Chapter 1
1
Four years later
London
A rmaan Oshnov entered the basement of his mansion in London, walking toward the dim light in the center of the vast space. The sound of flesh being pounded, tortured groans, and heavy breathing reached his ears. The smell of blood and sweat was thick in the air around him. Two of his most trusted men, Arlo and Vasily, were roughing up a man bound and tied to a chair. Armaan’s knuckles twitched as he looked at the man—a phantom reaction to past pain, a sharp reminder of the numerous physical fights Armaan had gotten into with this very same man in their younger years.
The man’s eyes landed on Armaan and widened in recognition.
Armaan stepped forward. “Hello, Dorab. I’ve been looking for you.”
“A…Armaan, it’s you.” And then Dorab spat on the floor, looking defiant as ever.
Armaan sighed. Even bloodied and bruised, his former orphanage mate had the same chip on his shoulder that he’d carried for as long as Armaan had known him—a sign of a bully through and through. He even looked the part. Dorab had grown to be bulkier, meaner, and uglier. His skin looked hard and blemished, various scars crisscrossed his body, and his eyes held that same revulsion he’d always felt for Armaan during those years they had lived together. Time definitely hadn’t been kind to the man. Dorab had always been a snake, but he was also the only one who could give Armaan the answers he sought. Patience and violence were the only ways to deal with assholes like him. So, Armaan waited. He stood still, allowing Dorab to take his time to assess him.
Dressed in a black shirt, a bespoke black suit, and polished shoes, Armaan knew he looked wealthy and privileged. Sure enough, Dorab’s face filled with envy.
“W… where am I?” Dorab looked around the dull and drab room.
“You’re in the basement of my house,” Armaan replied.
The man’s eyes turned to saucers as realization hit him. “You were the one who gave me the…”
“Once we found you, it was easy to lure you into a trap and bring you to London from India.”
“Why? What do you want from me?” Dorab asked.
“I think you know the answer to that, don’t you?” Armaan sneered.
A wall of darkness descended on the man’s face as he understood Armaan’s words. He lifted his chin and tilted his head to the side, saying nothing.
Armaan lifted a hand. “Again.”
In response, his men landed several punches on Dorab’s face. Yet, he grinned arrogantly. Fuck. Some things truly never changed with time. Dorab knew what Armaan was after, and despite the beatings, he remained silent.
Memories flashed through Armaan’s mind—of years spent coexisting with bullies like Dorab in the orphanage. The orphanage was a place where each child fought for their own self so they could survive in that environment. However, amidst all that violence, poverty, and chaos, Armaan had found a family—not related by blood, but connected by heart.
His chosen family—Armaan, Vedant, Mihir, and… Even now, years later, his chest still hurt to utter her name. He and his brothers had all failed her in the worst possible way. Thanks to their na?veté and inexperience, they had lost her… their sister… Karina, the fourth one in their quartet. And the man responsible for her disappearance was now in front of him, finally found after months of searching.
Armaan studied his one-time archenemy. As a child, Dorab had been older and stronger than most of the orphans, and he’d used that to his advantage often enough, beating the kids into submission, until Armaan and his brothers had grown up and started challenging his dominance. Dorab had been disliked by everyone at the orphanage. Except her… Karina. Somehow, this weasel had wormed his way into her soft heart and she’d believed the best in him, believed that he was capable of being better. So innocent she’d been. And so bloody wrong!
Karina… God, he missed her. Fourteen years had passed. Fourteen long years… in which the brothers had thought that she had left them and run away to find happiness with the asshole in front of him. She’d left them a letter, requesting them not to look for her and that she was never returning. They had tried for weeks to find her, but it had all been a futile exercise. She’d disappeared into thin air. Her defection had broken him and his brothers. In the end it had also been the reason that the three of them had readily left India and moved to Russia.
Armaan raised a hand, and his men stepped to the side.
“Using your minions to do your dirty work doesn’t suit you, Armaan,” Dorab scorned, gaping at him through his swollen eyes. “Why don’t you untie me and fight me yourself? Or do you think you can’t take me on? After all, you never could as a kid.”
Armaan huffed out a laugh. “We both know that’s a lie. Besides, if I were the one hitting you, you’d be dead by now. Fortunately for you , you’re not worth my time.”
“Or ours,” another voice said from behind Armaan.
“He’s still a scumbag, like he always was,” a third voice joined in.
Armaan continued to face his captive as both his brothers stepped out from the darkness and flanked his sides. By himself, Armaan knew he was a force to reckon with, but the three of them together… they were formidable and dangerous.
Dorab had finally realized the danger he was in because his face contorted in fear, and he began to struggle against his restraints.
