Chapter 28
28
Kirill
Several Hours Later
N othing has ever made me crazier. I don't know who sent that video, but I've sat and watched it too many times with anger, hatred, and disgrace running through me at an all-time high.
Someone in The Underworld sent this to Fiona. I'm still as clueless as to who, as I was when she stormed out of here. The security footage reveals nothing. So I bark at Draco for the millionth time, "How did this happen?"
He furrows his eyebrows. "Sir, I don't know."
I slam my hand on the desk. "Stop giving me the same damn answer with nothing attached to it!"
"Sir, we're working on it. I know you're frustrated?—"
"This should never have happened in my own home," I seethe.
He nods. "I agree."
"There's a Zenith Mandate out. There is supposed to be surveillance on every member of The Underworld, so why don't we know who the delivery guy was or the person behind this?" I spout.
He opens his mouth to speak, but his phone buzzes. He glances at it and groans.
"What is it?" I question.
"There's an issue in the tech room. I need to go."
I rub my hands over my face in frustration.
"Sir?" he questions.
I motion toward the door. "Fine. Go."
He exits.
I rise and pace the penthouse. I try to call Fiona again, but her phone's off, and I can't trace it. It's another security hole, and an inexcusable one. Yet I can't do a damn thing about it right now, so I do the only thing I can. I call Sean, hoping he'll finally pick up.
With disdain, he answers on the first ring, "Kirill."
I squeeze my eyes shut.
He knows.
"Where's Fiona?" I demand.
"That's not your business," he says.
I seethe, "Like hell, it isn't. She's my wife."
"Maybe you should have thought about that before you withheld information from her," Sean accuses.
Rage bubbles up within me. The same helplessness I've felt since I walked into the house yesterday and saw my bride in distress. I admit, "I thought it would hurt her."
Sean's snarls, "To know your father was Daniel?"
My stomach flips. The nightmare I tried to keep buried seems more alive than ever. I can only think of replying, "I'm not my father. "
Sean scoffs. "I don't know what to say to you, Kirill, but your father has destroyed my family."
"I'm truly sorry. Your father meant everything to me," I offer, but it sounds weak.
"And are you sorry for what he did to my mother?" he snarls.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting my emotions. I lower my voice, responding, "It was vile and unforgivable. So, yes, I can't begin to express how sorry I am that my father did what he did."
Tension fills the line.
I finally break it, questioning again, "Where's my wife?"
"I'm sorry. Fiona needs her space, so you don't get to know until she's ready for you to know," he declares.
I roar, "Someone is trying to assassinate her! I can't protect her if I don't know where she is. Or did you forget that?"
He fires back, "I'm protecting her. You don't have to worry about it."
"Bullshit. You don't have the power I do," I remind him.
He scoffs. "I'll take care of my family."
"Fiona is my family," I insist.
"No, your family pretends to be one of the good guys but is really the devil. Tell me, Kirill. How the hell did your father pass himself off as an Italian if he was a Petrov?" Sean barks.
I close my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart. I admit, "His father was a Petrov. His mother was an Abruzzo. He grew up in both Italy and Russia, and learned the languages so well he could fool anyone."
The line goes silent.
"Please. Tell me where my wife is so I can make sure she's protected," I beg .
"She doesn't want to see or talk to you, Kirill. Leave her alone."
"This isn't your call, Sean. Where is she? I saw Zara, and I know she's not at your place, so where did you take her?"
"I'm hanging up now. I'll talk to you later," he says. The line goes dead.
"Goddamn it," I say, throwing my phone against the wall.
"Whoa. Calm down," Valentina orders, stepping inside the room with Brax on her heels.
"Don't tell me to calm down. My wife is missing."
"No, she's not missing," Brax interjects.
I scowl at him. "You better have something good to say after that comment."
He crosses his arms and clenches his jaw.
Valentina says, "We need you to take a breather."
Brax nods, adding, "If you want any information from us, she's right. You need to calm the fuck down."
I rush over and grab his shirt. "Don't you tell me to calm the fuck down when my wife is missing!"
"Kirill!" Valentina exclaims, trying to pull me off of him.
Brax shoves me, and I step back. "Get off me, man."
I point a finger in his face, snarling, "You better watch who you're talking to."
"I thought you wanted to know where your wife was?" he taunts.
My chest tightens and my heart pounds.
Valentina puts her hand on my bicep. "Kirill, let's go sit down. Please."
"Just tell me where my wife is," I say in desperation .
Compassion fills her expression. "She doesn't want to see you right now. I think it's best if you stay away."
"I'm not staying away from my wife," I insist.
"If you calm down, I'll tell you where she's at," Brax offers.
Valentina's head snaps toward him. "She doesn't want to see him."
