Chapter Fifteen
LYLA VOZNESENSKY
“Idon’t understand. Where is Lukyan?!” Dimitri thundered.
I moved about the room, completely invisible to the Volkovs as I went about my duties, clearing dinner.
I had infiltrated Sergei’s grand estate by applying to be one of his maids a few weeks before.
It was a crucial step not only in my plan, but Lev’s, too.
I needed to know what was going on, and the only way to do that was to get myself into his house.
Luckily for me, Sergei needed an abundance of maids, and they never seemed to last long. The old fart had a short fuse, and it’d been well circulated that the reason he needed so many was because he lost his temper and ended up killing half of them.
I snuck in under a fake name—a fake identity curated by my brother. I told him the best way to complete our mission was to get into Sergei’s house, and he made it happen.
At the table sat Sergei, Dimitri, Anya’s father, Akim, and some random dude called Vernon.
None of them paid me any attention as I picked up the somewhat empty plates in front of them.
One thing I’d learned quickly was that waitstaff were quickly dismissed.
We were invisible to others. Barely seen and never heard. It worked perfectly for me.
I tried to banish Lukyan from my mind so I could focus on the task at hand, but it was hard.
After our conversation a few hours before, after knocking him out with that stupid tranq pen, I decided the best thing to do was a little recon.
Ensure that everything had gone according to plan.
That there was no blame being put on Lukyan or his family for what happened.
I hoped that, by bringing him that good news, it might help him see that although our families were enemies, it didn’t mean we had to be.
Sergei glared at his son. Despite his age, he still looked good. Big and imposing. Fucking evil, if I were to pick a description. “Footage from the venue shows him being carried out by his wife.”
Me. I held in my giggle. I was Luykan’s wife. Dreams really did come true.
“And based on the note found in your home, Akim, it is safe to guess that it was not Anya,” Sergei finished, crossing his arms over his wide, massive chest.
Akim’s face flushed with anger. “I don’t know what happened. If that wasn’t Anya walking down the aisle, who the fuck was it?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Dimitri sneered. “She didn’t want to go through with the wedding, so she had someone else take her place so she could escape.
” I wasn’t sure if he truly believed that, or if he’d merely come up with it to steer the blame away from his family to the Tarasovs.
Either way, it worked. Sergei’s glare switched from Dimitri to Akim, and even I wanted to shrivel under it. The man had a mean glare.
“No.” Akim shook his head, almost as if he refused to believe it. “No, she wouldn’t do that. Anya understands her obligations. She wouldn’t run.”
Sergei held up the note. “Care to explain this, then? It is her handwriting, isn’t it?”
Like he would know. Akim didn’t even know enough about his daughter to realize she wasn’t the one to walk down the aisle. Any good parent would have noticed instantly.
Clara, another maid, came into the room. She held a pitcher of vodka. Her hands shook. She was terrified, and I could use that to my advantage. I offered her the plates in my hand in exchange for the pitcher, and her smile was filled with gratitude.
I didn’t want to leave the room just yet. I needed to listen to the conversation to see where everyone stood. To make sure my plan had succeeded. Clara took the plates from me, I took the pitcher, and she left, taking the dishes to the kitchen.
The air was ripe with tension. Shit was getting heated very quickly.
“He doesn’t know shit,” Dimitri spat. “He didn’t even recognize that the woman walking down the aisle wasn’t his own fucking daughter. How the hell would he know if that’s her handwriting?”
“Regardless, I know it is. I’ve had it compared to the journals my men found in her bedroom.
” Sergei tossed the note onto the table.
“There were pages and pages detailing her love for her bodyguard. She’s been in love with him for years.
Anya didn’t want to get married. That proves this note is real, Mr. Tarasov.
That you fell short in our arrangement.”
Akim visibly started to shake. “Mr. Volkov, please—”
Sergei held up a hand. Akim snapped his mouth shut.
Boss move.
I moved to the head of the table, where Sergei sat, and poured his drink first.
“We had a contract,” he continued. “In exchange for marrying into the family, I get unfiltered access to the east and north trade routes.” He picked up a stack of papers at his side.
“I held up my end of the bargain. My grandson was there, standing at the altar. Your daughter failed to show. Your daughter ran. Your daughter orchestrated someone else to take her place. You signed the agreement stating she would be there. She wasn’t.