“Where is she?” Mihir, the eldest in their trio, asked, arms crossed on his chest.
“I don’t know…” Dorab’s voice quavered.
Vedant, the youngest and quietest of the three of them, knelt in front of Dorab. He settled his black-rimmed glasses on his nose, studying him. “For the longest, we believed that Karina ran off with you. After all, she’d left a note for us, telling us that. We hoped and prayed that she’d managed to make you a better person, that perhaps she’d be happy even with you.”
Mihir continued, “In her note, Karina had told us not to look for her and that she was delighted to be with you. Nonetheless, we left our contact with the old staff at the orphanage so that if Karina ever reached out, they could get in touch with us.”
“For years, we never got a call from them,” Armaan took over. “But then one day, a few months ago, a call came, and do you know what we heard?” Armaan gave him a hard look. “We were informed that you had finally returned to Rishikesh without Karina and that you had told someone you hadn’t seen her in years. We also learnt that you were down and out, moneywise, looking for anything that’ll get you easy money.”
“After that, it was so easy to lure you,” Armaan continued. “We simply spread the news among our old contacts that the orphanage had a benefactor willing to leave a million dollars to an orphan who deserved it. We made sure the news reached you. Like a dog sniffing a bone, you went begging to the orphanage management, just like we wanted. We put a condition that in order to claim the money, you’d have to come to London, and we even provided the money to get you here. The weasel that you are, you bought the story, and just like that… here we are.”
“That bitch!” Dorab stormed. “It has to be Mrs. Braganza who told you. She always took your side even then. I will kill her when I see her next.”
“Was it her? Or could it have been someone else?” Armaan asked. “There were many in the old staff who were fond of us and disliked you.”
“From now on, your life is in our hands,” Vedant said, his tone cold. “You will live only if we allow you to.”
Dorab’s face further twisted in rage.
“So, I’m going to ask again,” Mihir took over. “Where is Karina and what did you do to her?”
“I don… don’t know,” Dorab stammered. “I swear I don’t know where she is.”
Vedant stepped away, and Armaan tilted his head towards one of his men. “Break his hands, one by one, and do it slowly.”
One of his men untied Dorab’s hands and the other came forward with a hammer. Genuine terror now flickered on Dorab’s face. All his smugness was gone with the threat of real danger. “I… I swear I don’t know where she is.”
The sound of bones shattering was followed by loud screams.
When his man raised the hammer to Dorab’s other hand, he yelled, “Stop, I’ll tell you. Please.”
Armaan lifted his chin. “Speak. Why did Karina agree to go with you?”
“S… she thought we were going to Delhi for a trip. She’d never been anywhere, and I told her that we’d return in a day.”
“And that note?” Mihir asked.
“She left a note informing you that she’d be back in a day or so. I exchanged it with the one you saw finally.”
Anger coursed through Armaan at that deception and their na?veté in falling for it.
“Then?” Vedant asked.
“I… I took Karina to Delhi, and then I sold her to someone there. But…”
Before Armaan could even process what he’d heard, Vedant smashed his fist against Dorab’s face, once and then again and again.
“Fucking bastard!” Vedant roared, his eyes wild with uncharacteristic rage. Vedant was the least violent of the three of them. But Armaan didn’t blame him for his utter lack of control now. They all had failed their sister. They had believed a damn note when they should have believed that she’d never disappear on them.
“Fuck,” Armaan swore. Fear spread through his veins. Karina… Oh God. She was… she was… God, was she even alive? Fury, unlike any other, blinded him. He was going to kill this evil bastard for what he had done to their sister. However, through all the rage, pain, and chaos swirling in his brain, Armaan noticed that Dorab was trying to say something.
“Wait, brother…” Armaan pulled Vedant back. “I want to hear what else this bastard has to say.”
“I should cut his tongue off after what he said,” Vedant, stormed. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Vedant, wait,” Mihir commanded. He turned to Dorab, whose face now looked like it had gone through a grinder.
“Talk.” Armaan took a menacing step forward, his fists aching to have a go at this vile human.
“She ran away,” Dorab said quickly. “She ran away.”
Armaan paused and shared a confused look with his brothers.
“How do we know you’re not lying?” Armaan asked.
“She stabbed me with a… a knife,” Dorab said, panting, his eyes moving to his arm with the broken hand, where there was, indeed, a large, jagged scar running from his elbow to his wrist.
“It was a small k… knife, serrated and sharp,” Dorab hurried on. “I didn’t even know she had it on her. The man I’d sold her to was my boss. He didn’t know either. I’d only recently started working for him. She attacked him first, punching him in the face and stomach, and then stabbing his shoulder. When I tried to stop her, she stabbed me too. After that, I don’t know where she went. I swear it… please.”
