Chapter 20
LEDGER
New York welcomes us back with rain and traffic that makes the drive from the airport take twice as long as it should.
Savannah sleeps against my shoulder in the back of the car, exhausted from the Paris trip. The business dinner was a success, the Mercier deal is as good as closed, and my wife proved she’s exactly what I always knew she was.
Perfect.
When we get to the penthouse, Marie has dinner waiting. Savannah eats half of it before falling asleep on the couch, and I carry her to bed, pulling off her shoes and covering her with a blanket.
She’s been working so hard. Too hard, maybe. Between adjusting to this life and dealing with early pregnancy exhaustion, she needs rest.
Which is why I’ve been planning something.
The next morning, I wake her with coffee and a croissant from the bakery she likes downtown.
“You’re being suspiciously nice,” she says, eyeing me over the rim of her cup.
“I’m always nice to you.”
“You’re always something. Nice isn’t always the word I’d use.” But she’s smiling. “What do you want?”
“Come with me.”
I lead her down the hall to the room next to my home office. It’s been empty since I bought the penthouse, just a spare room I never had use for. Until now.
I open the door, and Savannah gasps.
The room has been completely transformed.
A sleek desk sits in front of floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city.
There’s a comfortable leather chair, bookshelves already filled with marketing texts and business references, a couch for when she needs to think, and the latest computer setup money can buy.
“What is this?” she asks.
“Your office. I had it done while we were in Paris.” I watch her face as she takes it all in. “You’ve been working from the dining table, and that’s not sustainable. You need your own space.”
She walks to the desk, running her fingers over the smooth wood. “Ledger, this is too much.”
“Nothing is too much for you.” I lean against the doorframe. “You’re not going to the main office every day, not with Dmitri Kozlov still a threat. But that doesn’t mean you can’t work. This way, you have everything you need right here.”
“My own office.” She’s smiling now, genuine and bright. “In your penthouse.”
“Our penthouse. And yes, your own office. Complete with a door you can close when I’m being annoying.”
She laughs and crosses to me, wrapping her arms around my waist. “Thank you. This is perfect.”
“You’re perfect.” I kiss the top of her head. “Now get to work. I have a meeting with Silas in an hour, and I don’t want you distracting me.”
“I distract you?”
“Yes, you do.”
I leave her to explore her new space and head to my own office. Through the wall, I can hear her moving around, the soft sounds of her settling in.
An hour later, I check on her. She’s at her desk, laptop open, completely absorbed in whatever she’s working on. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts with leggings. She looks young and beautiful and completely at home.
“How’s it going?” I ask from the doorway.
She looks up, startled. “Good. Really good, actually. This setup is incredible. I’m working on the Q4 campaign revisions, and having a proper workspace makes everything so much easier.”
“I’m glad.” I cross to her desk and lean down to kiss her. “Marie’s making lunch in an hour. Don’t forget to eat.”
“I won’t.”
But I know she will. She gets absorbed in work and forgets about everything else, including food, which is why I’ll have Marie bring lunch to her office whether she asks for it or not.
Back in my own office, I review contracts and handle calls. The Paris deal is moving forward smoothly. The Chicago acquisitions are on track. The legitimate side of my empire runs like a well-oiled machine.
It’s the other side that requires constant attention.
Marie knocks softly. “Mr. Volkov, I’ve prepared lunch for you and Mrs. Volkov. Should I serve it in the dining room?”
“Bring mine here. Take hers to her office. And make sure she actually eats it.”
Marie smiles. “Of course, sir.”
Twenty minutes later, I hear Savannah’s voice down the hall. “Marie, you didn’t have to bring me lunch. I was going to take a break soon.”
“Mr. Volkov insisted.” Marie’s voice is warm, motherly. “He said you forget to eat when you’re working.”
“He’s not wrong.” A pause. “Thank you. This looks amazing.”
“It’s just a salad and some grilled chicken. Nothing fancy. But you need to keep your strength up for the baby.”
“I know. I’ve been so tired lately.”