"Where is she?" I demand.
"She's at Dante's place. Don't worry. Sean's there. She's fine. She needs time. I've known her forever. Give her some space," he suggests.
"Chicago or New York?" I question.
"New York. Sean took her. Don't worry, she's safe," Brax reiterates.
"She's not safe," I bark. "Someone wants her dead. Or did you two forget about that?"
Valentina pins me with a withering look. She puts her hand on her hip and points to the couch. "Kirill, sit your ass down."
I scowl.
She hisses, "I said to sit."
My insides shake harder.
"Kirill," she says in a softer tone.
I meet her eyes. "I need my wife. Home. Safe. With me."
She sighs and nods. "I know. Please sit."
Feeling defeated, I finally cave and plop down on the chair.
They sit on the sofa. Valentina looks at Brax uncomfortably, and he gives her the same expression.
Panic hits me. "What aren't you two telling me?"
Brax shakes his head. "We're coming up empty, man. "
"What do you mean you're coming up empty? There's a Zenith Mandate. There is surveillance on everyone. It's not possible to have nothing!"
He groans. "Kirill, you're going to have a heart attack if you don't calm the fuck down."
"Watch your mouth," I warn.
Valentina orders, "Just sit there and be quiet, Brax." She shakes her head at him.
"Don't start with me," he growls.
"Cut the shit! You two were assigned to gather intel on whoever is threatening my wife's life," I remind them.
Brax opens his mouth, and Valentina puts her hand over it.
She offers, "Whoever's behind this, they know how to cover their tracks. But we will find out who's behind the plot. I promise."
I point at them. "You two are the only ones I can fully trust besides Sean and Zara. So I need you to do your job. Do you understand me?"
"We're—"
Valentina slaps her hand over Brax's mouth again. "We're working on it. Trust me, we will find out who's behind this."
"Find out," I demand and then rise. I grab my phone off the floor and slide it into my pocket.
"Where are you going?" Valentina asks, quick on my heels.
"To my wife."
"You can't go there," Brax states.
"Bullshit. I can go any fucking where I want, and don't forget it," I warn, pushing the button on the elevator.
"Kirill, you need to give her time on her own," he says again .
"Come on! Goddamn it!" I say, slamming my fist into the button, pissed that the elevator still isn't fixed.
Valentina adds, "Kirill, she's in bad shape. Just let her be with her family right now."
"I am her family!" I roar.
She jumps backward, her eyes wide.
"Fuck this." I go over to the staircase and jog down all the flights. I reach the bottom, push open the side door, and run to the front, where my SUV is parked.
Ivan asks, "Where to, sir?"
"Airport." I text my flight crew.
Me: Get the plane ready for New York, pronto.
Arina: Got it.
I stare out the window. The buildings go by in a blur as I wonder how I got to this point.
My wife can't hate me after loving me so unconditionally, can she?
Why didn't I tell her what I knew?
Would she hate me any less if I had?
My phone rings. I glance at the screen and answer, "Draco, what is it?"
His voice is laced with frustration. "All the video footage is out. We can't get it back up."
"Why not?" I question.
"The entire building just lost the internet," he informs me.
"So get it back up. "
"It's not a typical outage."
My gut dives. "Meaning?"
He clears his throat. "Sir, we've been hacked."
My pulse skyrockets. "There's a Zenith Mandate out. This shouldn't be possible!"
He says nothing.
I curl my fist at my side. "Fix it and let me know when it's done," I order, then hang up and toss my phone on the seat next to me. I snarl, "Move faster, Ivan."
"Yes, sir." He accelerates, weaving in and out of traffic for several minutes.
"Faster," I demand.
He guns it, and within seconds, sirens blare from behind us.
"Fuck," Ivan mumbles.
"Don't stop. Go faster," I instruct.
"Sir?" he questions, looking at me through the rearview mirror.
I bark, "I said, don't stop. I need to get to the airport."
He sighs. "Yes, sir." He pushes his foot down, and the speedometer hits over 100mph.
I glance behind us.
Several cops are on our tail. When we get to the airport, Ivan parks beside the plane, and the police surround the car.
One says through the speaker, "Step out of the vehicle with your hands in the air."
The other cops get out of their cars, keeping their bodies shielded by their doors, and point their guns at our vehicle .
"Fuck," Ivan mutters.
I step out and put my hands in the air, yelling, "Stingray 88!"
No one puts their guns down.
I shout again, "Stingray 88!"
"Hold fire," an officer yells. He cautiously walks toward me and then lowers his gun. In a low tone, he says, "Your Majesty, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was you."
"Now you do. I have somewhere to be, so excuse me for forgetting the niceties," I snarl.
"Yes. Sorry, sir," he repeats, then screams, "False alarm. Time to go."
