Chapter 11
SASHA
Rage courses through me.
The door shuts softly behind Gabriella as she leaves, her scent lingering in the room. I keep my hands flat on my desk. The urge to follow her out is stupid and strong. I press it down.
“Your little protege has a bit of an attitude,” Ruth says. Her tone is light, amused. “It’s almost charming. Almost.”
I lift my gaze to her. “The way you conducted yourself with her was inappropriate.”
She arches her eyebrows, as if she has no idea what I’m talking about. Her feigned innocence pushes me further. “What do you mean? I was just making a little small talk.”
The fact that she would even try such an excuse makes me want to toss her out on her ass. But I know Ruth too well. Pretending she doesn’t know what she did in order to get a rise out of me is precisely her angle.
I side-step it and speak coldly to her. “You will not speak that way to Gabriella ever again. And get off my desk.”
Ruth blinks, genuinely surprised for half a second, then smiles like I’ve told a joke. “Relax,” she purrs, sliding off the corner of my desk. “I’m just teasing.”
Once on her feet, she begins a slow circle around the room, her fingertips grazing the polished edge of my desk. I know this lazy prowl. She wants me to watch her body in motion, to be distracted.
Not going to happen.
“Do you remember,” she says, softer, as she steps just a bit into my space, “when you were the one who could still be teased? I do.” She lifts her hand and grazes my shoulder with her fingertips. The silk of her dress whispers as she leans close.
I don’t react. Those nights I spent with Ruth last year had been a mistake. But they’re a mistake that only one of us seems to have moved past.
Since Gabriella, every other woman seems diminished.
Ruth’s eyes search my face, as if hoping I’ll suddenly crack into a big, stupid smile and tell her I’m only screwing around, that I’m still on her side. That doesn’t happen.
Her eyes do flash, as if she’s just put two and two together.
“Oh,” she says. “I see. I get it now.” She laughs once with just a tinge of cruelty at the edges.
Then she nods her head slowly in understanding.
“So that’s why you’re snarling over a finance assistant.
” She tilts her head a bit. “You’d risk getting on my bad side over some Rubenesque little PowerPoint jockey? ”
“Watch your mouth, Ruth.”
She lets out an amused snort of a laugh. “Touchy.”
“You were crass,” I say. “Don’t make that mistake again.”
Her lashes lower. “Or?”
“Or you’ll learn what it is to be without an ally.”
She huffs, still amused, still not taking me seriously.
“This little performance is very pakhan. Is that what she likes? The angry king lashing out at his subjects? Or does she even know who you are, what you do?” Her eyes glitter.
“Don’t be absurd, Sasha. You can growl at me in here, but you know what happens to men who displease my family.
You’ll get cut out. You’ll lose your customs cushion at the docks.
Your Dublin connections will vanish. And I know for a fact that you don’t have the wiggle room to replace those connections before your people here in Chicago will get very, very testy. ”
Ruth is many things, but she’s not stupid. Not even close. She knows the precise ways in which she could put the screws to my operation, and which pressure points she could push to really make me hurt.
I let the silence settle. She expects me to apologize, as if I’m a mere subject who forgot his place. Not a chance.
She goes on. “She’s a liability. You know it; I know it. Men like you don’t get to keep pets. Not if you want to keep her, and yourself, alive.”
I’ve heard enough. “I’m going to say this one time, Ruth, and one time only.
So listen closely. If you threaten or insult Gabriella again, the O’Donnell contracts with AngelCorp dissolve overnight.
You’ve got product, but I’ve got logistics.
Every route your merchandise takes will freeze.
Every ship of yours will develop a docking clearance problem at exactly the wrong moment.
And when you call to try and fix it, no one will pick up. ”
The quiet hum of the air conditioning is suddenly quite loud. I can practically hear her weigh the bluff and search for the tell that says that’s indeed what this is.
She doesn’t find it.
Ruth laughs again, but the tone has moved from mocking to careful, nervous even. “You’d burn the decades of our families working together over her?”
I let her words hang in the air as I make my way to my chair.
I ease into it, not hurrying myself in the slightest. “I would. Because right now, she’s the most important person in this operation.
And because not only did you insult her, but you also did it in front of me.
You tested me. Tell me, Ruth—did I pass? ”
She says nothing, instead biting her lower lip and chewing it a bit. I can sense I’ve finally caught her off guard.
“If you think I’m screwing around, I encourage you to try me.”
Her demeanor shifts. She’s settled on her next move. When she curls her mouth just so, narrows her eyes hungrily, I practically want to laugh out loud as I realize what’s about to happen.
Seduction.
Her eyes locked onto mine. Ruth moves her hands up slowly to the collar of her dress. She unbuttons one button, then another, just enough to show the black lace of her bra and the slight curve of the cleavage she knows most men can’t resist.
“We used to have fun, remember?” she asks, voice low, dangerous. “Long, lazy nights and mornings. Come on, Sasha. Don’t be boring. And let’s not make enemies of each other over a little business drama.”
She thinks nostalgia will loosen me. It won’t.
I don’t move. I don’t let her use the memories as leverage. “This isn’t last year, Ruth.” My tone is flat, bloodless. “I’m not interested in repeating bad decisions.”
She laughs softly, still trying to slide back into the rhythm we once had. “You’re so impossibly strict now. Where’s the Sasha who could bend?” She smirks. “And thrust?”
“Enough.”
Her expression shifts, amusement fraying into annoyance.
“God, you’re serious about this, aren’t you?
