Chapter 16 – Ivan #2
The move was calculated—positioning myself between her and Grey while establishing a direct line to Vince. Grey couldn’t dismiss me without undermining his own position.
At the same time, I was close enough to brush her arm with mine for a millisecond. A silent message: I’m here.
“Vince, maybe we should move this discussion to a conference room,” I suggested, my voice carrying just enough authority to draw his attention without challenging him directly.
“The runway is hardly the best place for business negotiations, and I believe everyone could use refreshments after their journey.”
Grey’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. I’d disrupted his script, and he wasn’t pleased. But I was furthering his agenda, so he had no real reason to interfere.
“We’ve prepared a comprehensive briefing,” I continued smoothly, “and I believe our analysis will provide valuable context for our proposal.” I continued to stare at Vince. We locked eyes, and I hoped he’d understand, hoped he somehow knew I wasn’t the enemy here.
Vince narrowed his eyes, held my gaze, then nodded once. “You promised my wife paradise,” he said, his words a pure challenge. He was still mad. Not ready to give in. Then he glanced at Grey and back at me and raised an eyebrow.
Or maybe he understood more than he let on. “That I did,” I said with a smile.
“That is a plan, Zotov,” Grey said, his smile not reaching his eyes. “Lead the way.”
I nodded to Anton and Mila, our silent language perfected over the years. They understood immediately, moving to flank the Salvini sisters as I gestured toward the convoy.
“It’s just a short ride,” I said while I invited them to the Jeeps.
I kept my face impassive as we approached the waiting vehicles. Four black Jeeps idled in a neat row, and my siblings, as drivers, stood at attention.
Just then, the fifth vehicle—with Roman and Nina—approached from the direction of the tower.
Perfect—the setup gave me room to maneuver.
I hung back until I was right next to Grey, then pushed the button on my comms and prayed Roman and Nina would catch what I tried to do. “Your presence is urgently needed at the compound,” I whispered to Grey.
Grey’s eyebrow twitched slightly—the only visible sign of his displeasure.
“Why don’t you take the lead vehicle, go back with Roman, and clear things up, and I’ll handle our guests?” I asked.
Salvini looked over to me and narrowed his eyes before he turned his head back and stared straight ahead.
“What can be more important than accompanying our guests?” Mr. Grey said, not ready to give in.
“That is privileged information,” I announced, loud enough for Salvini to hear, and hopefully for Roman to catch it and arrange something. “We will be right behind you, escorting Mr. Salvini and his family.”
Mr. Grey gave me a side glance. But challenging my words would reveal too much, so he simply nodded.
Roman pulled up in the Jeep, his face a perfect mask of professional concern. Nina sat beside him, her posture rigid, eyes fixed straight ahead. Something was off about her behavior—too controlled, too careful. Did something happen?
“Sir,” Roman called Grey, “we have an urgent situation that requires your immediate attention.”
Grey’s lips thinned, but he maintained his facade of calm authority. “Very well.” He turned to our guests with practiced charm. “Please excuse me. Duty calls. Zotov will ensure your comfort until I return.”
Nina exited the passenger side and moved toward the other vehicles, her movements precise and economical, and Grey climbed into the Jeep with fluid grace that belied his age.
As Roman accelerated away, I caught my brother’s eye in the rearview mirror—a split-second of silent communication. He’d understood my intention perfectly.
What struck me as odd was how Nina deliberately avoided looking at the Salvinis. Her gaze swept the airstrip, the vehicles, even me—but never once landed on Vince Salvini or any of the Salvini family.
For someone trained in intelligence gathering and social manipulation, this avoidance was glaring. Nina never missed an opportunity to assess potential threats or advantages. Her deliberate avoidance of the Salvini family felt calculated rather than coincidental.
I glanced at the Salvini family.
And sure enough, Matt Salvini was tracking her movement, his expression shifting almost imperceptibly. Recognition? Confusion? Or just plain, old interest? I couldn’t quite read it, but something passed across his features that raised my internal alarms.
