Bond to Break (Stolen Obsessions #4)

13. Fyodor

CHAPTER 13

FYODOR

A string of text messages wakes me in the morning before my alarm has a chance to go off.

Anatoly: We have problems. Call me.

Unknown Number: Rumors are circling about why you killed Franco, Pakhan.

At least ten more of a similar variety, and I know my dreams of spending the morning getting my cock inside Katya will have to wait. Speaking of, my cock is as hard as I left it last night, hanging heavy in my pajama pants. If I don’t relieve myself, I won’t be able to focus on anything.

I rub myself to completion in the shower before I get dressed, and as I watch my cum wash down the drain, I seriously wonder how I’ve let my life come to this.

My hands tighten the tie around my neck, and my phone is already going off. I expect it to be one of my sons, but in contrast to last night, there’s nothing from them. I open the app for one of my banking services and send my ungrateful son a hundred grand for his cut of her sale and the price of cleaning the floor and disposing of a body.

Once that’s settled, I head down to her room to check on her. I might not have the necessary time to play with her and take her virginity like I want to right now, but I need to know she’s okay. I tap on the door before I slip the key into the lock. I’m not knocking, but letting her know someone is coming inside.

It’s a wasted effort as she’s still passed out, breathing hard and drooling into her pillow. She’s in some kind of dream, but since it doesn’t seem like she’s upset, I place a note on the table for her and leave her to it. My chest feels warm afterward, yet I don’t know why.

The next stop is the kitchen, where I grab something to eat to start my day. I haven’t gotten a text back from my son, though I know he will have seen the money come through by now. Foolishly, I hoped he was drunk and would come to his senses in the light of day with a nice chunk of money in his bank account.

In my craziest dreams, he might send me a thank-you text for not giving him any shit about being an ungrateful fuck. I’m growing progressively more concerned that my sons are planning to do something stupid, and that’s why I haven’t heard from either of them since last night.

Another text comes in—but I have heard from just about everyone around them.

Ivor: Pakhan, the body is still here, and the cops just showed up.

God-fucking-dammit.

Me: Pull it into the back room. They won’t be looking hard.

Me: Where the fuck are my sons?

Ivor: Not here.

Only my sons would leave a dead body on the floor of their club and run off to take care of other shit. I abandon the idea of a more elaborate breakfast in my frustration. I’ll need to get down there and do some damage control myself.

Unknown Number: My name is Scott Hawver. Franco owes me money for the girl. I was told to contact you for my five grand.

Scott Hawver is one of the names I heard last night in my research. The boyfriend of her only friend Natalia. The one she was supposed to be staying with. While I leave at least twenty other messages unanswered, I reply to this one.

Me: Not a problem, Scott. Let’s meet to discuss it.

Scott: I don’t want to meet. I just want the money.

Me: Meet me, or no money.

A crawling sensation creeps up my back, and I suddenly think I’m very close to how my little ballerina got caught up in all of this. I’m glad she’s here now, and I don’t regret that she’s mine, but you’d have to be a fool not to notice the condition she came in, and someone, maybe multiple someones, needs to pay for that.

I’m tired of dealing with everyone. That’s part of why I wanted my boys to take over. After so many years of running a criminal enterprise, I’m tired enough to just want to live my life.

My phone rings one more time, and I very nearly smash the miserable thing against the fucking wall. I’m tired of being this accessible, but I check before I do, and this time, it’s my old second-in-command, Anatoly. He only calls when he needs to, or he’s drunk, and it’s too early for the latter.

We retired together, knowing there was no point in leaving him among my sons’ organization. They would never trust him, and for good reason. He would always be loyal to me. Not that I have bad intentions for my sons, I never do, but they’re wise not to trust me. I wouldn’t trust myself if I were my own father.

“You’re not actually paying the boy, are you, Fyodor?” His exhausted tone reaches down the phone and comforts me on a brotherly level. He knows how much of a headache they’ve given me over the years. He’s one of the very few people allowed to register dissenting opinions with me.

“Only his cut.” There’s no hint in my tone that I’m embarrassed and making excuses, but we both know I am. I bid ten times what Katya was worth, and had I backed out, there isn’t a chance the bidder below me would have actually ponied up. I should have let them fail and deal with the fact that sometimes you get robbed.

“You’re making him soft,” he echoes my thoughts.

“It seems I’ve already made him soft. He has the money.”

