Chapter 31
SASHA
“What the hell were you thinking, Ruth?”
I don’t shout. Shouting would be unnecessary. But I’m goddamn furious.
The private corridor outside of the ballroom is quiet, aside from the jazz and laughter seeping in through the walls. Ruth stands before me, perfectly composed, coiled like a serpent.
Her lips curve into a satisfied smile. “Oh, Sasha, love, always so dramatic. You’d think I shot someone in there.”
“You might as well have,” I snarl. “You do not bring her into this like that. Not in public, not here.”
She chuckles in response, unfazed. “Relax. I was going to savor the reveal. But something about the moment felt ripe. I couldn’t help myself.”
I step closer, just enough to make her flinch, though she tries to hide it. “You need to leave. And I anticipate you listening to me.”
She stays still, smiling. “I plan on leaving. But there’s a reason I came, Sasha. I have some news for you.”
The way she’s drawing everything out sends a pulse of rage through me. I don’t give her the satisfaction of letting her see it.
“What is it?”
“It’s about our dealings. Congratulations on the merger and all, but I’ve been doing some thinking, and I believe this is a good place to mark the end of our business associations.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Go on.”
She tilts her head, diamonds catching the low light.
“Peter Morozov and I have been in conversation. A mutually beneficial one, in fact. As you can imagine, he didn’t take the news of the merger well.
Put yourself in his shoes, after all—being told by your own son that he’s been all but cut out of the family business and too late to do anything about it? ”
“Get to the point.”
“Of course, love. What you and little Johan didn’t know, however, is that Peter has operations neither of you know about. Call them side hustles, if you like. Drugs, weapons—all that good stuff. He’s been making some serious money, carving out a little empire. So you didn’t cut him out completely.”
“But he’s out of the legitimate affairs—he’s got nothing but criminal operations.”
“And that’s how it should be. You and Johan are ruining a good thing, neutering what our parents and their parents created. So when Peter came to me with the idea of working together, I was more than interested.”
Every word is a nail in the coffin of the fragile equilibrium I’ve spent months building. I’d anticipated Peter to kick and scream a little bit, but to ultimately understand his place. And, foolishly, I’d assumed Ruth would favor whatever would make her the most money.
“You’ve chosen your side.”
Her smile widens, all white teeth. “I prefer to think of it as diversification. Peter may be losing the heir to his empire, but he’s gaining an ally who understands the value of tradition. Together, we’ll do what you couldn’t—create a true underground empire.”
“Then that makes you my enemy.”
A shrug. “Whether we’re enemies or not depends entirely on you, love.”
“I’m still at war with Peter. Surely I don’t need to spell out the implications.”
“No, you don’t.” Her tone is almost playful. “Which means you’ll have to learn to play nice or finally settle things between you two the way men and women in our world do.”
I narrow my eyes. “What do you know about Gabriella?”
Ruth’s smile changes, showing off more teeth. It reminds me of a blade being slowly slid free of its sheath. “Everything.”
My blood runs cold. “How?”
“I’ve had my suspicions that things were a little unconventional between you two. I paid some very skilled individuals to gather intelligence. And my, did it pay off in dividends.”
“Does Peter know?”
“Not yet,” she says sweetly, honey dripping off her words. “But information has a way of traveling, especially when a woman feels underappreciated.”
I hold her gaze. “You’re blackmailing me.”
“I’m merely reminding you of the stakes. Treat me properly, allow me to run my operations, maybe provide a little logistical assistance when required, and I stay quiet. Disrespect me again, and Peter finds out he has a daughter.”
For a moment, I actually hear a faint ringing in my ears. If Peter learns the truth, the war flares up again. What will happen will make the Bratva war of decades past look like a goddamn bar fight in comparison. This city will burn.
Ruth smiles brightly, reading my face. “You always did underestimate me, love. You thought I was just another piece on the board to move. But today, you’re the pawn.” She sets her glass on the nearby table. “I’ll be taking my leave. You’ve got plenty to think about, I imagine.”
She turns and walks away, the click of her heels fading as she strolls down the corridor and around the corner.
I stand there for a long time, working through the fury boiling inside. Part of me wants to call Bogdan, tell him Ruth can’t live to see the morning. That’d be one way to end this, or make it even worse.
I run my hand through my hair, forcing composure. Ruth has the truth, and she’s dangling it like a lit match over gasoline.
I give myself a few moments to get myself together. My next move is to speak to Gabriella, see how she’s feeling. When I’m ready, I step back inside the ballroom.
The music’s softer, couples swaying under the low lights.
I scan the crowd for Gabriella but can’t find her.
I do, however, spot Angie near the bar, laughing politely with one of Johan’s men.
She looks up as I approach, almost certainly noting the storm behind my eyes.
The man she was speaking to gingerly steps away.
“Where is she?” I ask.
Angle blinks. “Gabby?”
“Yes.” My tone comes out sharper than I intend. “She’s not here.”
She glances toward the doors, a slight frown on her face. “She said she was feeling sick. Bogdan took her home about twenty minutes ago.”
I frown. Sick? That could mean anything—from nausea to panic to realizing the world she’s standing in will never be safe for her or the babies.
Angie studies me, her tone careful. “Everything okay?”
No. Not even in the slightest. But I nod anyway. “Fine.”
She doesn’t believe me, clearly, but lets it go.
I leave. It’s a bit of a faux pas to quietly exit, but I have bigger matters on my mind. As I walk out into the cold night, I can still hear Ruth’s voice echoing in my head: Peter doesn’t know yet.
Yet.
I pull my phone from my pocket, staring for several long moments at the black screen.
Gabby’s gone home, Ruth is making her moves, and Peter’s watching everything.
The empire I’m building with Johan is fragile, and the war I’ve managed to keep dormant for years is on the verge of heating up in a way I might not be able to contain.