“Why should we believe you?” Armaan repeated.
“I’m not lying, please…”
“Who was your boss?”
“He’ll kill me if I tell you his name.”
Mihir laughed. “What makes you think we will leave you alive?”
“I’ve seen what he does to traitors. I’d prefer to die at your hands than at his…” Dorab said. “You can kill me, but I won’t reveal his name to you. Ever.”
“I want to know why you did it,” Armaan hissed. “She liked you. She was kind to you when you didn’t even deserve it. Why do that to her?”
“Because I overheard the three of you talking of leaving with that rich man, and that you’d take her with you.” Dorab spat out some blood. “You all would get everything, and I hated it. I wanted you all to suffer, so I took away the one person who meant everything to you three.”
His cruel words made Armaan lose whatever control he’d been holding on to till now. He swung his fist out and slammed it against Dorab’s jaw. Blood spurted out of his mouth, his eyes rolled back, and his head drooped as he lost consciousness.
Fucking asshole.
Leaving him behind, Armaan followed his brothers as they made their way to their study upstairs. This room was their den, their own personal retreat, and they had recreated such a room in their homes in Dubai and Moscow as well. With dark hardwood floors, dark walls lit only by lamps at night, a burgundy leather desk, and Chesterfield sofas in that same shade with a lit fireplace on the side, this room was warm and inviting as always.
Armaan went straight to the wood and leather bar and poured a shot of Vodka into three tumblers, handing one to each of his brothers. They settled in the armchairs around the fireplace, all of them silent.
The quiet of the study was broken only by the muted sounds of the party going on in the lawns outside. The somber ambience of the room was at odds with the flashing lights crisscrossing inside through the windows.
The Oshnovs were known for the parties they hosted, and tonight’s party was an annual celebration that they always did for their birthday. It was planned way before they had gotten the news that Dorab had taken the bait and was headed to London. Not that they could change the date of the party, even if they wanted to. It was New Year’s Eve, after all, and the eve of their birthday.
This year was the fourth year that Armaan and his brothers were celebrating without their adopted father. Alexander had passed away five years ago, and they all missed him sorely. They had promised each other to uphold this tradition of celebrating New Year’s Eve in a grand way as a tribute to the great man who had taken them in and had become a father to them.
On any other night, Armaan would be outside, partying the night away, allowing himself to get swayed by a beautiful woman’s charms. But tonight, he wasn’t in the mood to even attend his own birthday celebration. None of them were. In front of him, both his brothers held their glasses, neither of them talking. All of them were quiet, reflecting on what they had just learned about their lost sister.
Armaan stared into the transparent liquid. “Do you think Dorab is telling the truth?”
“I think he was.” Mihir leaned back in his armchair. “That knife she had on her—I’d given it to her a few days before. I’d been teaching her self-defence and how to use the knife if she was ever in danger. She was capable of protecting herself, and if there were only two men, then maybe she did get away.”
Mihir looked at both of them, his expression sad. “This is all on me. If I had told her the plan?—”
“Stop, please…” Armaan interrupted him. “It wasn’t your fault. You were a kid, and you wanted the best for all of us. And after listening to him today, nothing you could have done would have changed the outcome. He had planned to destroy us, and he did it.”
“I agree with him.” Vedant downed his shot. “Let’s look forward. There is no reason to dwell on the past.”
When Mihir still remained quiet, Armaan said, “You need to stop feeling guilty, brother. We need to find her. That is what we need to focus on.”
“What if Dorab is lying?” Vedant pocketed his glasses, deliberately changing the subject. “With the story he’s spinning, we have no way to even begin searching for Karina. Fuck, I just want to return downstairs and kill that bastard.”
“We need the name of the man he was working for before you do that,” Mihir said, his expression filled with vengeance.
“I think we should let him go,” Armaan said, looking at his brothers.
“What?” Vedant gasped. “Are you mad? He’s the only lead we have to find Karina.”
Mihir quietly stared at Armaan, waiting for him to continue.
“Keeping him with us and forcing him to talk could take time. I saw his eyes when he spoke of his old boss. He is genuinely afraid of him, more than he is of us. If we let him go, then he’ll find some way to run back to India. He can be resourceful when he wants to be. We only need to put a tail on him to track his movements. If he’s still working for the same man, then he will go to him and report on what he went through with us, possibly to remain in his good graces. If, by a long shot, and I hope to God that is not the case, Karina is still with them, or they know where she is, they will either go to her or bring her to them. Our men can lay in wait to help her if she’s in trouble and bring her to us. If she’s not with them and she actually ran away, then we can close that door and start searching elsewhere.”