A few of the officers hesitate.
He shouts, "I said now!"
They get into their vehicles and race off the runway.
The officer adds, "Again, my sincerest apologies, Your Majesty."
"Don't let it happen again," I grumble as I push past him to the staircase.
Arina greets me and curtsies. "Your Majesty."
"Get this plane off the ground, now," I bark and brush past her. I plop down in the seat.
In less than five minutes, we're off the ground and in the air. I try to call Fiona again.
Her sweet voice on her voicemail greeting sends a pain to my chest. "Hi, this is Fiona. Leave a message."
A long beep sounds in my ear.
Sadness overpowers me. I try to soften my tone, stating, "It's me again. Please call me. I'm sorry. I don't know what to say, but I'm sorry. I love you, and we need to talk. Please. I promise you, I'm not my father." I squeeze my eyes shut, taking a few deep breaths.
Then I add, "I love you more than anything. Please call me." I hang up, hating how desperate I sound, how out of control I feel, and the chaos surrounding me I can't seem to get a hold of.
How the hell can I have a Zenith Mandate out, yet there's no intelligence?
My gut tells me this is bigger than just one person or maybe even two. Maybe the majority of The Underworld's in on it, and they're all out to get me. Who knows? But then again, I'm the king, and everybody always wants my spot.
A new realization hits me.
I named Sean and Zara successors.
I pick up the phone again.
Sean barks, "Kirill, I don't have time to argue with you all day."
"Shut up and listen, and that's an order, not a request," I demand.
He goes quiet.
I continue, "The Zenith Mandate isn't working. Ask Brax if you don't believe me, but there's no intel. That means this is larger than we thought, and if that's the case, they're after you and Zara too."
"You're paranoid, Kirill. There have been no threats against Zara or me," he says.
I point out, "I named you successors. Somebody wants to be king and queen."
Tension fills the air.
"Are you there?" I ask.
He lowers his voice. "Yeah, I'm here. "
"Are you still in New York or back with Zara?"
"New York," he replies with a hint of fear.
My stomach spins. I advise, "You better get home to your wife and kids. Send Brax over to stay with them until you're back."
Again, he says nothing.
"Sean, did you hear me?" I ask, worried he's not taking this seriously or I lost the call in the air.
He clears his throat. "Yeah. Thanks for calling."
"Go take care of your family," I say, hanging up. I sit back in my chair.
Arina cautiously approaches. "Sir?"
I glance up at her.
Concern floods her expression. "Can I get you anything?"
I soften my tone. "No, I'm fine. I'm sorry if I was a jackass when I got on the plane."
A tiny smile curves her lips. "You weren't."
"I'm afraid I was," I admit.
She hesitates.
"What is it, Arina?"
She stares at me for a moment. "Are you sure I can't get you anything?"
"Yes, but thank you. I just need to be alone."
She nods and makes herself scarce.
The flight seems to take forever. When I finally land in New York, my anxiety's at an all-time high. The claw in my gut scraped so deep during the flight that it's now raw. Worse, there are no answers to any of my problems .
I get into my SUV and direct my driver to the Marino estate. When we arrive at the gate, Dante's men glare at me.
I announce, "Kirill Petrov. I'm here to see Fiona."
"Petrov? We don't allow Petrov's on this estate." He spits on the ground, scowling.
I squeeze my fist and demand, "Call Dante."
He doesn't move. "You're not on the list. Turn around."
"I don't need to be on the list. My wife is in there, so call Dante or Bridget!" I roar.
He stays planted, his expression darkening.
"Call them now or all hell is going to break loose on this estate," I threaten.
He narrows his eyes in disgust but picks up the phone. "Sir, Kirill Petrov is here. Says he's here to see Fiona."
Silence ensues for what feels like endless moments.
"Yes, sir," he says, then hangs up the phone and presses a button. He orders, "Drive straight. Take the first curve to the right."
My driver obeys and stops next to the ornate front porch.
I jump out of the SUV, and the front door opens.
Bridget steps outside and shuts the door. She comes down the steps, glaring at me.
Shame and guilt fill me. I take a deep breath. "Bridget?—"
"She doesn't want to talk to you right now," she states.
"Please. I love her. She's my wife. I need to talk to her. I promise you, I'm not my father," I repeat for what feels like the millionth time. I blink hard, feeling like I'm going to cry, which is another thing I detest .
Men don't cry in my world.
Bridget sighs, and a flash of compassion flits over her expression. "I'm sorry, Kirill. She doesn't want to see you. I have to respect my daughter's wishes. You should go home."
Panic resurfaces. "I'm not leaving New York until Fiona's with me."
She studies me.