“That’s normal for the first trimester. But you should rest when you can. Don’t let Mr. Volkov work you too hard.”
Savannah laughs. “I’ll try.”
I smile to myself. Marie has already adopted Savannah as part of the family. She mothers her the same way she mothers Alexi, making sure she eats and rests and takes care of herself.
It’s good. Savannah needs that. Needs people around her who care.
At 2:00 PM, my phone rings. Alexi.
“Hey, Dad. How was Paris?”
“Successful. Your stepmother impressed the hell out of the French investors.”
“She’s such a badass.” I hear traffic in the background. “I’m heading over in about an hour. Elena wants to meet Savannah properly. Is that cool?”
“Let me check with her first.”
I knock on Savannah’s office door and poke my head in. She’s on a call, but she waves me in. I wait until she hangs up.
“Alexi wants to come by with his girlfriend. Elena wants to meet you properly.”
Her face lights up. “Really? I’d love that.”
“You’re sure? If you’re too tired—”
“I’m not too tired to meet Elena. I’ve been wanting to meet her.”
I text Alexi. Come at four. Savannah’s excited to meet her.
Silas arrives at 2:30 PM with a folder full of problems I need to handle.
We sit in my office, and he lays it out. A shipment from Eastern Europe arrived at the docks yesterday. The usual goods, hidden inside legitimate hotel furniture and art pieces. But customs got suspicious.
“How suspicious?” I ask.
“Flagged three containers for additional inspection. Pedro had to call in our contact at the port authority to smooth things over.”
“And?”
“They passed inspection. But it was close.” Silas sets down the folder. “We need to be more careful. The feds are paying attention.”
“They’re always paying attention. That’s why we have people on the inside.”
“For now. But if this administration changes, those people might not be there anymore.”
He’s right. The network I’ve built relies on carefully placed contacts in law enforcement, customs, and city government. If those connections disappear, the whole operation becomes vulnerable.
“What about the distribution?” I ask.
“The merchandise moved to the network within twenty-four hours. No issues.”
“Good. And the councilman?”
Silas’s expression darkens. “Still blocking the permits for the Midtown development. He says he needs more ‘consulting fees’ to push it through.”
“How much does he want?”
“Another two hundred thousand. On top of the hundred we already gave him.”
I lean back in my chair. “He’s getting greedy.”
“He thinks he has leverage. The development can’t move forward without those permits, and he knows it.”
“Then we need to remind him who he’s dealing with.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing yet. I’ll handle this personally.” I check my watch. “Invite him to dinner. Tonight. Tell him I want to discuss the terms.”
“You sure that’s smart? Having him here, in your home?”
“He needs to understand that I know where he lives too.”
Silas nods and pulls out his phone to make the call.
After he leaves, I sit in my office and think about risk. About how every decision I make affects not just me, but Savannah. The baby. Alexi. Everyone I care about.
The Bratva operations fund the legitimate businesses. The legitimate businesses give me power and connections. The power and connections protect my family. It’s a cycle I can’t break without losing everything.
But maybe I need to start thinking about an exit strategy. A way to separate the criminal operations from my family. To give Savannah and our child a life that doesn’t involve customs inspections and greedy politicians and the constant threat of prison or worse.
Not yet. But someday.
Alexi and Elena arrive at four on the dot.
Elena is petite, with dark hair and sharp eyes, and has a confident handshake. She’s studying law at Columbia, and from the way she carries herself, she’s going to be damn good at it.
“Mr. Volkov,” she says. “It’s nice to finally meet you properly.”
“Call me Ledger. And it’s good to meet you too. Alexi talks about you constantly.”
“Dad,” Alexi groans.
Savannah appears from her office, and I watch as she and Elena size each other up. It’s subtle, the way women evaluate each other, but I see it.
Then Savannah smiles. “You must be Elena. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Same. Alexi won’t shut up about his stepmom.” Elena grins. “Though I have to say, it’s weird that you’re closer to his age than your husband’s.”
