Chapter 23 – Ivan #2
“They hacked your own enterprise,” I said, now slightly amused.
How could Vince Salvini not know what had been happening directly under his nose?
“She exposed Grey’s Singapore trafficking ring last year,” I continued, seeing no reason to backtrack now.
“Redirected the funds to various charities. Grey’s been hunting for Iset’s real identity ever since. ”
Matt and Vince exchanged looks of disbelief as Vince processed this revelation.
I watched the mental calculations play across his face—memories reexamined, unexplained absences suddenly making sense, the pieces falling into place.
“My wife and my sister,” Vince said slowly, “have been operating together as vigilante hackers right under our noses?”
I nodded. “And your sister is very, very good at it.”
A flash of something—anger, perhaps—crossed Vince’s face before he masked it, then his expression shifted slightly, something like reluctant pride flickering across his features.
Interesting. For all his protective instincts, he couldn’t help but admire her skill.
I understood the feeling all too well. “And Grey figured out it was her?”
“That’s why we demanded her,” I confirmed. “Though I didn’t know the reason at the time. She cost him millions. She’s that good.”
“You almost sound impressed, Zotov,” Alex noted, his tone probing.
I kept my expression neutral though something in my chest tightened at the accusation buried in his observation. I was more than impressed by his sister. Actually, if I counted all of the feelings I had about Shorty, they went beyond the top five. “I recognize and appreciate exceptional skill.”
He continued to stare at me, and for whatever reason, I felt the need to continue. “It’s not personal.”
The lie tasted bitter. Everything about Shorty had become personal. But before I revealed that in front of her family, I needed to talk to her about how she wanted to handle it.
I moved to the stone railing, giving myself space to think.
The ocean stretched before us, deceptively peaceful against the chaos of our conversation.
The sun glinted off the water, momentarily blinding in its intensity.
“Grey’s obviously gone rogue,” I continued, “but Isabella and I have a plan to expose him.”
Vince’s eyes narrowed again. “Isabella and you?”
I nodded.
“You seem awfully close to my sister. What’s that all about?
” He stared me down, and I kept eye contact while I outlined our strategy to access the Paraskia database, explaining we suspected it might already contain evidence of Grey’s unauthorized operations.
“If we’re right, and if we can find proof, we can expose him.
” And if I was very lucky, Vince would forget the question he asked about Shorty and me and our relationship.
“And you think your organization will act when it has watched for this long?” Matt asked, his tone suggesting he understood institutional corruption all too well.
“The council values stability above all,” I answered. “Grey’s actions risk exposure of the entire network. Even if it’s not their moral code, self-preservation will force their hand. And to be honest, I’m not sure if Grey isn’t already being investigated.”
Vince pushed off from the railing, his movement fluid and controlled. “This all sounds very convenient, Zotov. Grey becomes the scapegoat, the Paraskia cleanses its reputation, and you… What exactly do you get out of this?”
A fair question and one I wasn’t entirely sure I had an answer to anymore. A week ago, my motivation would have been clear—leverage, security, the means to part ways peacefully, and continued protection of my siblings. Now…
“Grey has compromised everything the organization stands for,” I said instead. “And he’s put my family at risk by using them for his personal shit.”
Not the whole truth but not a lie either.
“So what now?” Alex asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was calm, controlled—all the more dangerous for its reasonableness.
“We wait until we confirm Grey’s off the island, which should be any minute now, then make our move,” I responded. “Isabella accesses the database, we gather evidence, we expose him through the proper channels, and we are off the island.”
“And we’re supposed to just trust you?” Matt challenged, skepticism evident in every line of his body.
I met his gaze steadily. “We all want the same thing—to protect our families and end Grey’s operation.”
The simple truth resonated across the patio. Even Cristo’s aggressive stance softened marginally. In that moment, a tentative alliance formed—fragile as glass but potentially just as effective when wielded correctly.
“You’ve been investigating Grey? So have we,” I added, allowing a calculated vulnerability to enter my voice. “Perhaps we’re not so different after all.”
Vince snorted, but the sound lacked its earlier hostility. “Don’t push it, Zotov.”
“The Paraskia was never meant to be what Grey has used it for,” I continued. “Your grandfathers created something noble that he’s corrupted. Bringing him down serves both our interests.”
The sudden whirring of helicopter blades broke the momentary peace. All of us tensed instinctively. Anton’s phone buzzed. He answered, spoke briefly, then ended the call.
“Grey just left by helicopter,” Anton announced.
Urgency surged through me, but alongside it came immediate unease. “That’s not his usual MO for traveling to Italy,” I said, frowning. “Keep tabs on his flight path.”
Grey always traveled to Italy by private jet—a matter of comfort, speed, and preference. The helicopter would take much longer, which felt off given Grey’s urgency. The timing felt wrong.