This was not the first time those two had met. Somehow, somewhere, their paths had crossed before.
Nina slid behind the wheel of the third Jeep, still not acknowledging the Salvinis’ presence. Her knuckles whitened slightly on the steering wheel—the only crack in her perfect composure.
I filed this observation away for later investigation. Right now, I needed to focus on getting everyone safely to the compound and keeping Isabella as far away from Grey’s immediate influence as possible. Whatever history existed between Nina and the Salvinis would have to wait.
“Shall we?” I gestured toward the remaining vehicles, watching as the Salvini brothers exchanged subtle glances.
I couldn’t hang back, but luckily, Isabella marched on, and I fell in place next to her, trying to be inconspicuous about it.
And failed.
Vince Salvini narrowed his brows and stared at me sideways while he walked on Shorty’s other side, Jemma right by his side.
I stopped them right before we reached the first Jeep. “Isabella, Mirabella, would you do me the honor of riding with me? There’s an urgent matter to discuss,” I said.
Vince stepped forward and narrowed his eyes. “My sisters stay with me.”
I met his gaze steadily, then nodded. “I totally agree. It’s a five-minute drive.
But there’s only space for three passengers per vehicle.
” I shrugged with one shoulder as if it was completely inconsequential for me.
“Jemma, would you do me the honor of riding with me instead?” I said and winked at her.
Jemma narrowed her eyes, then cocked her head. For some reason, Jemma wasn’t afraid of me at all. She also hadn’t been even when we first met at her uncle’s estate in Ireland.
Those Salvini women really were something else.
Vince’s expression darkened immediately, exactly as I’d anticipated. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he stepped forward, positioning himself slightly in front of his wife.
“You think I’d let my wife anywhere near you?” he growled, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that had made lesser men wet themselves.
I maintained an expression of mild interest as if his reaction was merely a curiosity rather than my intended outcome. “It was just a suggestion, Salvini. No need to get territorial.”
“Territorial?” Vince’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “You kidnap my sisters, force me to come to this godforsaken island, and then you want private time with my wife? You’ve got some balls, Zotov.”
I shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “I’ve been told they’re quite impressive.”
Shorty made a choking sound beside me—somewhere between a laugh and a gasp of outrage.
I didn’t look at her.
“You think this is funny?” Vince took another step forward. “I could end you right here.”
“You could try,” I replied, my tone light but my eyes conveying a different message entirely. “But then you’d never learn the real reason why you’re here.”
That gave him pause, as I knew it would. Vince Salvini might be ruthless, but he wasn’t stupid. Information was currency in our world, and I’d just dangled a carrot in front of a donkey.
“Fine,” he said after a moment, his voice tight with controlled anger. He turned to Isabella. “You go with him. See what he has to say.”
Shorty looked between us, clearly annoyed at being traded like a bargaining chip. “I’m not a messenger pigeon, Vince.”
“Please…Bella,” he said, but I didn’t miss the hesitation before he said her name.
He didn’t know that I already knew.
Then he softened his tone slightly. “I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
Shorty held his gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. But only because I want some answers myself.” She turned to me, her expression hardening again. “Let’s go, Zotov. And if you value those impressive balls of yours, you better not try anything funny.”
I gestured toward the next Jeep in line, allowing her to walk ahead of me. As she passed, I caught the faint scent of her shampoo—something citrusy and light that seemed completely at odds with the heaviness surrounding us.
Mila and Nina obviously lent some clothes to the twins because I recognized the top she was wearing.
Vince caught my arm, his grip tight enough to leave bruises. “If anything happens to her—”
“I know,” I cut him off, meeting his gaze steadily. “You’ll kill me slowly and painfully. Save the threats, Salvini. I’ve heard better from worse men. And I’m way more scared of your sister anyway.” Now that should give him some thought.
Shorty touched her brother’s arm. “It’s fine, Vince. I’ll see you guys at the compound.”