You failed to uphold your side, and therefore, restitution must be made. ”
I moved to Dimitri next. His hands were clenched into tight fists underneath the table.
It didn’t take a genius to guess he didn’t give a shit about that conversation.
He only wanted to know where Lukyan was.
That was why I liked Papa D. He was what a parent should have been like.
He cared about his kids. Whether they were happy or sad. He loved them.
The pitcher clinked against Dimitri’s glass as I poured his drink.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, failure to fulfill the contract incurs a 100-million-dollar fine that you are now liable for.
” Goddamn. “So, I’ll present you with a choice.
You can pay the fine, bankrupt yourself and your family, or, you can do what I say, when I fucking say it, and I’ll let you and your wife continue to live the life you are so accustomed to. ”
“Deal.” Akim didn’t even fucking hesitate. Not that he had any grounds to stand on. Just like I’d planned, he was the one in breach of the deal because his daughter didn’t show.
“Good. The first shipment will arrive at the docks tomorrow. Make sure it gets through without any problems. Leave.”
Akim stood, bowed his head, and rushed out without looking back.
Sergei breathed out a satisfied sigh, leaning back in his chair. “That worked out pretty well.” He chuckled, taking a drink from his glass.
The thunderstorm of anger Dimitri had been holding back unleashed in a fury. “Well?!” he roared, jumping to his feet. “My son is missing!”
Sergei merely shrugged. “So? You have two others. Your legacy is secure.”
“My legacy?” he whispered harshly under his breath. “I don’t give a fuck about my goddamn legacy.”
“You should. It will be all that is left of you once you leave this world. And that might be sooner than you think,” Sergei snapped.
Silence filled the room as the two hierarchies of the Volkov family stared at each other. The innuendo was clear: Sergei planned to kill his son. The only questions were the when and the how.
I poured the last drink—Vernon’s—and then went to the corner of the room, standing with my back against the wall, and waited to be called on like the other maid standing there, Lisa.
“Careful, Father,” Dimitri all but sang. “That almost sounded like a threat. What would everyone think if they heard Sergei Volkov wanted to kill his own son? That he could no longer control his own family? Why, it would be almost scandalous, don’t you think?”
Sergei’s jaw clenched. His eyes flicked to Vernon, who was following the conversation with interest blazing in his eyes.
The conversation I’d overheard back at the Volkov estate streaked through my mind.
Sergei only cared about what others thought of him.
That he was viewed as the scariest Mafia boss in the world.
Reputation was everything in their business, after all.
And it was evident that it was all Sergei gave a shit about.
His face relaxed, but even I could see it was fake as shit. “I’ll give you men to help find Lukyan.”
They’d never find him. I’d covered my tracks too fucking well.
Elaine, the head maid, came into the room and made a beeline right for me. Oh, fuck off, you old fart. “Retire to the kitchen and finish cleaning up. I’ll stay here.”
I wanted to argue, but I didn’t have a leg to stand on, and I certainly didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to myself. Nodding once, I handed her the pitcher and left, making my way toward the kitchen.
I was ticked that I wouldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. Then again, I’d heard enough. My plan worked, and Lukyan’s loved ones would come away relatively unscathed from the whole debacle.
It was almost perfect.
God, I’m good.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I took it out and glanced at the screen.
Lev: Well? Can it be done? Can you get to him?
Me: Yep. Won’t be easy though. I’ll need an escape route.
Lev: Leave it to me. Good work, sis. I’ll be there soon.
My body collided with another, making me drop my phone.
“Oof. Fuck, I’m sorry.”
I looked up and stiffened. Shit.
Autumn DeValos stood in front of me. The Crimson Death. Badass personified.
The first time I met her, I’d fangirled.
Hard. I’d barely been able to contain my excitement.
I’d been leaving the Volkov estate after sneaking in to see my Lukyan.
She was looking to get in, and I was all about girl power, so I helped her out, telling her exactly what she needed to do.
I, of course, knew who she was. Even before The ’Til Death Games, I knew. Everybody did.
She had a reputation. A scary-as-fuck reputation with a kill list a mile long. She was goddamn legendary, and the last thing I had expected was to run into her as I was trying to leave.
I’d maintained my cool. Didn’t ask for her autograph or to take a picture, even though I was dying to. Just helped her sneak in and went on my way.