table, holding a cigar in one hand and a picture of Klara given to him by Josef in the other. He’s been carrying it around like an unsigned agreement—a trophy he’s happy to shelve.
“If I decide you have a place here, and you betray me, it’ll be the last move you’ll ever make while breathing.”
Her sardonic laugh erupts. “Betray you? You’re one to talk. You shot up your own family.”
Lifting his eyebrows, Ciro wordlessly insists she continue making her point.
Katrina leans forward in her chair, placing both hands on the table. Her blood-red nails match her dress to exact shade. Her lipstick is lighter, but just as devilish. Ciro contemplates walking away, internally debating if this untamed tigress could ever be trained to do a job as he’d need it done.
“Your name was all over that shooting at Temple Square. You sent armed men to not only gun down Killian Dawson, your own family, but Vlad, as well.”
“I did,” he admits.
“You failed.”
Ciro tsks. “If I wanted either of those men dead, they’d be dead. Rest assured of that.”
“You’re playing with your food.”
“Before I devour it, yes.”
“Then why not let me help you catch the main course?” Standing, Katrina smiles. “You have my number. When you’re ready to take back all Vlad took from you, let me know.”
With the parting words spoken, Katrina turns on her high heels and marches toward the door. As Ciro admires her body from afar, he revels in knowing that he’s no longer alone in his plot to take what should’ve always been his. He’s also elated to know that love, not greed, will be what finally brings Vlad to his knees.
Losing that love will cripple the heart of the Russian. With any luck, Vlad will be without Klara as well as Faina soon.
Two weeks later…
“It’s time we had our talk, Vlad,” my father announces, pointing to the empty chair next to his. “Sit.”
As he holds the glass tumbler of scotch in one hand, the other casually rests on the arm of the leather chair.
“How are things?” he queries to start.
After hearing all about what’s happened, my father’s less-than-enthusiastic arrival didn’t come as a surprise. I knew he’d have something to say, and since he got here four days ago he’s hardly said anything at all.
Grabbing the liquor bottle at his feet, I pick it up in an effort to measure how this conversation will proceed. Finding only a small amount of the contents gone, I sit back next to him and brace.
Talks with Vory have always been tried and tested in accordance to how much alcohol he’s consumed. Tonight, for obvious reasons, I already know why he’s choosing sobriety over indulgence. He’s angry with me and doesn’t want to risk my missing his point.
“Nothing has changed,” I return, delving straight to the heart of his concern. “We’re no closer to finding proof it’s only Klara who Ciro is after—if he’s after her at all. We still don’t know it’s him.”
“You questioned the man you had Steffan holding?”
“Yes,” I answer, supplying him with what he already knows. “He said nothing, staying loyal to whoever sent him.”
“Until his last breath,” my father assumes correctly.
By the time I made it back from the city, the man Steffan brought back was dead. I trusted my men to do all that was necessary to extract the information needed. Unfortunately, there are those men who refuse to bend, even when copious amounts of pain are inflicted. It’s possible the man had no idea who exactly he was working for. Considering how severely he’d been worked over, I’d venture to guess he was nothing more than a hired hit man.
“We’re looking into more leads now.”
“You won’t find anything,” Vory cautiously returns, then flips his tone to extend an insult. “Right now, you’re being outsmarted. Ciro and his men are laughing at you.”
“He’s baiting me,” I remind. “That isn’t smart. It’s stupid. If I have proof he’s stepped foot into my operations, he’ll answer for it.”
Tilting his head, aiming his eyes to mine, my father hesitates before abrasively asking, “And you’d consider going head-to-head with Palleshi all over the girl?”
The girl. Fuck.
Since the night at the hotel, feeling her body under mine both trembling in fear but also thriving at my touch, I haven’t considered her a girl at all. It’s probable I stopped considering her to be anything other than my own personal temptress long before then.
That night, I stayed in her room much longer than I had planned. The steady breaths she took against my skin coerced me to keep her close. Safe. Protected. All my energy had been used to keep her at whatever distance I could, but my body ached to truly touch her. So I did.
However, I’ve managed to avoid Klara completely since we’ve been back. I’ve told myself my focus must adhere to business—to Abram’s care, my soldier’s widowed family, and to Ciro Palleshi, the man my gut is telling me without any doubt is responsible for all of this.
“Faina loves Klara. As does Veni,” I explain. “Like it or not, the girl is part of this family, Vory.”
“Her last name is Koslief, not Zalesky. Maybe you’ve forgotten,” he penalizes over the rim of his glass. Turning his gaze to the fireplace burning in front of us, he adds, “And Klara isn’t yours to decide what to do with.”
At his assertion, I flinch. My hands ball to fists with unreasoned anger. Klara isn’t mine entirely, yet she belongs to me in ways even Vory himself should understand.
Guilt wades in with each carnal thought she’s enticed within me, making it impossible for me to hold her at bay. Klara’s touch wields too much power, and it’s a power I can’t afford to give her right now—if ever.
