by Rina Kent
But I’m sure he’ll forgive me if he knows I’m doing this for both my husband and the brotherhood. I already told him and everyone else that I regained my memories, so he has to wait a bit longer for the rest.
They all wondered how Kyle got beat up, and he came up with a lame excuse that some ‘brute’ thug and his ‘stupid’ minions ganged up on him. He said they looked worse than him, something for which Vlad nearly shot him there and then.
After showering and dressing in a white shirt and a black pencil skirt, I sit at my console to do my makeup. I’m starting to miss the toy between my legs—or more like, the feel of Kyle with me at all times. While I meant that I will kill him if he embarrasses me by using it in front of the Vory members, I did like the added excitement. Or this could be another manifestation of my weird sex drive.
After finishing, I stand up. My heel catches on the ground as the world starts spinning. I hold on to the console with shaky fingers and close my eyes for a brief second in order to regain my composure.
When I open them again, my room comes back into focus. That was weird. I need to eat in case some vitamins are missing from my body. I’m generally not the best when it comes to self-care.
I step out of my room and stop at the bottom of the stairs at the sound of hushed tones. I’m not one to eavesdrop, usually, but the two people speaking hold more importance than that principle.
My back flattens against the wall as I slowly peek around the corner. Kirill and Damien are standing toe to toe by the balcony’s door that leads to the garden. They either forgot the door was open or they don’t care.
Damien is shoving a cigarette in his mouth with clear detachment in his green eyes. He has flecks of gray in them when you look close enough, but they’re not visible from this distance.
His posture is nonchalant, but not hunched or completely detached. Damien is the type of person who’s always ready to punch someone here, shoot someone there, and bury someone somewhere.
Kirill, on the other hand, is an erect wall, standing with his hands lying limp by his sides. It’s the body language he usually feigns to make the other party believe he is approachable, harmless, even. That fox is cunning even when it comes to his body language. He’s fully aware of every move he makes, unlike Damien who doesn’t care what image he projects on the world as long as he gets to inflict violence.
The reason I’m standing here is the utter weirdness of the view. Damien and Kirill have never gotten along, not in Dedushka’s time and not now. They were always reprimanded for the endless fights they caused at the table.
Kirill leans more toward Igor and Adrian. Damien is a lone wolf who doesn’t get along with anyone—except for maybe Vlad a little. Well, and me when he wants to be a pain in the ass.
The fact that they’re talking one-on-one is suspicious. The absence of their closest guards who follow them like shadows is one more reason why I should be privy to this conversation.
Kirill readjusts his glasses with his middle finger. While they’re thick-framed, they don’t hide the intensity of his gaze. “What’s your deepest, darkest desire, Damien?”
“Aside from spilling your brains on the ground and pretending to mourn at your funeral?” Damien lights his cigarette and blows the smoke in Kirill’s face, fogging his glasses.
The latter doesn’t flinch or show a hint of annoyance. He doesn’t even remove his glasses to clean them and lets the smoke disperse on its own. “Yes. Aside from that.”
“Hmm. Why are you asking?”
“I might make it happen.”
“There, there, since when did you start to think you’re all that? If I want something done, I will do it myself. I don’t need your fucking help.”
“I’m faster.”
“I’m stronger.”
“Speed is more important, Damien.” His words turn slower, agonizingly so—taunting, even. “Surely, it’ll come in handy for your current quest.”
One second, Kirill is standing, and the next, Damien is grabbing him by the throat against the balcony’s glass door. I hide further behind the wall in case they notice me.
The gray flecks in Damien’s eyes that I couldn’t perceive earlier expand until they nearly cover the entirety of his irises.
The black bull.
It’s the side of him that only comes out when he’s on a violent spree. I contemplate going out there in case the crazy bastard actually kills Kirill, but the smirk on the other asshole’s face stops me.