“Trust me, I’m aware.” Savannah laughs. “But Alexi makes it easy. He’s a good kid.”
“I’m right here,” Alexi says. “And I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-two.”
“Still a kid to me,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder.
We settle in the living room, and Marie brings tea and pastries.
Elena asks Savannah about her work, about Paris, about adjusting to this life. Savannah answers honestly, not hiding the difficulties but also sharing the good parts.
After an hour, Alexi and Elena leave to catch a movie. Savannah walks them to the door, and I hear her telling Elena to come by anytime.
When she comes back, she’s smiling. “I like her. I think she’s good for Alexi.”
“I think so too.”
“He’s happy. You can see it in the way he looks at her.” She sits next to me on the couch. “You raised a good man.”
“I tried. Wasn’t always sure I was doing it right.”
“You did it right.” She takes my hand. “He adores you. And he’s turning into someone you can be proud of.”
“I am proud of him.” I pull her closer. “And I’m proud of you too. The way you handled meeting Elena, making her feel welcome.”
She leans her head on my shoulder. “I’m trying.”
“You’re succeeding.”
We sit like that until Savannah’s stomach growls audibly.
“Dinner?” I suggest.
“Please. I’m starving.”
“I actually have a business dinner tonight. A city councilman who’s been causing problems.”
Her expression shifts. “Do you need me there?”
“No. This is something I need to handle alone.” I stand and help her up. “But you should eat. Antoine can make you whatever you want.”
“Will you be late?”
“Shouldn’t be. A couple of hours at most.”
Councilman Richard Hayes arrives at seven sharp.
He’s in his fifties, balding, with a gut that strains against his expensive suit. He’s been on the city council for fifteen years, long enough to build a network of corruption that would impress even me.
Marie shows him to the dining room, where I’ve had dinner prepared. Nothing fancy. Just steak and wine and the illusion of a friendly business meeting.
“Mr. Volkov.” Hayes extends his hand. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“Of course. I thought it was time we spoke face-to-face.” I gesture to the chair. “Please, sit.”
We make small talk while Marie serves the first course. Hayes compliments the penthouse, asks about my businesses, and plays the part of a man who thinks he’s in control of this situation.
He’s not.
“So,” he says, cutting into his steak. “About those permits.”
“Yes. The Midtown development. You’ve been holding them up.”
“Not holding them up. Just making sure all the proper procedures are followed.” He smiles. “These things take time.”
“They take time when you want more money.”
His smile doesn’t falter. “I prefer to call it consulting fees. I provide valuable guidance through the regulatory process.”
“You’ve already been paid a hundred thousand for that guidance.”
“The situation has become more complex. Additional consultations are required.”
I set down my fork and look at him so he sees exactly who he’s trying to extort.
“Tell me about your family, Richard.”
He blinks. “My family?”
“Yes. You have a wife, don’t you? Margaret. And two children. Sarah’s at Cornell, studying law. And James is still in high school. Plays lacrosse, I believe.”
The color drains from his face. “How do you—”
“I make it my business to know these things.” I lean back in my chair. “They live in that nice house in Westchester. The one with the blue shutters. Your wife gardens on weekends. Your son has practice every Thursday.”
“Mr. Volkov, I don’t respond well to threats.”
“I’m not threatening you, Richard. I’m simply pointing out that we all have families. People we care about. People who would be very sad if something happened to us.”
He’s sweating now. “I don’t appreciate—”
“You don’t have to appreciate it. You just have to understand it.” I take a sip of wine. “Those permits will be approved tomorrow. You’ll accept the hundred thousand you’ve already been paid, and you’ll consider that generous compensation for your services.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then I’ll have to assume you’re not the kind of man who values his family’s safety. And that would be very unfortunate.”
Hayes’s hand shakes as he picks up his wine glass. “The permits will be approved tomorrow,” he says quietly.
“I’m glad we could come to an understanding.” I stand. “Marie will show you out. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Richard. And give my regards to Margaret and the children.”
He leaves without finishing his meal.