Captured by the Bratva (Sharov Bratva #3)

Chapter Four - Kirill

The opulent surroundings of the Black Orchid Club shimmer under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers. The air is thick with the scent of expensive cologne, cigar smoke, and the faint perfume of the escorts that hover around our table.

It’s a typical night out for me, Dimitri, and my brother Ivan. The music thumps rhythmically, and the chatter of the elite patrons blends into a symphony of decadence.

Ivan sits beside me, his features strikingly similar to mine but with an air of cool detachment that sets him apart. His dirty blond hair, like mine, is neatly styled, and his piercing green eyes scan the room with a calm, almost bored expression.

He’s always been the calm to my storm, the balance to my ferocity.

Dimitri, ever the watchful right-hand man, rises to take a call. He steps away, the heavy beat of the club music swallowing the sound of his footsteps. I lean back in my chair, taking a sip of my whiskey and letting my eyes wander over the scene. The Black Orchid is a playground for the powerful, a place where deals are made and alliances are forged. It’s my sanctuary, a place where I can relax and indulge in the pleasures of life.

One of the escorts, a stunning brunette with legs that seem to go on forever, leans in closer, whispering something suggestive in my ear. I smirk, acknowledging her with a nod but keeping my focus on the room.

Ivan, sensing my distraction, nudges me slightly. “You seem preoccupied, Brother,” he says, his voice calm and measured.

I shrug, giving him a sideways glance. “Just thinking. How’s business on your end?”

Ivan nods, his expression unchanging. “Steady. No major issues. I have a feeling things are about to get interesting.”

Before I can respond, Dimitri returns, his face unusually stern. He leans down, whispering something in Ivan’s ear, and then turns to me, his eyes locking on to mine with a seriousness that immediately puts me on edge.

“We need to talk,” Dimitri says, his voice low but firm.

I raise an eyebrow, gesturing for the escorts to leave. “Girls, give us a moment,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument. They reluctantly scatter, casting curious glances as they go.

Once we’re alone, I lean forward, my eyes narrowing at Dimitri. “What’s the issue?”

Dimitri looks at me intently. “What have you thought about Jeff Harrison’s case?”

I take a sip of my drink, letting the smooth whiskey burn its way down. “I’m still thinking about it. Jeff is offering good money, but I don’t have the time to babysit the Harrison princess. Besides, I never liked Jeff Harrison, and I doubt I’d like his daughter or her family. So why waste my fucking time protecting her?”

Dimitri sighs, a rare display of frustration from him. “We don’t have a choice, Kirill.”

I frown, setting my glass down. “What do you mean we don’t have a choice?”

“Jeff already sent the money,” Dimitri reveals, his voice heavy.

I stare at him, incredulous. “What… how?”

“He hired someone to drop the money in your office,” Dimitri explains. “It’s already there.”

I laugh, a sharp, humorless sound. “We can just return it to him, then. Problem solved.”

Dimitri’s expression darkens. “He’s dead, Kirill.”

The air grows tense, Dimitri’s words hanging over us like a storm cloud. My face hardens, a mix of anger and frustration boiling beneath the surface. My jaw clenches, hands balling into fists. I have one unbreakable rule: once I get the money, I get the job done.

With Jeff gone, there’s no one to return it to. The responsibility now falls squarely on my shoulders.

“Damn it!” I roar, kicking the table in front of me. The heavy wood skids across the floor, scattering glasses and bottles. The escorts nearby flinch, their eyes wide with fear, but they remain silent, knowing better than to intervene.

“It’s like I’m being forced to take this job,” I mutter, my voice a low growl. My chest rises and falls with each angry breath, the tension radiating off me in waves.

Dimitri steps forward, his hands raised in a calming gesture. “Kirill, we need to handle this. Jeff trusted us—trusted you—to protect his daughter. We can’t ignore that.”

Ivan, ever the stoic presence, nods in agreement. “He’s right, Brother. We have to see this through.”

My eyes flash with fury, but I take a deep breath, forcing myself to regain control. I can’t afford to lose my temper now. “What happened?” I finally ask, my voice still tinged with anger.

Dimitri shakes his head. “I don’t know the details. He passed away at home, apparently.”

I curse under my breath, my mind racing. The thought of being manipulated into this situation grates on me, but I know I have no choice. Once the money is taken, the job must be completed. It’s a matter of honor and reputation.

I pace for a moment, my anger simmering but controlled. “Fine. We’ll do it.”

Dimitri nods, relieved to see me calming down. “We’ll get it done. We always do.”

I take another deep breath, forcing a sense of calm over myself. I turn towards the scattered remains of our table and call out, “Girls, come back.”

The escorts slowly return, their eyes wary but eager to please. One of them, the brunette from earlier, approaches me with a sultry smile. She sits on my lap, her arms draping around my shoulders as she leans in to whispers a hello against my ear.

“Shut up and sit quietly,” I order.

The girl’s smile falters, but she obeys, settling into my lap without another word. The tension in the room eases slightly as the escorts resume their positions, trying to bring a semblance of normalcy back to the evening. Someone arrives to clear the table, and the floor where glasses shattered.

My mind, however, is far from at ease. The weight of this new responsibility presses down on me, a constant reminder of the task ahead. Protecting that stupid Harrison girl is now my duty, and I will see it through.

With the table fixed and order restored, Ivan waves over a waiter and orders more drinks for everyone. The tension in the air remains thick, but the steady rhythm of the club’s music and the arrival of fresh glasses of whiskey provide a momentary distraction.

I take a deep breath, trying to channel my anger into focus. “Dimitri,” I say, my voice still laced with frustration, “I want you to find out everything you can about Jeff Harrison’s death—when and how it happened, every detail. As much on the Harrison girl as you can. I want to know her schedule, her career, the places she frequents. Anything to make this job easier.”

Dimitri nods, his expression serious. “Understood, Kirill. I’ll get on it immediately.”

Ivan, ever the calm presence, takes a sip of his drink and looks at me.

“This complicates things, but we’ll handle it,” he says, his voice steady.

I nod, clenching my glass tightly. “We don’t have a choice. Once the money is taken, the job must be done. I want to know everything. I don’t like walking into situations blind.”

Dimitri leans in, his expression determined. “I’ll have the full report on your desk by morning. We’ll know everything there is to know about Violet Harrison and her father’s death.”

“Good,” I reply, taking a long drink of my whiskey. The burn is a welcome distraction, momentarily dulling the edge of my frustration. “Make sure our best men are on this. I don’t want any surprises.”

Ivan raises his glass, a silent toast to the task ahead. “We’ll get it done, Brother. You can count on that.”

Despite the tension, I feel a small measure of reassurance. Ivan and Dimitri have always had my back, and I trust them implicitly. But the anger still simmers beneath the surface, a constant reminder of the unwanted responsibility now thrust upon me.

“Jeff Harrison,” I mutter, shaking my head. “Always had a way of complicating things.”

Dimitri stands, ready to leave and begin the necessary preparations. “I’ll start gathering the information now. You’ll have everything you need.”

“Make sure you do,” I say, my tone firm. “Dimitri, I want every detail. Leave nothing out.”

He nods and walks away, leaving Ivan and me to finish our drinks. I look around the club, the opulence and luxury a stark contrast to the grim task ahead. I’ve faced worse, and I’ll face this with the same determination.

Ivan watches me, his expression unreadable. “You’re still angry,” he observes.

“Of course I am,” I snap, then take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “That doesn’t mean I won’t do the job properly. We protect Violet Harrison. No mistakes.”

Ivan nods, raising his glass again. “To getting the job done.”

“To getting the job done,” I echo, clinking my glass against his.