” There’s a bit of acidity to her tone. “You know what would happen if you were to pull the trigger on that, right? You’d send both of us reeling as we tried to figure out how to work without one another.
It’d create a nice little vacuum. And who, exactly, do you think would rush in to fill it?
Peter, that’s who. You’d push me out to prove a point, only to become vulnerable to him in the process. Not a smart move, if you ask me.”
“I’ll expand my own operations, cut him out.”
Her smile drops. For the first time since she walked into my office, she seems to realize that she’s quite possibly not going to get what she wants.
“You’ve changed, Sasha,” she says, her voice small.
“I have.”
“It’s starting to sound like the rumors are true—that you’re looking to pull away from the Bratva, merge it with AngelCorp in a way that makes you completely legitimate.” She says the word with a slight, mocking lilt.
“I suppose you’ll just have to see what happens.”
She straightens, smoothing the front of her dress and rebuttoning the buttons. “Well, I suppose we don’t need to be too hasty about anything. But you must realize that this girl is a liability. If these big plans of yours don’t pan out, you might find yourself regretting keeping her so close.”
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s an assessment of reality. And Sasha, please don’t think so little of me that you’d think I’d disrespect you by marching into your office and issuing threats.”
“So just insults to my staff, unwanted seduction attempts—that sort of thing.”
She winks. “You’ve got it.”
I snort. “As pleasant as this has been, I’ve got work to do.”
“No doubt, you do.”
I press the button on my desk, the one that summons Bogdan. He appears an instant later, stepping through the office doors and holding one open.
“Seeing Ms. O’Donnell out?” he asks.
She rolls her eyes. “I can see myself out, thank you very much.” She strides out. The click of Ruth’s heels fades into the distance, the echo of her stride down the hall reminding me of gunfire.
Bogdan allows himself a small grin, as if amused by her coldness. “Got some information for you on the near hit-and-run.”
“Tell me.”
“I’ll go get the file.”
He leaves, and I’m alone. The office is quiet, Ruth’s perfume still lingering in the air like a visitor that doesn’t realize it’s worn out its welcome.
Now that she’s gone, I’m able to turn my attention to what my mind is really on—the report.
I pull the binder in front of me and open it.
Minutes pass as I skim. It becomes clear that the proposal isn’t just competent—it’s perfectly done.
I’d expected brilliance from Gabriella, but this is on another level.
Admiration clicks into place, and fear follows it like a shadow.
Gabriella’s value to this company is made plain as day by the proposal.
And that’s why someone would want her gone.
If someone wanted to make sure the Orlov Bratva stayed in the criminal world, didn’t expand, didn’t go legitimate, taking her out would set my plans back quite a bit.
Rage boils in me again, the same as it did when I’d first heard the news about the attempted hit.
It’s true that she’s valuable to the company, needed in a purely practical sense.
But there’s more to it than that. She’s mine.
And she’s carrying my child. I’d cut a bloody swath across this city to get my revenge for what someone tried to pull this morning.
And when I want something, I get it.
Gabriella is central to everything. If I can use her brilliance to cement this merger, everything will change.
AngelCorp will incorporate Dandelion, and I can move it further along the path to legitimacy.
A merger would make any kind of conflict between the Orlov and Morozov Bratvas prohibitively expensive and pointless.
The men on the Orlov council would grumble, but no doubt they’d shut up as soon as the profits started rolling in.
Losing Ruth’s connections would hurt. Her channels move fast when I need speed. But I could build new ones—and I will.
For now, I’ll need to play nice with her, but I’ll be damned if it won’t be nice having a snake like her out of my affairs. One of my father’s biggest mistakes was getting tangled up with the O’Donnells, and it’s a mistake I plan on rectifying.
I flip the page and get back to work. A storm is coming, and I need to make sure we’re ready.
A knock sounds at the door. “Come in.”
Bogdan enters, a manila folder in his hands. “A little info on the car, but nothing valuable.”
He sets the folder on my desk, and I flip through it: a few pictures from the CCTV footage at the intersection.
“Plates were stolen, of course. And footage at the intersection looped for twelve minutes. Professional job.”
I close the folder. “They won’t miss twice. She’s in their sights, and they’re not going to stop until she’s neutralized.”
“You’re right about that. You want to put her on full lockdown? The penthouse is the safest place for her, and I can make sure she doesn’t leave.”
I picture her seated at her desk—the line of her shoulders, the way she bites her lower lip when she’s trying to focus. Part of me wants to send Bogdan out, call her in, and make her beg for it, like I know she would. I push those thoughts aside before I act on them.
“Take her to the penthouse. Keep her there until I say otherwise.”
“She’ll argue.”
“I’ll win.”
“Understood.” Bogdan leaves.
I rise from my desk and stand at the window. The sun is beginning to dip, casting the towers of downtown in a golden glow. My reflection stares back, almost unfamiliar. On the desk behind me lays the folder that will determine the future of my empire.
No doubt Ruth is in panic mode, calling her father, who’ll call a cousin, who’ll call a dock supervisor. Something will slow down somewhere. They’ll test how serious I am. They’ll learn I’m not bluffing.
Half the Bratva men in the city will feel the shift, too. You don’t talk to an O’Donnell like that without consequences.
City lights flicker against the glass.
I turn my attention back to the report, turning a page and scanning. I’m not finished with it yet, but I can see, without a doubt, that it’s just what I wanted, just what I need, to put my plans in motion.
And I’m ready.