Chapter 11
KAZIMIR
Roman doesn't call meetings at the fight club offices unless he's angry.
I've been racking my brain trying to figure out who sent that damn text message to Gregor when it's fucking obvious I never sent it.
I called the man seven times in the past few hours, ever since Timur bitched at me to be at this meeting, and he won't answer a thing. He lost a lot of money.
Stepan is leaning against the hallway outside the door with his arms folded when I reach the landing.
The look of disappointment on his face is enough punishment.
Step and I are like best friends, have been since we were kids.
Him pushing me to vet Zora set me off, but usually, we get along great.
Today, he has that look on his face that says "I told you so", but I did nothing wrong.
"He's been on the phone for twenty minutes," Stepan says. "Somebody lost a lot of money on a bet they say you told them to make."
"I didn't tell anyone to make any bet," I growl, feeling just as pissed as everyone else, maybe more so. They're catching flak from someone who is pissed off with me. I'm the one who is getting blamed for bullshit I didn't do.
Stepan sighs through his nose and pushes the door open for me. I stalk in and see Timur sitting at the desk with his laptop open and his eyes locked on the screen. Ro stands by the window with his phone pressed to his ear, and when he sees me, he ends the call without saying goodbye.
"Sit down," he orders. His tone of voice isn't pleasant, either. I can tell he's really pissed and he has every right to be. Someone is fucking with us.
Stepan follows me in and closes the door behind him and takes the chair against the wall as I sit down and rub the back of my neck. Heat creeps up into my cheeks as I grit my teeth. I'm about to have my ass handed to me for no reason.
Roman paces behind the desk with his hands in his pockets, glaring at me. He hasn't looked at me like this in years, not since I was in a mess and needed his help coming clean. I hate feeling that shame creeping back in.
"Three bettors came to me this morning," he says. "Gregor passed on your little tip and—"
"I didn't send those tips," I interrupt, which is brave considering Ro could end me right here. He ignores the fact that I've spoken over him and sighs hard, running a hand through his hair.
"They have messages, Kazimir—from your number.
Telling them to back fighters who had no business being backed.
" He stops pacing and plants both hands on the table and leans forward.
"Do you understand what this does to us?
These aren't street-level gamblers. These are men who bring six figures to every card and they've been loyal to this family for years.
If they walk, others follow. And if others follow, we lose the revenue that funds half of what we do. "
"I understand what's at stake." Being told all of this like I’m a bad child is humiliating. I didn't do what they think I did, and I don't know why it's being pinned on me. For all I know, Gregor is pissed about something else and he's pulling shit.
"Then explain to me how Gregor has a message on his phone from your number with instructions to bet on the wrong fighter." He scowls and says, "I have screenshots of the messages, Kaz." Now he sounds disappointed, and I think that makes things worse.
"Look," I grumble, pulling my phone out of my pocket. I set it on the desk and push it until it slides across the table in front of him. "Go through it. Check my sent messages, check my call log, check whatever you need to check. Those messages aren't in there because I didn't send them."
Roman picks up the phone and scrolls. Every so often, his eyes flick up to me or Stepan, but his jaw is clenched tightly the whole time.
"There's nothing here," he mumbles, sounding confused. His forehead wrinkles and he glances at Timur. "Did you delete them?"
"What the fuck do you think? Why would I fucking do that when you're trusting me to lead?" The idea that he would even question me makes me wonder if I belong in this family at all. This is ridiculous.
Timur reaches across the desk and takes the phone. "Let me look at it… See what I can come up with." He eyes me for a second like he doesn't believe me either, and at this point, I don't care. I'm not about to accept blame and the guilt that goes along with it when I did nothing wrong.
"Do it," Ro says before he turns back to me, and the anger in his face has shifted to concern. He has built his empire by staying in control, and I know how hard it already is for him to leave and go on this trip he's taking and trust us. This was the last thing he needed to happen before that.
"I believe you didn't send those messages," he says. "But that doesn't change the fact that three of our highest-value bettors think you did. Their trust in this operation is shaken. Whether you did it or not, it happened on your watch."
"I understand that." It's a price the leader pays. The buck stops with me for good or for bad, and while I'm not fully in charge yet, this is a stain on my reputation.
"I need these fights running clean, Kaz." Roman sits, burying his face in his hands. He doesn't sound as furious with me but his shoulders are still just as tense.
"They'll run clean."
He holds up a hand before I can continue.
"I'm not blaming you for the messages. I'm telling you the result is the same whether you sent them or not.
People are talking. Confidence is slipping.
And I need it fixed." He looks at Stepan.
"Both of you—this isn't a conversation for Kazimir alone.
I need both of you to step up in a way I haven't asked before.
The family's expanding and the pressure's going to increase, not decrease.
I need men around me who can carry without my standing over their shoulder telling them how. "
"Look, we have your back, Ro. Okay?" My chest puffs out a little as I straighten in my seat, knowing Stepan will back me. The only way to feel confidence is to project it. Fake it till you make it sort of thing.
But Roman ignores what I'm saying and turns to Timur. "Timur, I want a full diagnostic on Kazimir's phone by end of week. If someone's compromised his line, I want to know who and how."
"I'll have it for you," Timur says, still typing.
My uncle stands, turning away from the three of us, and heads for the door, but I'm not done with him yet. He wants to know who Zora is and he wants me to watch my back, so I want him to see she's not a threat.
"Ro," I call, and he turns.
After the conversation we just had, what I’m about to ask seems absurd, but I may not see him again for a few days and I want an answer now so I can move forward with my plan. I rub the back of my neck as I ask, "Care if I bring a plus-one to your wedding?"
"The woman?" Roman's eyebrows lift and he turns fully to face me, leaning against the doorframe.
"Her name is Zora."
"I know her name. Stepan's told me." His eyebrow lifts and he smirks at me, shifting from angry Pakhan to uncle in a split second. "You want to bring her to my wedding?"
"If that's okay with you and Mila." My chest is tight, but seeing him almost smile makes me relax a little.
"Bring her. Mila's been dying to meet the mystery woman who's turned my best soldier into a lovesick puppy. She'll be thrilled."
"I'm not lovesick," I call as he turns to keep walking out the door.
He never responds, but I hear Stepan snickering behind my back and scowl. There will be another round of jibes at my expense and probably more lectures from both of them about vetting her, but I'm finally getting somewhere.
Zora and I really have something going, and I'm not letting this little frustration with work keep me from feeling happy that my life is finally clicking.