What am I thinking? Kirill is well aware of Damien’s unhinged nature, more than anyone else. He signed up for this and he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“How the fuck do you know about that?” Damien snarls in his face, pointing the lit part of his cigarette at Kirill’s cheek as if he’s planning to burn holes in it. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went on with that plan.
“Does it matter?” Kirill pushes him away with what seems like ease but must’ve taken a lot of effort. He readjusts his glasses with deliberate slowness. “Something else matters more. Pardon—someone.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you, Kirill.”
“You can try, but that would be a waste since we can have an agreement.”
Damien takes a long drag of his cigarette and lets out a cloud of smoke. “What the fuck do you want?”
“I’m glad you asked.” Kirill smiles, dusting off Damien’s jacket. “Let’s get together in a more private place after the meeting.”
Shit.
I can’t lose track of their conversation after that. Kirill is clearly planning something. First, he got his octopus hands on Adrian, and now he’s going after Damien—whom I at least thought couldn’t be swayed.
My phone vibrates and I swiftly pull away to check the text.
Vlad: Sergei wants you in his office.
With a groan, I go back upstairs. Kirill and Damien won’t leave yet since they were called by Sergei. I need to figure out what they’re plotting, or at least Damien’s fixation. If I can get him that instead of Kirill, I can convince him to switch to my side.
I knock on Sergei’s door before I step inside. Vladimir and Igor are sitting with him in the lounge area. I nod at my supposed father-in-law, and he nods in return before focusing back on the paperwork splayed in front of him.
Vlad doesn’t spare me a glance. His jaw is tight and his beard appears thicker today, casting an ominous shadow on his face. He’s been in a pissed mood since I released Kyle that day, and he completely stopped talking to me when he found out I took Kyle back.
He tried to shoot him the following morning. Needless to say, Kyle got his own gun, ready to murder him as well. So I stood between them to stop their madness and told Vladimir he has no evidence against Kyle and, therefore, he can’t shoot him. Something for which Kyle smirked at while he pulled me possessively to his side by the waist.
“I don’t even know you anymore,” Vlad told me. “When you go back to being the Rai I recognize, come talk to me.”
That was about a week ago, and to say I don’t miss Vlad’s companionship would be a lie. If it were the old days, he would’ve been the first to help me brainstorm about Kirill and Damien.
Sighing, I greet Sergei by kissing his hand and then remain standing. “You asked for me?”
“Yes. You did well, Rai.”
I stare at the three men present. “Concerning what?”
“Kai,” Sergei explains with a proud gleam. “His leader, Abe, is open to negotiations, and it’s all thanks to you.”
I smile. “It’s my duty.”
I knew Kai’s profit-oriented brain would be favorable for a lucrative partnership.
Vlad grunts under his breath, but he says nothing. He’s like a grumpy large bear who finds it a chore to speak.
“If there isn’t anything else, I’ll go to work,” I tell Sergei.
“No, no. Since you started this, you have to take it to the very end.”
I halt in my tracks and face him. My granduncle appears hea
lthier lately, his face less darkened and his coughs seldom making appearances. It gives me hope that I don’t want to have, like the hope I had when Dedushka’s heart condition got worse. I thought he was stronger than the world, but he left me. Sergei will leave too.
Everyone does.
I shoo those thoughts away and ask, “What do you mean?”
“We have a meeting with Kai and Abe today.”
“And?”
Sergei exchanges a look with Igor, who speaks on his behalf. “Abe specifically asked for you, Kirill, and Damien.”
“He did?” I stare incredulously. “Wouldn’t it make more sense if Igor goes?”
“That’s what I said,” Kyle’s fake father agrees. “Damien, of all people, shouldn’t be anywhere near a strategic meeting.”
He can say that again.
“It can’t be helped.” Sergei stands. “Can I trust you, Rai?”
“Of course.”
“Keep that wild dog on a leash,” Igor tells me, appearing uneasy as if we’re heading straight to a disaster, which might as well be the case.
Kirill, Damien, and me in a meeting all on our own?