“Your mother sends her love,” my father expresses with sincerity, briefly changing the subject. “She wanted to come this visit, but with so much chaos surrounding you, I told her she had to stay back.”
“She’s always been welcome in my home,” I counter. “Anytime.”
Turning to me, Vory’s eyes narrow. “Welcome, yes. Safe, no. You have no idea when or where Ciro will strike. I imagine he’s been picking at his wounds since you destroyed all he had years ago.”
“He’s never made a move against me,” I insist.
Smiling coolly, Vory reminds, “Hasn’t he? I saw the pictures, Vlad. Rueon was beside himself when I ordered them brought to me. Ciro sending one of his men to test the boundaries of your patience is, in fact, a move against you. A threat. Surely you know this, or have you learned nothing since being on your own?”
He’s right about Ciro, but rather than give him more reasons to doubt my resolve, I advise, “I’ll handle Palleshi.”
“You won’t,” he snaps, lowering the glass to his lap and tracing the edge of it with his finger. “I already have. Right now, there’s a group of your men scouring the c
ity, every Palleshi contact, to find out who’s been snooping where they shouldn’t.”
Vehemently I question, “Who gave that order?”
“I did. However, it should’ve been given by you.”
“You had no right to interfere,” I clip. “You’re putting my men, our family, in danger.”
“I did,” he returns. “My eyes are opening, Vlad. You treat your men like equals. They’re not. Aside from Abram, who even I consider family, you allow them to come and go as they please.”
In part, he’s correct. However, growing up in my father’s home, I witnessed firsthand the distaste his men have for him. I knew then that, given an opportunity to run things as I wanted, I would change how they’d always been ran before. And so far, it’s worked.
“We may not agree in how business is run, Vory, but the operation is all the same.”
“You’ve lost sight of so much,” he returns with regret.
“I haven’t.”
Disregarding my denial, Vory continues in assumed triumph. “By the time your men have finished proving my point that it is indeed him, Ciro will have no choice but to knock harder on this door to challenge you.”
My blood boils. My body seethes. Once again, my father is prodding and pushing where he shouldn’t. The trust he claims to have in my abilities is once again tarnished.
“Don’t be angry. This is business.”
“Business,” I grind out.
“Klara hasn’t ever been one of us. She’s dispensable. If Ciro wants her, he can have her if it means he slinks quietly back to the hole he came from. Tonight was intended to remind him of your power. He shot at you, Vlad. He killed one of your men. He must answer for it.”
“He also shot at Killian Dawson and killed two of his men. Killian could’ve been the target. Not me.”
“Killian Dawson has no real and true enemies. He keeps his operation tight. You know that.”
Instinct tells me my father is right. Killian Dawson has a level head. He’s aging. Technically, though the two men do not speak, Ciro and Killian are family. Whoever attacked with guns blazing was there for me. And thank Abram’s God their aim was shit.
“Faina will be coming home to Russia at the end of next week,” Father states. “I don’t know how long she’ll be away from you, Vlad, but until things here settle, I don’t want your sister to hinder your judgment in handling business as it should be done.”
“She won’t willingly go home with you,” I insist. “She’s happy with her life here.”
“She doesn’t get to decide. If there’s anyone I blame for your lack of urgency, it’s your sister. You spoil her and, in turn, she sullies your resolve to handle things as you should.”
“She doesn’t,” I deny.
“No?” he snaps, twisting his neck and aiming his angry glare at me. “What happened when she first came to you?”
There’s no need to discuss; I know what happened. Faina created the very reason my father continues to doubt my leadership.
“She left, Vlad. For almost a year you had no idea where your sister, your responsibility, was.”
“Faina was adjusting.”
“Faina was resisting. I’m sorry for her being a woman. I’m sorry she has to endure living a life she hates, but we all make sacrifices, don’t we?”
Agreeing, if only to avoid discussing my sister’s ever-challenging ways, I nod.
“Faina has so much of your mother in her. She continues to live with her head in the clouds, pleading ignorance to all we do.”
“Does she know about any of this?”
Shaking his head, he replies, “No. And I’d tell her if she were here, but of course, Faina has disappeared again. Leaving is her way of throwing a tantrum. I’m too old to deal with tantrums.”
Because she’s my sister, I defend, “Any time she needs a break, I encourage her to take one. She spends most of her time caring for Veni and helping Maag. Or busy doing charity work.”
“She has no job, no husband, no life. Nothing to warrant running away.”
“Veni will have a hard time without her,” I assert. “He loves her.”
“Veni needs to start learning what his role in this family means,” he replies with confidence. “He’s your son, Vlad, yet the boy is still clueless about what it means to be your son.”
“Veni is young.”
“Veni doesn’t get to stay young for much longer. I’ll go easy for a while. I won’t push. Believe it or not, Faina leaving will force him to grow as a person.”
