Chapter One
DANYL
The owners of the Meridian try too hard.
The inside of the restaurant has glass walls, glass bar, glass staircase, with steel beams everywhere.
It’s like the architect thought they wouldn’t get paid unless everything shimmered.
On top of that, I guess because of the holidays, it looks like an elf threw up in here.
The bar, the booths, the shimmery walls are covered in shiny baubles and glittery tinsel.
I’m in a corner booth with my back against the wall. The seat allows me to keep the room in full view and I watch the other diners, mostly men, who wear expensive watches and expertly tailored suits designed to hide their mid-life paunches.
Most of them pretend they don’t recognize me. A few do. They look away fast.
Smart.
Across from me sits a kid named Tyler Morgan.
He’s a tech-bro, baby-faced, twenty-something kid who tries to appear confident.
Every few minutes he pushes his glasses up his nose and checks his phone, as if he’ll look important because people text him.
He’s wearing a Stanford hoodie under his tailored blazer. I smirk.
Tyler is a boy who thinks he’s a genius because three people told him so. He’s riding high on an app that “revolutionizes” secure data transfers. He uses that word every two minutes. Revolutionize.
Tyler would drown if he ever had to survive outside Wi-Fi range. And he’s talking so much. Endlessly rambling buzz words.
“…and if we push Series B by the end of quarter two, we’re looking at a three-point multiplier. Five if we get the right headlines. Your investment would allow us to move into the next phase of production much faster—”
I refrain from rolling my eyes, but barely. I know, Tyler. That’s why I’m here.
A new start-up company with fast growth, inexperienced leadership, and messy books is a perfect opportunity for cleaning dirty money. The Kedrov family are expanding into tech and Rik, my Pakhan and cousin, wants me to oversee these new investments that turn our cash funds into dividends.
I’m looking forward to the work. It’s smart. Bloodless.
And I’m ready to take on a larger project for the Family. Where I can show Rik my strengths aren’t just the kind that requires muscles. I should focus on what Tyler’s saying, but tonight, it’s hard to concentrate on business.
Because she glides past my table with a tray balanced on one hand.
Never has a woman distracted me from making money. But she does.
The waitress. Curvy as sin with shoulder-length strawberry-blonde hair that catches every light in this glass cage of a restaurant.
Green eyes that are far too soft for this city.
She glides her thick body between tables with the grace of a dancer.
She’s young, probably twenty years my junior and I shouldn’t even be looking at her.
Her basic server’s uniform of black shirt, black trousers, with an apron tied at the waist is lose and reveals nothing. And yet, my imagination I fill in the full tits and luscious thighs I can’t see, but want to get my hands on.
Her deliciously wide hips sway when she walks. Nothing exaggerated, just the natural swing of a young woman. A motion that is unaware and innocent.
And yet ridiculously dangerous to a man who’s gone without softness for too damn long.
What would she do if I gripped those hips and pulled her against my hard cock?
What sound would she make if I pressed my mouth to her cleavage, to her pussy?
How wet would she get if I whispered what I want, what I could do to her?
A dangerous heat coils low in my gut and my dick presses against the zipper of my slacks. I shift in my seat.
Tyler rattles on, obliviously. “And the other angel investors are waiting for me to—”
Trying to refocus, I drag my eyes from the delectable server and look at the boy across from me. “Mm.” I sip my whiskey. It tastes too sweet. Everything in this place is too sweet for me. Including her.
But as much as I try, I can’t not look at her.
She approaches with a tray for the table next to ours. A group of business men are having what seem to be a mostly liquid dinner. They’ve been bragging loudly about their investments and golf scores for a while.
My jaw tightens as one of them, a middle-aged asshole grabs the server’s wrist as she sets down a drink.
She startles and gives him a polite, nervous smile as she tries to pull away.
He doesn’t let go. Instead he leans closer to her, a leering smile on his lips. The motion reveals that he’s not wearing anything under his shirt as the buttons try to keep the two fabric halves together but lose the fight against the pressure of his belly,
A flip switches inside me. The darkness I honed as I grew up on the streets of Moscow, the part of me that knows how to break bones without leaving marks, rushes to the surface. My hands curl into fists, but I force myself to sit still and observe a little longer.