"Please. I love her. And if I had known what they were going to do to—" I turn my head and cover my eyes, trying to control my overwhelming guilt and shame, but I can't.
Bridget steps closer and puts her hand on my bicep. "Kirill."
I take a shaky breath and pull it together enough to face her.
She says in a non-accusing voice, "I don't understand how my daughter got to the point where she married a Petrov."
"I promise you, I'm not like them," I assert.
Bridget tilts her head, studying me. Then she asks, "How did you know my husband?"
My heart pounds harder. All the reasons I can't tell Bridget anything flash before me, but then Fiona's face overrules all of it. I glance behind us, ensuring no one is listening, and then back at her. I break my Underworld vows and admit, "He wanted the crime families to get along. He didn't want his children to suffer the way his generation did. He envisioned a world that many couldn't believe was possible. But there were people who did believe it was possible, and they dove headfirst into his utopia. I was one of them, and he didn't care that I was a Petrov. He saw my potential and took me under his wing."
Bridget's lips slightly curve. She nods. "Sounds like Sean."
I blurt out, "If I could tell you everything, I would. But if I did, it's not my life I worry about—it's your daughter's. And I've already disclosed more than I'm allowed. "
She takes a deep breath and slowly releases it.
Her silence seems to last forever. I don't speak, not trusting my current state and what I might reveal.
Bridget breaks it, asking, "Did Sean have the ring Fiona wears made for me?"
My heart races faster. I confess, "Yes. He was going to give it to you when you renewed your vows. When he died, I secured it in a vault in Monaco."
Bridget's lips twitch. "Monaco?"
"Yes."
Her voice lifts. "Sean wanted to retire in Monaco."
"He did?"
"Yes." She smiles bigger, then takes more deep breaths, bobbing her head, as if remembering something.
"Do you want the ring? If I had known you knew about it, I would have ensured you received it years ago. But I thought you didn't know, so it seemed like Fiona should have it."
A moment passes, and Bridget shakes her head. "No. It's a beautiful ring, and there was a time in my life I was meant to have it. That time has passed."
"Are you sure," I ask.
She nods. "Yes. And I'm glad Fiona has it."
"You are?"
"Yes. It's not meant to sit in a vault, hidden from the world."
Emotions try to drag me under. I tear up and blurt out, "He was the best man I ever met. "
Her smile weakens. She meets my eyes, replying, "And now you're married to his only daughter," but it doesn't sound harsh like in the past.
I don't hesitate, once more insisting, "I love her. And I'm not like any of the Petrovs you know."
She studies me further, then offers, "I know you aren't like them."
I freeze, cautiously asking, "You do?"
She shifts on her feet. "Yes. Sean told me about the boy whose family sliced him to pieces and left him for dead, all because of what he wouldn't do."
My breath gets stolen from my lungs.
She continues, "If my daughter was going to marry a Petrov, I'm thankful it was you."
I stay quiet, not trusting my voice.
"Is it fair to say there's something bigger out there that Sean created, and now his children are involved?" she asks.
"Yes."
She adds, "It's in their best interest if I stop asking questions?"
"Yes."
She glances at the woods, then rolls her eyes toward the sky and sighs.
I ask, "Can I please see Fiona?"
She pins her sympathetic gaze on me and shakes her head. "No. I'm sorry, but my daughter is very upset right now. I'm sure you understand why."
I clench my fist at my side. "Yes, and I'm sorry, Bridget. I'm so sorry for what my family did to you and Sean. He was one of the only people that ever actually..." I look away again, blinking hard and pushing my fingers into my eyes.
"It's not your fault, Kirill," she claims.
I freeze again, holding my breath.
"Look at me," she orders.
I squeeze the bridge of my nose, collecting tears, then slowly meet her eyes.
She adamantly repeats, "It's not your fault."
My jaw tics. I swallow the lump in my throat. I declare, "If I could kill my father for what he did to you and Sean, I would. I would do it with my bare hands and torture him longer than I've ever tortured anyone."
Her lips twitch. "If I could watch you do it, I would. But we can't live through what-ifs, can we?"
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
She lifts her chin and states, "Fiona needs some time."
"How much?"
A tiny laugh bursts out of her.
Confused, I look at her in question.
"Sorry. You just sounded like Sean. He was just as impatient when he was in the doghouse with me."
"I just want to talk to her," I claim.
Bridget nods. "Yes, I understand. Give her some time. She'll tell you when she's ready."
I reveal my fear. "What if she never wants to speak to me again?"
Compassion fills Bridget's face. She insists, "She will. Just back off for now. "
Not knowing what else to do, I sigh and agree. "Okay. But tell Dante I need to speak with him regarding security. And I'm not leaving New York."
Bridget smiles and pats my shoulder. "I'll let both of them know."