“What if it’s a dead end?” Vedant asked quietly. “What if she’s dead?”
“ Nyet . No,” Mihir rejected the thought at once. “If she ran away, then she would have survived. We taught her enough to be self-reliant. She would have thrived.” Mihir looked at Armaan. “She’s alive. I can feel it in my bones that she ran away, and that she’s safe.”
“Then why hasn’t she tried to reach out to us?” Vedant asked.
“Because she doesn’t know that we went to Russia with Alexander and that he adopted us. We didn’t tell her that plan,” Armaan replied. “Or maybe she’s in hiding and doesn’t want to approach the orphanage for fear of getting caught.”
“Only Karina can give us the answers we seek, and for that, we need to find her.” Mihir drank his shot. “Let’s go ahead with your plan, Armaan.”
Armaan nodded. He lifted his phone and spoke into it, giving instructions to his two men in the basement.
“Are you sure Mrs. Braganza and the other caretakers from the orphanage are safe?” Vedant asked Armaan.
“Yes,” he responded. “Mrs. Braganza has moved to Mumbai, and the others have returned to their villages where they have family. They are safe.”
“Good,” Mihir said.
Vedant nodded.
Armaan looked at his brothers—his chosen family. They had risen from the ashes of poverty and achieved success, together. They were each other’s support system, and Armaan couldn’t even imagine a life without the two of them. Ever since they’d learned that Karina wasn’t with Dorab, as they had assumed her to be, each of them had been feeling guilty of having succeeded and living a good life, while the fate of their sister was undetermined. The fact that she was even alive was… uncertain. No. He wasn’t going to think like that. Mihir was right. Karina was alive and they were going to find her.
Vedant sighed. “I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but this morning, I’ve learned that Ivan is up to something. He’s planning to create complications for us during the shareholder meeting we have next week. I believe he’s been talking to some of the directors.”
Armaan shared a worried look with Mihir. “I thought that bastard was satisfied after you gave him ten million dollars and the home in Leningrad.”
“Greed, apparently, has no bounds.” Mihir scratched his cheek, the one that was marked by a thin, long white scar. “Ivan believes he’s been cheated out of his inheritance. He was, after all, Alexander’s nephew and his only living blood relative. He’s always believed that we’ve stolen what was due to him.”
“Well, he’s finally voicing out his displeasure loudly,” Vedant said, “and to anyone ready to listen.”
“Fucker never liked us,” Armaan said. “And after Alexander left everything to us, with only some minor shares to him, he hates us even more. We ought to have expected this from him. He was always a good-for-nothing loser, which is why Alexander didn’t leave him control of O-Corp.”
“Why now, though?” Vedant asked. “He’s been quiet for the last five years.”
“Possibly because the bastard expected us to fail,” Armaan said. “That we’d make a mess of O-Corp, and hence the board would kick us out, and he’d gain control of the business. As if.”
“Exactly,” Mihir concurred. “Too bad for him that failure is not a word in any of our dictionaries.”
“Looks like he’s finally woken up to that fact,” Vedant said. “I don’t have a good feeling about him.”
“This is a big fucking headache,” Mihir said. “We all need to be cautious. He’s a loose cannon… always has been.”
“I’ll try and see what I can learn about his plans for the meeting for now,” Vedant said. “This is a fucking headache, indeed. Our plates are already too full, and now we have this.”
“I’ll keep track of Dorab and hope he leads us to Karina,” Armaan said, finishing his drink. He rose and poured himself another one. When he returned to his seat, he found Vedant watching him carefully.
Armaan threw an agitated hand in the air. “What? What have I done now?”
“ You need to be extra careful.”
“Why me?” Armaan queried.
“Because you’re wild, unpredictable, and take risks when you shouldn’t,” Vedant replied.
Armaan made a face at him.
“He’s right, brother,” Mihir said. “You need to be careful, and now since we know that Ivan is up to something, you need to stay under the radar a bit, which means less partying. I need you to be safe at all times.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, both of you,” Armaan shook his head irritably. “I can look after myself, as you both well know. Besides, you’re advising me to cut down on my partying when there’s literally a party happening outside on our lawns.”
“Our house is heavily guarded, and it’s safe,” Mihir said. “I’m talking about when you go out to some new haunt in whichever city you’re in and return only in the morning.”
“Oh, and let’s not forget all the women,” Vedant added. “All those random hookups need to stop.”
“God, yes,” Mihir concurred. “In the end, it’ll always be a woman who’ll get you in trouble. You need to sober up and keep it in your pants. Are you capable of doing that?”