Cristo and Vince exchanged concerned glances, sensing that my reaction held significant meaning. They weren’t wrong.
“We should move now,” I urged. “Grey’s departure gives us a window. Isabella and I can access the system, see what he’s been hiding.”
The men nodded in agreement though the trust between us remained fragile. We began walking back toward the pool area where the women had gathered.
Cristo and Alex led, with Matt and Dom behind them.
Anton, Vince, and I walked slightly behind.
“Have Mila set up secure access in the communications room,” I instructed Anton quietly. “Make sure Nina checks and monitors for any surveillance Grey might have left behind.”
Anton nodded, his expression serious. “Should we report his departure, as well?”
I considered this carefully. “Not yet. Let’s confirm what we’re dealing with first.”
I moved to follow when Vince’s hand closed around my upper arm, his grip firm. “A word,” he said, his tone leaving no room for refusal.
I nodded to Anton to continue without me, then turned to face Vince Salvini. His eyes, so similar to Isabella’s in color but lacking her intelligence, assessed me coldly.
“I see how you look at my sister,” he said once we were alone.
I maintained a neutral expression despite the internal conflict his words triggered. Denial would sound hollow. Confirmation would end our fragile alliance before it had begun. The memory of Bella’s body against mine last night threatened to break my professional facade.
“Keep your hands off her,” Vince continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. “Whatever game you’re playing, she’s off-limits.”
The possessiveness in his tone triggered an unexpected surge of irritation. Isabella wasn’t a chess piece to be controlled or handled without agency. She’d made her choices last night, just as I had. Still, antagonizing her brother now would be counterproductive.
I had a split second to decide my approach. The truth would probably detonate everything. Plus, I needed to discuss things with Shorty first. “This isn’t a game,” I said evenly. “But as a brother, I understand your concern.”
Strategic ambiguity. Neither confirming nor denying his suspicions while acknowledging his position. The response seemed to satisfy him, for now.
“It would be easier if she wasn’t so determined to put herself in danger,” I added, unable to completely suppress my frustration with her recklessness.
Something shifted in Vince’s expression—recognition, perhaps, of a shared exasperation. “She’s always been headstrong.”
I nodded. “Not unlike your wife.”
That made Vince smile. “I’ve noticed.”
A moment of understanding passed between us—two men who cared about women who seemed determined to court danger. It didn’t make us friends, but it created a thread of connection.
“How do you handle Jemma?” I asked.
“Not the topic of conversation,” he said, then narrowed his brows. “We’re not friends, Zotov.”
I nodded and mentally calculated just how fucked up this situation really was. No way would Vince Salvini ever be okay with his sister dating a thug like me—one that he hated.
“We’re temporary allies with a common enemy,” Vince said.
I nodded again because what else was there to do? Because he was right. This was a temporary truce. Very temporary and fragile because as soon as Vince discovered what had already happened between Shorty and me, he would probably kill me. At least that’s what I would do if the roles were reversed.
“Sometimes that’s enough,” I replied. Because the probability of Shorty and me having any kind of future was way down there.
And the professional needed to take precedence over the personal anyway. We needed to neutralize Grey first. Everything else would have to wait until after.
As we approached the pool area, my eyes found Isabella immediately despite my attempts not to look for her. She sat laughing with my sisters, her head tilted back, dark brown hair catching the sunlight. Something in my chest tightened painfully.
I deliberately maintained physical distance, positioning myself at the opposite end of the gathering. I settled the professional mask I’d worn for years back into place with practiced ease.
From my position, I observed the subtle currents moving through the group.
Cristo gravitated instantly toward Cara, his body language shifting from predatory to protective.
Alex maintained a watchful stance near Fee, his eyes constantly scanning for threats while returning to her with magnetic regularity.
Matt seemed to gravitate toward Nina, who appeared equally committed to ignoring his entire existence.
Isabella glanced up, her eyes finding mine across the distance. For a moment, everything else faded—the mission, the danger, the complications.
I intentionally looked away and ignored her until she looked away, as well, and resumed her conversation with Mila.
Anton approached, his expression carefully neutral. “Communications room is ready when you are,” he said quietly.
I looked back at Shorty. Whatever existed between us would have to wait. Grey was the immediate threat, and eliminating that threat was the rational thing to do and took priority over everything else.
But as I watched her—confident, focused, determined—I knew rationality had shockingly little to do with my decisions and actions anymore.
I would protect Isabella Salvini with my life if necessary, not because it was tactically sound or professionally justified, but because something fundamental had shifted inside me.
For the first time in my adult life, survival wasn’t what mattered most.
She was.
And even though that realization should’ve been the most terrifying I’d faced in years, it was the easiest ever.