Chapter 18
Luka
Imake my way upstairs to the bar. Leon doesn’t look up from his glass when I drop into the corner booth next to him. “He went along with your plan,” he says.
“Thank fuck he did.”
“You know, we will have to give him an inch here or there.”
“Why? You’re the one who’s supposed to take over the business. Why do we need to play these stupid political games?” I pour a glass of my own.
“He has some of our people under his thumb. If we were to cut him off, he would likely stage a coup.”
“Fuck them.”
He sighs. “You know it’s not as easy as that. We’re vulnerable right now. We can’t afford to lose any men.”
“If he messes with the plan… I swear to God.” My fists clench in my lap.
“He won’t be there.”
I let out something between a snort and a huff. “Of course. The brave wannabe leader won’t show his face in public in case something goes wrong.”
“Yeah, well, it works in our favor this time.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s half-praying for shit to really go down so he could get rid of us.”
“Luka,” Leon grits out. “You’re spiraling now. Of course, he doesn’t want us dead.”
I lift an eyebrow at him. He gets uncomfortable under my gaze, so he says, “We also came to another agreement.” He’s stalling, meaning that whatever comes out of his mouth next, I’m going to hate. “We’ll take Sophie with us”
“What?” I yell, my voice startling the people in the booth next to us.
“He’s right.” I level him with a glare. “Partially. She’s of no use to us currently. And it’s better than sending her finger in an envelope.” He shrugs.
Rage builds inside of me as I inhale deeply. The worst thing is, he’s right. Appearing in public, alongside your enemies, shows strength. But appearing in public, alongside your enemies, with your enemy’s kidnapped daughter shows balls.
“You know it will trigger a reaction from them,” he adds.
“Hmmpf.” He gives me a minute to think it through before getting up from the booth.
“I’ll arrange for a dress to be delivered to her.”
So much for me having a say in it. “Ivan will handle the dress.”
It’s a cheap attempt at taking some power back, but it’s better than nothing.
I run a hand over my face before grabbing my phone.
I quickly shoot the info to Andre and Ivan and get the hell out of the club.
Toma’s men are not here, which means it’s a chance to get some rest at home. The dogs need me, too.
They rush to my feet as soon as I unlock the door. It’s the middle of the night, but I take them for a walk. They skip as if it’s midday on a warm spring day and I practically feel the tension pour out of me one step at a time.
I still hate the plan. But I’m going to be there. Nothing is going to happen. Not to my brother… and not to her.
Friday rolls around quickly. Our warehouse was in the papers yesterday, since it miraculously burned down like someone scorched it.
We also burned down two other warehouses, moving all our goods to new spots. It was a busy few days, and I barely spent any time at the club.
Ivan informed me a dress was delivered to Sophie, but knowing her, I’m not sure what to expect.
I can’t believe I ever thought of her as boring. She’s fiery, and principled, and so fucking smart. You never know what you’re going to get from her.
A pang of excitement hits my chest as I make my way down the stairs to the dungeon.
I unlock the door, only to find Sophie sitting at the little desk, her elbows perched on it, like she was waiting for me to come.
“What the hell is this?” She points to the clothing bag on the bed.
“A dress. You better hurry and put it on.”
“I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing, but I won’t take part in it.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest.
My eyes land on Marko, who lifts his arms in surrender motion. “There is no game. We have an event to attend.”
“And why would you need me to attend?” She huffs.
“Because your dad’s buddies will be there. And we want them to see you.”
Her eyes narrow even further. There’s no doubt she would kill me right now if she had the chance. “And you’re telling me that parading me around like a show pony to make your enemies angry isn’t a game I’m forced to play?”
She got me there. “I think you’re forgetting just where you are, mila.” I inch closer, towering over her. “This isn’t a question. It isn’t even a request. It’s a demand,” I spit out. “So take this dress, get in the bathroom, and put. It. On. Unless you’d prefer me dressing you right here.”
Her eyes widen this time, shock evident in them, but she still doesn’t move.
“Would you rather we start mailing your fingers? Because that was plan A,” I ask a hypothetical question, before turning back towards the door. “You have ten minutes. Make yourself look presentable.”
I make my way to the bar, tapping my fingers on the dark wood surface. Mia, or whatever her name is, approaches me, sticking her teeth into her bottom lip.
“I need a drink.”
“Sure.” The teeth release her bottom lip and her tongue snakes out to lick it. “What can I get you?” she asks, her gaze roaming over me.
Fucking tux.
“Rakia.” We added it to the bar, though no one outside of the family drinks it.
“Coming right up.” There’s a pep in her step, which I’m pretty sure is meant to make her ass jiggle.
And don’t get me wrong—she has a good ass. A great ass, if I’m honest. She’s been flirting with me ever since the first time I saw her. But the stress has been affecting my sex drive greatly.
With all the shit going on, fucking her is the last thing on my mind.
She brings the shot glass, filling it with see-through liquid and I down it in one sip, signaling her to pour another.
Maybe sex would relieve some of the stress?
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I take it out, only to see Marko’s text.
Marko
She’s ready.
I down the other shot, unbutton one more button of my black shirt, and go back downstairs.
I’m cranky and pissed off. Sophie is, too, that much I know. Which means she’ll make me crankier and more pissed off. I barge into the room, ready to fight, before my breath is knocked out of me.
The dress she’s wearing is modest, with only her arms on display, but it fits her like it was made for her.
The burgundy fabric traces her sculpted form, widening at her hips and trailing down to the floor.
Unlike the typical messy bun, her hair is now loose around her shoulders, falling down in gentle waves I’m pretty sure women pay good money for.
There’s not a speck of makeup on her face, but her cheeks are rosy, probably from rage.
I clear my throat. “Ready to go?”
“It’s not like I have a choice, do I?” she responds, walking towards the door. It’s then I notice her steps are awkward. She has heels on, and she’s likely not used to them.
Ivan did well with her outfit. Well, his girlfriend did. I just hope the rest of the night goes well, too.