Chapter 9 - Rafayel
Tikhon tapped my shoulder and leaned forward to mumble into my ears, giving the gist about a recent update on one of the casino houses in southern California and minor trouble one of our workers ran into with the cops. But I wasn’t listening.
We entered the room, and my gaze swept over the polished table lined with Italian and Russian officials holding higher-up ranks and past to the far end, where the girl sat poised and confident.
A week after our little tete-a-tete at the restaurant, I received a memo for an 8:00 AM meeting with the princess and her father’s men. Although, if there was anything I got from the twenty minutes of hushed conversation tossing back and forth between the Italians, another capo was in charge.
Obviously, the girl.
In the midst of able-bodied killer-machine men, she was the only woman. And the only person with a Styrofoam cup of black coffee on the table. No pressure. It just made it look easy, like we were in the middle of fingers hovering over triggers and eyes glaring murder at each other.
Among the selection of my men were Maxim and Vasili, and neither of them looked as enraged as I thought they would be. But others had it bad to draw blood.
The room was tense, thick enough to smell the testosterone in the air. Russians and Italians in one room never made a good mix. We had history. Bad history. And what was the saying about history?
It was never forgotten.
But no heads were rolling yet, so that was a good thing. She had the dogs on a tight leash, and I respected that. As long as we remained civil, everything would go as planned.
Her posture was a perfect portrait of authority as she offered me a curt nod and browsed through a stack of leather-bound folders with an expression unreadable.
Today, she scattered the image I’d saved of her in that black silk dress, replacing it with a corporate white button-up blouse on a brown high-waist skirt with a slit I was sure I wanted to see again. How she so easily changed her appearance into anything she wished, not aware of the repercussions that followed.
She looked harmless now, nothing like the wildcard she really was, and instead like a young, innocent girl signing a bunch of documents to effect a change of power in her father’s company.
“Shall we begin?” I strode to my seat at the head of the table, and silence reigned easily over the quiet murmurs.
Tikhon grabbed the chair beside me and took out a MacBook, probably to follow up every word they said with background research. Amongst other fine skills, he was good with computers.
Leonora leaned forward, her manicured fingers laced together. “We shall.”
“Great.” Placing my elbows on the armrest, I knitted my fingers. “You have my attention.”
“We need to discuss the details and terms of our agreement.”
I lifted a brow. “I thought we already did that nights ago.”
She cleared her throat. Leonora was smart enough to know she was the only one I intentionally recognized in the room and was speaking to. Every other person, in this moment, was a blur and was going to remain that way for as long as this meeting lasted.
“Elaborately,” she clarified. “You said you had some terms you wanted to review?”
I shrugged. “The profit. That was all.”
“Still. It was important to bring the men here to get acquainted while we elaborately discuss.”
“Okay. I’m waiting to hear all about your generous offer.”
Her lips twitched into the smallest smile before she withdrew to retrieve one of the folders in front of her. And when she started talking, I was starting to understand why Enzo treated her like an asset.
“Our economic data suggests a promising forecast for the joint ventures. If we proceed cautiously, both parties will see significant returns. You have an issue here, so I’ll pass the mic to you to air your thoughts on the split. Our offer is fifty-fifty.”
“Seventy-thirty. You need us more than we need you.”
Leonora narrowed her eyes. “We’ll stick with forty-eight percent. And that’s the end of it.”
I didn’t argue. This alliance between my family and Leonora's had the potential to reshape the landscape of our operations.
“Our collaboration on the shipping routes will cut costs by nearly forty percent. Your ports in the East are strategically placed, but they lack the distribution networks we’ve already established.”
She wasn’t wrong. Their logistical network was unmatched—routes that threaded through cities like veins, connecting supply chains with brutal efficiency. In return, our control over the eastern ports gave us the power to funnel goods without scrutiny. If we worked together, we’d dominate the underground market from production to delivery.
“Access to our financial channels ensures that both families can launder funds seamlessly,” I added, smiling when her eyes locked with mine. “With fewer intermediaries, we’ll increase profitability and reduce risks of exposure.”