Tyler keeps talking. “…and if we expand—”
“Shut up,” I say quietly. I can’t focus with his squeaky voice rambling on.
He blinks, confused. “Sorry?”
I’m staring past him, eyes locked on the bastard pawing the server.
He’s now leaning back in his chair, to the relief of his shirt buttons, smirking, his thumb stroking the inside of the server’s wrist. The business buddies at his table smirk at each other as she continues to struggle against the bastard’s grip.
I have permanently maimed men for less, but Rik doesn’t want violence out in the open in this town. The Kedrov family are moving into white-collar business and apparently brawls in pretentious restaurants don’t fit that image.
The server finally wriggles free and steps back, shaking. “Please don’t—”
He grabs her hip instead. A hip I want to get my hands on. My hip.
Her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
Not the flirtatious kind women sometimes affect around men like him to avoid confrontation.
This is humiliation and discomfort. Maybe even a fear of losing her job if she says anything. I look around to see if a manager will come and deal with this, but none of the other staff, or customers react to what’s going on. I rise from my chair.
“Mr. Kedrov?” Tyler looks up at me, startled.
I ignore him. Every part of me is focused on the girl whose eyes flick around, looking for help. For someone safe to get her out of this.
Someone safe isn’t coming.
But I am.
I move silently across the Meridian’s gleaming dark-stone floor. I’m a predator in a suit tailored to hide the weapons I carry. I don’t need them, the deadliest one is me, anyway.
I reach their table just as the man trails his hand down her back.
She flinches.
The darkness inside me melts into red hot anger.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, voice low.
The man turns, annoyed. “Mind your business,” he slurs, drunk but confident. His kind always is, until they feel actual physical pain. Then they cower and whimper. “She likes it,” the asshole says.
My gaze shifts to the server.
Her heartbeat is visible at her throat. She shakes her head. A tiny terrified motion.
That’s all I need.
I lean closer to the man, my shadow spilling over him. “Apologize to her.”
“Or what?” he scoffs.
I smile, it’s not a pleasant expression. “You don’t want the answer.”
He rolls his eyes and reaches for her again, like I’m nothing.
My hand moves fast, clamping around his wrist before he touches her. I squeeze, not so hard that I would break it, but enough to promise I could.
He yelps.
His friends go quiet and lean back in their chairs as if to distance themselves from what’s playing out at their table.
“Stand up,” I say.
“What the fuck?” he blusters.
I yank. He scrambles up, nearly knocking his chair over.
Stepping between him and the server, I shield her from his view. Behind my back, her breath catches. She’s so close I can smell warm vanilla and the faint scent of citrus from the restaurant’s soap on her skin.
I don’t let myself look at her yet. If I do, this man will leave in an ambulance.
“You will apologize,” I murmur.
“I…I’m sorry!” the asshole spits out, shaking. His face turns red as he tries to get out of my grip.
I hold back a grin. Now he knows what it feels like when a higher predator has control over him. And not surprisingly, he doesn’t like it.
I release my grin and let it turn feral.
The asshole trembles.
The waitress swallows. “It’s fine. I need to get back to—”
“It’s not fine,” I interrupt, looking directly at her.
And blyat.
Up close, she’s even more beautiful, with full lips made for sin and those green eyes glittering with unshed tears. The tears make me even more angry and my chest tightens with something fierce and possessive.
She’s too young, and too pure for a man like me. But I’ve never wanted anything more.
Blinking away the tears, she lifts her chin, and her gaze changes from defeated to defiant.
“I’ll take care of it,” I tell her quietly.
Her lips part, like she wants to argue. But then she nods and steps back, hugging her tray to her chest as though it’s shield.
I watch her for a moment, until she’s at a safe distance away from this creep. I lower my voice so only he can hear. “If you touch her again, or any other unwilling woman, the Kedrov family will teach you a lesson that has a long recovery.”
His eyes widen with belated recognition. He knows the Kedrov name. Knows what we are. What I am.
I release him with a shove. He stumbles, pale and shaking, and his friends suddenly decide it’s a great time to pay the check and leave. They throw cash on the table, grab the asshole, and scramble out of the restaurant as a group.