The look that passed between them spoke volumes—a silent communication I couldn’t fully decipher. Vince reluctantly backed away, his eyes promising retribution if anything happened to his sisters.
I opened the door for her, and she jumped into the passenger seat and waited until I took the wheel.
She searched my eyes with hers, suspicion warring with something else—perhaps the beginning of trust. “What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“Buying time,” I murmured back. “Wait a sec.”
She gave a nearly imperceptible nod and stared straight ahead, allowing me to drive her toward the compound while keeping her family out of earshot.
“Be super careful around Grey,” I said without preamble, keeping my voice low despite the wind whipping around us. “I want you to always surround yourself with people, ideally my siblings. Never let him catch you alone.”
Isabella’s eyes met mine. “You think he will try something with my family here? And why are you telling me this? Did you have a change of heart? Are you done being his loyal attack dog?”
The question stung more than it should have. “I work for the Paraskia Syndicate, not Grey personally.”
“That’s not an answer,” she pressed. “Why warn me?”
I had no logical response—nothing that wouldn’t reveal more than I had time to explain right now. “Just watch yourself around him. He’s not what he seems.”
“And you are?” Her voice carried a challenge.
I turned slightly, meeting her gaze directly. “I’m exactly what I seem, Shorty. I’m not a good man, but the difference is, I’m not pretending otherwise.”
She narrowed her brows. “You care for me. You’re protecting me. I want to know why.”
It was a simple question. With, theoretically, a simple answer. Paying back the debt I owed to a child who’d saved me without knowing it. Only I couldn’t tell her that, not right now, not without context. And there was another reason. Something else entirely—something I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“Let’s just say I have my reasons,” I replied, turning back to face the road ahead.
Once we reached the compound, Grey was already waiting.
I could hear Shorty’s sharp inhale and her holding her breath as soon as she saw him.
“Never let him catch you alone, promise me,” I whispered.
She sighed. “I know,” she whispered before she opened the door and exited the vehicle, and I did the same.
I stood next to her—positioned myself between her and Grey—until the rest of the convoy arrived, then we moved as a group toward the compound’s main building.
“There will be formal negotiations after everyone’s settled,” I announced, loud enough for both Grey and Vince to hear. “The conference room is being prepared as we speak.”
Grey nodded his approval while Vince’s eyes narrowed slightly. He didn’t trust this setup—smart man.
“My team will escort your family to their accommodations,” I continued. “We’ve prepared the east wing for your comfort.”
The east wing—farthest from Grey’s quarters and closest to where my siblings and I and Isabella and Mirabella stayed. Another calculated move that Grey wouldn’t miss.
I evaluated each of the Salvini men as they passed by. This was a powder keg, ready to explode.
I guided Shorty along the path, hyperaware of every inch between us.
Grey turned back and glanced at her.
And she tensed beside me, her shoulder brushing against my arm.
The brief contact sent an unwelcome jolt through my system.
I’d spent years compartmentalizing emotions, separating the mission from the man.
Now those carefully constructed walls were crumbling when I could least afford the distraction.
Yet here I was, positioning myself between her and Grey at every opportunity. Risking his suspicion. Compromising everything.
And why? Because somehow, Shorty’s safety had become more important than everything else.
She had become more important.
The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow. I’d crossed a line I couldn’t uncross. If Grey discovered what I knew—what I felt—where my loyalties lay—he wouldn’t hesitate to get me out of the way. And Shorty and my family would pay the price for my weakness.
My siblings would be in danger if I failed.
I glanced at Shorty, walking beside me with her chin held high despite the fear I knew churned beneath the surface. She was the child who had saved us without knowing it and was the woman who now needed saving, or at least protection.
I groaned, and she side-eyed me.
Everything had shifted irrevocably. I needed to protect her from Grey while ensuring the safety of my family and hers. And to do that, I needed to understand what Grey truly wanted.
Not the Salvini operations. Not the Paraskia’s agenda.
Isabella. Specifically Isabella.
What made her so valuable to him? What was he really after?