One of the men nodded in agreement, and I had to blink to catch a clearer picture. He wasn’t familiar, but seemed wise. He looked like he didn’t like me, but he concurred with my thoughts.
Our financial system was airtight—banks, shell companies, and even legitimate businesses woven into a perfect facade. It was something her family had been struggling to replicate for years.
“And let’s not forget manpower,” Leonora continued, leaning back slightly. “Your security teams are unparalleled, Rafayel. Pair that with the intelligence my family can provide, and we’ll eliminate threats before they become problems.”
That was the crux of it. This wasn’t just an alliance; it was a consolidation of power. The Colombos’ connections with corrupt officials and their knack for gathering intelligence complemented our brute force and economic control.
We’d be untouchable.
“And,” I said, letting a small smile tug at the corner of my mouth, “there’s the added benefit of mutual deterrence.”
Leonora’s eyes sparkled with something close to satisfaction. But before she opened her mouth, someone else shifted outside the blur.
He stuck his mouth close to her ear, and his hair brushed her neck when she shifted closer to hear him. It disturbed me that she looked comfortable enough to turn to him with a genuine smile that I’d never been a first-hand witness of.
What started as an uncomfortable pinch gnawing at the back of my mind inflated in the hollows of my chest until the hair on my skin rose and heat prickled over my neck at the back of my ear.
I gritted my teeth.
What was this? And who the fuck was he?
Amusingly, this man was familiar. I’d seen him stand guard by Enzo a few times at social events, and if I recalled correctly, I’d heard his name more than a few times.
“Marco.”
Startled, he turned, and I ignored her questioning gaze.
“Marco, is it?”
“ Si . It is.”
“I’m not sure how it works where you come from, but an interruption like that in a meeting as important as this is unacceptable unless it’s connected to the discussion at hand.”
Murmurs broke out, more in Italian undertones than Russian. They questioned my audacity to speak to one of their own with such incredulous authority. Vasili’s hand hovered below his jacket, and Maxim’s side-eye waited for a signal.
I shook my head, and Vasili released his hand from his belt.
Beside me, I caught Tikhon’s exasperated eye roll, and the other two Italian culprits exchanged glances. Marco sat upright, chest out, and eyes meaning business. He’d caught my insinuation, and I assumed by his body language that he didn’t like it.
As if I gave a fuck what he cared.
“As a matter of fact, it was connected to the discussion. We’re displaying everything on the table, but we’ve barely gotten any assurances from your end, except an informal confirmation of your acceptance.”
I didn’t bother with him. I faced her.
“Last time I checked, you came to me. Not the other way round.”
Leonora offered Marco a cryptic smile and touched his arm. I suppressed a frown at the movement, keeping my eyes on her face instead.
“Marco is Papa’s right hand. You can understand why he has his reservations.”
“No, I cannot.” My seat suddenly felt hot, and the sight of her hand still lingering on his arm disturbed me enough to want to shoot something. Or better yet, shove his reservations down his throat.
Tikhon grumbled indistinctly under his breath, but I caught the Russian words about breaking a sweat. My frustration might not be obvious to the others in the room, but he was catching every waving signal.
My lips twitched into a half-smile. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I prefer to keep my cards close to my chest. Actions speak louder than words. I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. If either of you doubted the prospects of this alliance, you would not be seated here.”
My small speech seemed to calm Marco down, and Leonora gave a convincing nod of gratitude, however brief. The rest of our conversation flowed with a mix of tension and precision, every word weighted, every glance calculated. I could feel the undercurrents of their ambition in the room, which was as charged and eager as ours.
By the time we adjourned, the outlines of the alliance were firming up, though the details would take a few more days to finalize. As we rose from our seats, my men followed Tikhon out of the door, and Leonora whispered to Marco before her heels approached me. I didn’t miss the murderous look in Marco’s eyes directed at me before he led her men out of the office.
The door closed, and I perched at the edge of the table, one leg kicked out and my hand crossed over my thighs when she drew nearer.
Up close afforded me a better view of the slit on her skirt cutting high above knee-level that I itched to see again.