Yeah, this needs a word stronger than disaster.
16
Rai
The meeting is set in a traditional Asian restaurant with private rooms.
It’s one of the places where the Yakuza conduct their outside meetings. If I remember correctly, they own this one.
Our guards remain outside as we agreed on beforehand.
Damien, Kirill, and I arrive a bit early, so the three of us are sitting on the floor. Damien is beside me to the right, and Kirill chose to sit opposite me even though there’s room on my left.
The table is empty except for a ceramic teapot that rests in the middle. Every five minutes, a waitress comes to refill our teacups.
“Don’t you have some vodka in here?” Damien barks, and the slim woman flinches at the strength of his voice. She’d probably piss her pants if he showed any hint of his Russian accent. He’s really a bull.
“No need to yell at the lady.” Kirill smiles, speaking in a smooth, suave voice. “Can you please get us some vodka? Our friend here lacks class and is not a fan of tea.”
She mirrors his smile, falling right into his fake charm. “Right away, sir.”
As soon as the wooden door slides shut behind her, Kirill’s smile vanishes. “How long are they going to keep us waiting? Is this a tactic?”
I take a sip of my tea and relish the relief it creates at the bottom of my stomach. “The question should be why they chose the three of us.”
“Especially you,” Kirill says with condescension.
“Why should that be a surprise when I’m the one who brought Kai around?”
“Did you use some lady skills?” Kirill taunts. “Does that tool husband of yours know?”
“No, but if you really want him to know about something, I can tell him about your own set of skills.”
Kirill readjusts his glasses with his middle finger, glaring at me, but he drops the subject.
The waitress brings us a bottle of vodka and glasses, smiles at Kirill, then leaves. Damien uncaps the bottle, ignores the glasses, and drinks straight from it like the savage he is.
“Stop it.” I try to take the bottle from him, but he pushes me away.
“Drink your tea and leave me the fuck alone.”
“I can’t leave you the fuck alone when the brotherhood depends on this meeting.” I grab the bottle and yank it away, causing droplets to fall on his shirt. “You’re hard to handle sober, so there’s no way in hell you’re getting drunk on a day like this.”
He licks his mouth, wiping away the droplets of vodka that stuck to his upper lip. “Are you this bossy in bed, too? That lucky bastard, Kyle.”
“More like poor bastard,” Kirill mutters.
“Lucky or poor is none of your business.”
“Tell me, I’m curious.” Damien leans his elbow on the table. “What made you settle with Kyle, of all the men who surrounded you all your life? You had much better options. Hint: me.”
“He understands me better than anyone else,” I say without even thinking about it. That’s what always made Kyle special. He sometimes understands my needs before I do.
“How does one even begin to understand a witch?” Kirill asks.
“You would never know because when you start, you’re already under my spell.”
“Holy fuck, that must’ve hurt.” Damien barks out a laugh. “You okay there, Kirill? Want me to get you something for the burn?”
I smirk at Kirill and he flips me off. Damien uses my distraction to try to reach for the bottle of vodka. I swat his hand away, clasp the bottle, and place it in front of me under the table so he doesn’t have access to it.
Even though he’s sitting still, his eyes are shifty and agitated. I’m ready to bet it’s because of whatever seed Kirill planted in his head back at the house.
The door slides open again, and this time, it’s not the waitress. Kai walks in, followed by an old, short man who wears a pressed suit.
Abe Hitori. The leader of the Yakuza branch in New York.
Kirill and I stand in greeting, but Damien remains planted in place. Not only that, he also uses the chance of my standing up to grab the bottle of vodka.
I glare down at him, but he just sips from the bottle. “What? Surely they know how I am if they specifically asked for me. Right, old man?”
The motherfucker.
I curse inwardly, but I pause when Abe laughs, wrinkles forming around his eyes, then speaks in a subtle Japanese accent. “Always a black sheep, Damien.”