I turn to make sure the girl is okay.
She’s at the bar, hands trembling slightly as she wipes down a counter that’s already clean. Her chest rises fast, but she keeps wiping that counter. Tougher than she looks.
My jaw clamps tight. No woman should look that frightened.
I return to mine and Tyler’s table, but I don’t sit.
He looks at me like I’ve sprouted fangs. “What was that?”
“Business,” I say.
He swallows. “You, uh…you know that guy?”
“No.”
“But he—”
“Tyler.” I place a hand on the table and lean forward. He flinches. Good. “Your app. Send me the latest projections. I’ll talk them over with Rik.”
“Rik. He’s the, um—”
“The one writing your check.”
He nods so fast his glasses slide down his nose. “Y-yes. Of course. I’ll send them tonight.”
As I straighten, Tyler’s eyes dart toward the exit, like he wants to run. I don't care. He’ll be loyal after what he just saw.
I start toward the exit, but can’t help myself to look for her again.
She’s walking toward the back hall that leads to the kitchen swing doors. Her posture is too stiff, too tight.
I shouldn’t follow.
She’s a young woman who deserves a normal life with a normal man.
A man who isn’t a monster dressed up in a fancy suit.
But I go anyway.
Because something in me has already decided.
I won’t let anyone touch her again unless she wants it.
Won’t let anyone touch her that isn’t me.
I curse and shake my head, this is a distraction I shouldn’t indulge. But there’s really no choice anymore. She’s mine now, she just doesn’t know it, yet.
I catch her in the small staff bathroom with the door not fully closed. She’s bracing herself against the edge of the sink. Her eyes closed, as if gathering strength.
Open the door wider, I stay where I am to not trap her.
“You okay?” I ask.
She startles violently, spinning around. Her hand goes to her chest. “Oh! I didn’t—I didn’t hear you.”
“Most people don’t.”
Her cheeks flush as her gorgeous green eyes focus on me.
Hot possessiveness rise in my chest and I shove my hands into my pants pockets to keep from reaching for her.
Her voice is soft but steady. “I’m fine. Really. You didn’t have to step in.”
“I did.”
She bites her lip. “You could’ve gotten in trouble.”
I smile slightly. “I don’t get in trouble.”
“I…I didn’t mean it like that. I just…” She trails off, frustrated with herself. “I’m used to dealing with guys like him. But tonight he got to me for some reason.”
“No one should have to get used to that.”
She swallows, gaze dropping to the Cyrillic tattoos revealed by my unbuttoned collar.
I wonder what she thinks I am. A fighter? A killer? A Monster?
All three things are true.
“I wanted to thank you,” she murmurs. “Most people just…look away.”
I step closer, slowly, giving her space to retreat. She doesn’t.
“I don’t look away,” I say, voice low, almost a growl. “I see you.
Her breath hitches. And then she asks a question I didn’t expect. “What…what’s your name?”
“Danyl.” My voice comes out even rougher than I intend.
“Danyl,” she repeats softly, like tasting it. “I’m Liza.”
I roll it over in my mind. Liza. Sweet. Soft.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. A nervous habit, both adorable and dangerous.
I want to take her face in my hands. Tilt her chin up.
Kiss her until she forgets the fear that bastard caused.
But I stay still. Barely. “If you’re okay, you should get back to your shift,” I say finally.
This isn’t the end of our conversation, but it’s also not the place for it.
We need to continue in private. And I don’t want her to lose her job because of me.
She nods, something like disappointment flashes briefly in her eyes, but it’s gone before I can make certain that’s what it was.
Before she turns away, I speak again. “If he ever touches you again,” I tell her quietly, “you come find me.”
Her eyes widen. “But how will you know”
“I’ll know.” I’ll make fucking sure one of my people watches her from now on.
She hesitates, but something in my voice convinces her and she nods slowly. “Okay.” Then she slips back through the kitchen doors and vanishes into the restaurant.
I stand in that hallway a long time after she’s gone, pulse still pounding, hands still itching for violence. When I finally leave, I know two things with absolute certainty.
I’m going to see her again.
And if anyone tries to touch her again?
I won’t just threaten them.
I’ll go for the kill.