“And he’s still out in the streets running his mouth about you to anyone who will listen?”

My fists tighten.

“I paid him this morning, so I’m not sure how the timing worked out.”

“They make you look weak, Fyodor.”

“And what do your fucking knees do for you, old man?”

He laughs, understanding well enough when a topic is closed.

“Since I’ve already got you, how’s the new pussy?”

This shouldn’t piss me off the way it does, and I don’t dare let him know the girl is already affecting me, fucking with my head, and making me crazy just from being in my space for one night.

“Wouldn’t know. I haven’t fucked her yet.” But the image of doing just that fills my mind.

“Don’t wait too long. She might break that hymen herself just to spite you.”

“She wouldn’t dare.”

But the idea that she might is now a very real concern.

I’ve just finished my breakfast when I hear the bell that alerts to someone inside the penthouse. No one from the front office called up to say I had visitors, and Marta’s already here, so I pull out my gun as I head down to the main entrance.

The elevator I brought Katya up in last night is exclusively for my use, and no one else has access to that garage. The staff and my boys park on an upper level and come in through the lobby, which has the highest security measures in place. I’ve lived too hard for too long not to live with armed men at every turn.

When I reach the foyer, Daniil and Irakily stand there wearing dark and inconspicuous clothing. They don’t look like they’re about to rob the joint, but this is how they dress when they’re looking to blend in. And why the hell do they need to blend in their father’s apartment?

“What are you two doing here?” I ask, and they both jump. I leave my gun out, not because I intend to shoot either of them, but because of the chance they’ve brought people with them I don’t mind shooting.

“Papa,” he says by way of greeting, “after the unpleasantness of last night, we thought we should come and talk.”

Daniil stands in front of his brother, acting as peacekeeper as usual. He has a good head on his shoulders, and he’s smarter than Irakily, but he’s scared too, not brave enough to run a crime enterprise alone or to tell his brother when he’s wrong. He’s not the type to stand up for himself, and I’ve always watched horrified as he was pushed into trouble by his friends. I worry now his brother has taken over the role of pushing him into trouble.

“Where’s your new toy?” Irakily spits, much less charitably.

“You boys don’t look like you’re here to talk.” I pointedly look them up and down, letting them know what I suspect.

“Fine, we’re not. I’m selling the girl.”

I laugh as I look at my son. Nearly as tall as me, with my same dark hair, I must admit I am the creator of my own issues with him in more ways than one.

“So you knew I’d tell you no, and you intended to come and take her anyway.”

He doesn’t answer, but he tenses his jaw, and I look at Daniil.

“You came to rob me, son?”

His head hangs in shame, and that’s a louder admission than any I’ve ever heard.

“You’re the one who stole her. Now tell me where she is.”

I level the two of them with a very hard look. There aren’t really words for what I’m feeling right now, but the most intense thing is suspicion.

“She’s not anywhere either of you will find her, and I think you know fully well you’ll have to pay back the hundred grand I sent this morning if you auction her again. Do you want to give me my money back, son?”

Irakily fumes as he stands there but says nothing. It’s Daniil who speaks.

“Three million, Dad. That’s what she costs. That’s what you’ll pay.”

“Think very hard about what this money actually means to you, son, because you are very close to offending me.”

It’s then I realize Marta is standing at the edge of the room listening, and I nearly laugh. Sne?ana was a master snoop. She’ll have to do a lot better than that to get past me.

“Marta!” She jumps when I say her name. “Take the boys into the kitchen and get them some refreshments.”

“You’re not going to ignore us, Dad,” Irakily says.

“I’m not ignoring you. Let me deal with one thing, and we can discuss this with a drink like gentlemen.”

I leave them standing there, assuming they’ll either go with her or leave, but in the time it buys me, I walk into a room where no one can hear me, and I call down to the desk.

“When my sons came in, were they alone?” I ask the doorman.

“No. They had four other men with them who weren’t on your list. They were barred entry.”

“And where are they now?”

“Haven’t seen them, sir.”

I hang up the phone with him and call my hired security.

“Just about to call you, Pakhan. The boys’ friends appear to be casing the garage for a way in, sir.”

“Let them, but stay close.”

I have Marta to distract the boys, so I head back to the entryway instead of the kitchen, and rather than tell my sons I’m leaving, I go deal with the goons they brought with them to rob me. I worry my sons will have to learn a very hard lesson.