“I will drink to that.” He swallows another gulp of his vodka, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Now, spare us the suspense and let us know why we’re here.”
“Patience, young man.” Abe sits beside Damien, and the asshole doesn’t even attempt to give him room.
Kai smiles at me in greeting before he kneels beside me in an upright posture that somehow appears reverent. He places a hand on my thigh. “Have you been well?”
“Yes,” I murmur as I remove his hand. “And that question doesn’t need to be asked while you touch me, does it?”
He chuckles softly. “I didn’t expect anything less from you.”
After the food arrives, a mixture of soups, noodles, and an exquisite fish dish, Abe and Kai unhurriedly dig into their meals. Kirill and I join, mimicking their pace. Dedushka taught me how to use chopsticks a long time ago. He said respecting other people’s cultures goes a long way.
Damien, though, digs in with his bare hands, still sipping from the bottle every other bite.
We need to finish and get the hell out of here before he disrespects them anymore.
“Sergei sends his regards,” I tell Abe.
He merely nods, still focused on Damien. “Say, are you betrothed?”
“What’s that? Some type of food?” Damien asks between mouthfuls of fish.
“Marriage. Ever thought of it?”
“Why would I?”
“Maybe you should.”
“Well, maybe you should.”
“I am married.”
“No kidding. And here I thought you were single for life.”
“I’m going to propose something.”
“Why are you looking at me?” Damien motions at me and Kirill. “They usually do the talking thing.”
“I’m not interested in talking.”
“Then why have you brought me here in the midst of my busy schedule? I have people to kill, old man.”
Abe smiles again. “What if I said I have an offer to make?”
“Then make it already and spare us the bullshit.”
“Damien,” I scold under my breath.
“What?” he shoots back. “I have shit to do.”
“It’s fine, fine.” Abe motions at me with a dismissive hand. “Damien?”
“Yes?”
“I’m offering
you my daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“Why would you do that to her?” Damien stares incredulously, then whispers, “Is she not really your daughter, so you’re punishing her?”
Abe laughs, the sound genuinely amused. “I like you, Damien Orlov.”
“Believe me, your daughter won’t,” I say before I can measure my words.
“Yeah, I agree.” Damien is still chewing on his food while he speaks.
“Let me be the judge of that.” Abe takes a sip of sake, a traditional rice wine. “The marriage is part of the deal. Take it or leave it.”
“Leave it.” Damien attempts to stand up, but I grab his thigh and force him to sit down, my nails digging into his pants.
I smile at Abe. “What he meant to say is that we’ll think about it.”
“We will?” Damien asks.
“Yes, we will.” I give him a knowing look, then direct it at Kirill, who takes his time savoring the fish before he speaks.
“We would be honored by such an alliance,” Kirill says in his suave voice. “I’m sure Sergei will be thrilled.”
“Yes, yes.” Abe slides a cup in front of Damien and pours sake in it.
“No thanks, old man. I prefer vodka.”
I pinch Damien’s thigh and he groans, but I don’t let go, mouthing, “Do it.”
It’s extremely disrespectful to refuse a drink, especially if it’s from someone older than you.
Damien rolls his eyes and takes the cup, downing it in one go before he shoos my hand away and stands, clutching his vodka bottle. “I’m out of here.” When neither of us move, the brute grabs Kirill by the collar. “You waiting for an invitation or something? We have shit to do.”
Kirill follows Damien’s lead and bows.
Dammit. They’re leaving together. No way in hell.
I follow their lead, bowing before I stand up. “I apologize for Damien’s behavior.”
“No, no.” Abe raises his hand dismissively, a small smile on his lips. “He’s an interesting man, yes?”
“You could say that,” I speak slowly. “May I ask why you wanted Kirill and me to join?”
“Kai said you and Kirill are more rational and would convince him.”
My gaze slides to Kai, and he smiles at me with a knowing nod. I don’t know if I should be thankful or wary of his ulterior motives.