“So, you and your bodyguard, huh?”
A faint smile touched her lips. “You handle pressure well.”
“Is that mockery?”
She shrugged, her eyes teasing. “Maybe.”
“You should do a better job because I’m taking that as a compliment, and unlike you, I’m not selfish with compliments. You impress me with the way you navigate power plays like a pro. And I’m not easily impressed.”
Her smile deepened, but she didn’t respond. Instead, her shoulders sagged, and she grabbed the chair I’d occupied seconds ago before collapsing on it. When she peered up at me through thick, long lashes, I saw the exhaustion written all over her face.
“Don’t tell me a one-hour meeting has you wrung out.”
Leonora scoffed. “As if. Don’t flatter yourself. Three hours could have slipped by, and I’d be just fine.”
“Sure. Your slouched back on that chair is so convincing.”
“Asshole,” she murmured under her breath, but she was smiling.
What was strange was how seemingly normal it was to make small talk after a tense meeting—like it was second nature, and we did it all the time. It was almost like we existed in a world where she didn’t hate my guts and didn’t annoy the hell out of me.
“And, by the way, that’s not the only thing I’m pro at.”
“What?”
Aggressively, she rolled a hand in the air. “You called me a pro.”
“Is that right? And it stuck in your head because you can’t believe the almighty one would praise the Italian princess for using her brain. Gee, how sweet is that?”
“Are you always like this?”
“Always like what?”
Her cheeks flushed a shade of scarlet, and she looked anything but mad when her eyes met mine. “Always so full of shit sometimes. Before you interrupted me, I was saying, that’s not the only thing I’m professional at.”
I cocked my head to the side to make sure I heard correctly, and when she caught onto the silent allegation, she rolled her eyes. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Yezhov. I’m talking about the track. I’m one hundred percent better behind wheels than navigating through business power plays, in your words. I’m also great at kicking ass.”
I had no doubt about that.
“Ten thousand dollars says I’d hand your ass over to you and make you bite the dust.”
“Uh, excuse me, what ?” Her eyes lit up with an unmistakable glow, and her laughter was immediate, loud, throaty, and less feminine. But I didn’t mind when I liked the sound of it—genuine, like it was ripped straight from her soul.
Tears rolled down her cheeks when she composed herself, with her pearly whites still on full display. “I’m sorry. It’s just... I’m not trying to brag or anything, but you’re talking to a champion. I’d stake my hundred thousand dollars, knowing fully well that I’d be getting it back. If anyone’s handing over anyone’s ass, it’ll be from me to you. Your ass in my hand.”
I was sure it wasn’t her intention, and that wasn’t the effect she was aiming for, but that sounded fucking hot. And my cock seemed to think so, too.
“Remember: Actions speak louder than—”
“Inexperience? That had better be what you wanted to say.”
It was my turn to laugh. “Never underestimate your opponent, Leonya . I used to spend a lot of time on the track, too, when I had the time.”
“You mean during your more youthful days, don’t you? When you were younger and could hit it right?”
She did it again, coating her seemingly harmless comment with suggestive innuendos, and, at this point, I had no clue if it was intentional. The red burn at the top of her ears and the sudden stretch of her eyes made me think she knew she’d accidentally crossed a line.
Whichever it was, intentional or not, it was working. An instant rush to prove her wrong overcame me. I wanted to show her just how right I could hit it.
But she was faster on her feet, like a fleeing culprit. She ran a hand over her hair to smoothen unruly strands.
“I know a guy who owns a track—name’s Gavin. All I need to do is talk to him and we should be clear for this evening.”
“This evening?” Her zest was commendable. “Are you that excited to be defeated?”
“You run your mouth too much, Yezhov.”
I stood up, eliminating what little space was left between us. She was almost pressed against my chest when I leaned in, with our noses almost touching. “And you would be surprised how well I can put it to good use. Come prepared, Leonya. Today’s the day you’ll get your ass handed to you.”
She didn’t say anything. Instead, with a wry grin, she turned and walked away, leaving me to wonder whether this partnership would bring more gain—or more trouble.