“Give the boy a break, Vory. He’s a good kid with a good head on his shoulders.”
“If anyone needs a break, Vlad, it’s you,” he tells me.
“What?”
“You’re going away for a few days. You’ll stay at your cabin. Needless to say, when Faina hears of my decision to take her with me to Russia, she won’t take to it well.”
“So you expect me to stay away and wait until she’s gone?” I nearly laugh.
If Vory thinks I’m scared of my sister, he’s wrong. I don’t fear Faina; I care about her and want to see her happy. Perhaps if he’d adopt this notion toward his own family he’d be closer to us all.
“I expect you to do as I’ve told you,” he snaps, clearly angry at my amusement. “Your dismissal isn’t only about Faina. Your men are loyal, but it’s still not been proven whether their loyalty is to this family or….” He pauses, disgust and anger sweeping through his features. “Or if their loyalty is only to you.”
“And Klara. What happens when Faina is gone? The two are close. Will you be taking the girl?”
“She stays,” he carelessly replies. “Veniamin will need her company once his aunt is gone. Maag is too old to handle him alone. And perhaps Veniamin can use Klara in ways both Faina and Maag would not approve.”
“Vory,” I warn, closing my eyes and expelling every ounce of energy I can gather to stay seated. “Veniamin is a child. Klara is a woman.”
I don’t include that in all regards, whether I know what to do with her or not, she’s mine.
Drilling his gaze to mine, his lips thin. The knuckles of the hand holding his glass turn white.
Venomously, he spits, “She is a woman who means nothing. Which I’ll remind you is what she’ll always be to you. She stays, if only so you remember that.”
“You have nothing at all to say about any of this?” I interrogate Rueon, who continues holding his concentration to the road ahead. “Tell me why you won’t talk to me.”
Three days ago, I watched Vee walk out of the house alone, which is something he rarely does. I had no idea where he was going, but if the size of his suitcase was an indication, he wouldn’t be back for a while.
When I asked Veni where he’d gone, he carefully considered my question. He almost didn’t answer, but I pushed until he finally did. He told me Vee went to his cabin.
For two weeks, Rueon has been ignoring me completely. He’s hardly so much as looked in my direction. Since he’s the only one of Vee’s men who’s near my age, I always thought he and I shared a special kinship in a life beyond our control.
With Faina gone again, Maag busy keeping the house in order, and Veni out running with his friends, I already felt betrayed by Vee and then ultimately alone.
After a few hours of contemplation, I marched into Rueon’s room, suitcase in hand, and told him where I intended to go. I needed a way to get there. I could’ve driven myself, but I didn’t want to risk getting stuck in the middle of nowhere. It was after I laid out my plan when Rueon finally looked at me like he always has. His eyes were wide, and he did a poor job of hiding their smile in them.
“Rueon,” I hiss, folding my arms across my chest. “If you don’t tell me why you’re so angry with me, I’ll ask Abram.”
Still, he says nothing.
“Or Leonid or Gleb,” I try next. “I bet one of them will tell me. All you boys gossip like girls. You say you don’t, but I know you do.”
Rueon continues
his studious gaze out the windshield, but I catch a small lift at the corner of his lips.
“Fine,” I nearly give in, but add, “Vee will know.”
He slams on the brakes, and my hand darts out to hold the dashboard.
Panicked, Rueon reaches across his seat to mine. Once he puts the car back in motion he finally, finally, after so many days of silence, starts to explain his position.
“Vlad had a word with me, Klara. And it wasn’t a nice one.”
“A word?”
Nodding, but not looking in my direction, he adds, “I was told to stay out of your way.”
Clearly not understanding, my eyebrows furrow before my eyes narrow.
He uses my confused silence as an opportunity to continue in dramatic detail.
“I like my hands. Both of them. And I’m partial to keeping all my fingers,” he jokingly admits. “Vlad threatened to slowly cut each of them off if I got near you without him being in the same room.”
“You’re joking,” I whisper, anger boiling. “Stop it.”
“No,” Rueon denies, a sudden civility in his voice. “Really. Vlad means what he says. So you coming to my room, telling me what you were going to do without anyone else knowing—”
“I’m so sorry,” I inject.
“I couldn’t let you go alone. He’d kill me for that, too.”
I hadn’t realized my insistence in having Rueon take me to Vee would be putting him in… what? Danger? Of Vee? Surely, Vee wouldn’t….
Answering the question I didn’t ask aloud, Rueon interrupts. “He would. He’d do whatever the hell he felt he had to do to keep me away from you.”
“That’s crazy!” I exclaim, if only to myself. “You’re not… I mean, you and me—”
“Calm down, woman, before you swallow your tongue. It’s okay.”
“It is not okay!” I cry again, this time louder. “He has no right. You’ve done nothing wrong!”
Still, so even and cool, Rueon returns, “He has every right.”
“Even if we….” I blush, words sticking in my throat. “I mean, if we….”