Vedant barked out a laugh. The idiot was having way too much fun on his account.
“Aww. Don’t be jealous of my sex drive,” Armaan drawled. “I could hook you both up with stunning women. Just say the word.”
“Ugh, no,” Vedant protested. “I’m happy finding my own women. Unlike you, I have taste.”
“Yeah, right,” Armaan scoffed.
“The day I need your help to hook up with a woman will be my last day on this planet,” Mihir said.
Armaan studied Mihir. “Hmm, when exactly was the last time you went out with a woman? Or had sex? Celibacy doesn’t suit you, big brother. You’re even worse of a grump than you were before.”
“I’d have to agree with Armaan on that,” Vedant said. “You need to get laid?—”
“Enough, both of you,” Mihir groused. “How the fuck did we move from Armaan being careful to my sex life?”
“Your non-existent sex life, you mean,” Armaan teased.
Vedant looked at Armaan, and they both burst out laughing. Mihir rolled his eyes, but Armaan did not miss the ghost of a smile on his face. His elder brother needed to smile more often. They had challenges galore ahead of them, but Armaan knew that the three of them could face anything put in their way as long as they were together. And once they found Karina, their broken circle would be complete again. God, even thinking of her made his chest ache.
There was a knock on the door, and one of their bodyguards, Tyrion, entered.
“Your guests are waiting for you,” the man said in Russian.
“We’re coming,” Mihir answered, also in Russian. All of them spoke Russian fluently, and it was also the language in which they usually spoke to each other.
After their man left, Mihir said, “Duty calls. I have some Arabs I’ve invited to discuss the new oil pipeline.”
Vedant reluctantly put his glass down and donned his specs again. “I, too, have some bankers waiting for me. Parties are always a good place to conduct business. All the drinks and food make them more amenable to agreeing to our terms.”
His brothers stood.
When Armaan didn’t follow, Mihir frowned. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I think I’ll take a pass on tonight.”
“Hey, you know we didn’t mean that you shouldn’t attend the party tonight,” Vedant said.
“It’s not that,” Armaan replied. “It’s just that after what went down with Dorab, I’ve lost the mood and the inclination to party. I feel as if I failed her.”
“We will find her, brother,” Mihir vowed. “But this party is a tradition we have to uphold. Vedant and I will wait for you. Papa would want you to be with us, celebrating our birthday.”
Noting Armaan’s silence, his brothers exited, leaving him to his thoughts. He drowned his vodka and rested his chin on his fist, thinking. God, what a fuck all day it had been so far. Dorab had hardly given them anything concrete to look for their sister, and now their adopted cousin was stirring up trouble. Added to that, the party outside… It always seemed so incomplete to celebrate without their dear Papa. Tonight, he was really missing their old man. He’d have known exactly what to do and would have been able to guide them correctly.
To the world, Alexander Oshnov had been cold, ruthless, and dangerous. But his sons remembered him fondly as someone who was not only bold, brilliant, and sharp, but also kind and wonderful. By taking in three homeless orphans, he’d not only given them a chance at a better life, but he’d also made them his heirs. In the present day, the three of them owned one of the biggest fortunes on the planet. Alexander had taught them all they needed to know about his businesses and made them capable so they could manage his vast empire after he was gone. Armaan knew he was one of the rare ones to have found such a privileged fate. He and his brothers revered the legacy Alexander had left them with. Familiar grief washed over him. He still wasn’t completely over losing Alexander.
His phone beeped with text messages. Quickly reading them, Armaan lifted his iPad from a side table. He played the camera feed and his eyes widened. His heart rate jumped as he recognized who was standing on his lawns, creating a ruckus. As was expected from her.
Tigritsa. His tigress. She was here, in his home?! Now wasn’t that a very pleasant surprise? His lips curved. Navya Mehra, the only woman who’d instantly snagged his attention since that very first time he’d touched her. Renewed energy burst through his veins. Not surprisingly, she was the one person who could make him forget everything, his grief and sadness included.
He studied the video again, pausing on her image. His heartrate jack-knifed. Damn, the effect of this woman hadn’t simmered down despite the years and the distance between them.
Four years back, after she’d hosed him down with a bloody fire hose, no less, Mihir had struck a deal with her brother that they’d all leave the Mehra sisters alone, as long as the girls stayed away from them and never crossed their paths again.
His smile broadened. Navya Mehra had walked into his house, into his party of her own free will. Looks like his late father had sent him the best birthday gift ever.
Thank you, Papa. You always knew me too well. Whispering those words of thanks in his head, Armaan stood and straightened his jacket. Guess he was going to his party after all. Happy birthday to him!