Chapter 22 – Karik
I stood at the floor-to-ceiling window in my study, cradling a half-empty glass of whiskey in my hand. My eyes were fixed on the beautiful garden outside with one hand in my pocket.
The door behind me opened, and someone walked in, their footsteps slow and confident. “The car’s ready, Boss.”
It was Sergei.
I lifted the glass to my lips and took another sip. “And my wife?” I asked without turning to look at him.
“She’s downstairs,” he answered. “All dressed up.”
“Good.”
A pause.
I sensed he had something else to add, and I knew exactly what it was about. As the silence stretched between us, he finally spoke.
“Boss…about the other night—”
“What you do with your private life is none of my business, Sergei,” I cut him off, then sipped from my glass.
Silence.
I glanced over my shoulder. “As long as it doesn’t affect your work…or hers.”
He remained stoic as ever.
I turned around, facing him squarely. “Tell me, do I have to worry about your efficiency?”
“No, Boss.”
“Is your head in the game? Are you still focused on the job?”
“One hundred percent,” he said, his low voice dripping with conviction.
“Good.” I set my empty glass on the table.
I fastened the button of my jacket and walked around my desk, my polished shoes scuffing against the floor.
“Just don’t get her pregnant,” I teased before walking past him.
Downstairs, Ellie sat on a couch with her alluring legs elegantly crossed. She wore a beautiful black gown that dipped low at the chest, revealing a teasing glimpse of her cleavage.
Her heels fit her feet perfectly, the diamonds on her wrists and neck glinting in the soft light. Her light brown hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled in a way that made my heart pause.
She stood up when she spotted me at the head of the steps, a faint frown settling on her face.
That’s when I realized just how insanely attractive she looked in that dress. It had a long slit on one side that left her thigh exposed. Not too much. But enough to make anyone look twice.
I felt something primal swirl within me, and my cock twitched in my pants. However, I kept a straight face as I climbed down the stairs.
“Ten minutes,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence of the living room. “Ten minutes. That’s how long you kept me waiting.”
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” I replied, calm as always. “That’s how I felt the last time you kept me waiting.”
Karma’s a bitch, especially when you know how to orchestrate it in your favor.
She rolled her eyes, arms crossed over her chest. “Where are we going anyway?”
I halted in front of her, drinking in the beauty standing before me.
“Another gala?”
In such close proximity, the intoxicating scent of her perfume filled my space, stirring up emotions I wasn’t ready to face.
“You’re coming with me to a Bratva meeting.”
She paused, brows arching slowly, as if processing what I’d just said. “What?”
Silence.
The shock in her gaze was priceless; it almost made me laugh. Almost.
Without another word, I walked past her, heading straight to the front door.
“Wait, are you serious?” She grabbed her purse and began struggling to catch up.
I ignored her and kept going.
Her heels clicked frantically against the floor. “Don’t you think I’m overdressed for a Bratva meeting?”
“I wasn’t drunk when I bought you that gown. Now, quit whining.” I pushed the door open and stepped outside, the cool evening breeze brushing my skin.
We got into the backseat of my favorite black SUV with Sergei at the wheel. He started the engine, and soon, the convoy rolled out of the estate.
***
The meeting was held in a private room on the top floor of a high-end restaurant. Seven black-suited men, including myself, sat around a table, the chandelier’s warm glow illuminating the space.
My wife was seated slightly behind my right shoulder. Not at the table but adjacent to it. She was enough that her presence registered without demanding acknowledgment.
The other six men weren’t pleased with my decision to bring her along. But I couldn’t care less. In fact, I’d brought her here just to piss them off and bask in their discomfort.
The last time we gathered like this, none of them had cautioned Igor Yevgeny when he began running his mouth about my wife.
I wanted them to know that she wasn’t some random woman, but someone significant enough to be in the same room with them.
Ellie didn’t disappoint me at all. She sat in silence, spine straight, head held up high. There was no sign of fear or intimidation in her gaze. Just the confidence of a woman who knew who she was and the power she possessed.
For someone who almost freaked out when she found out where I was taking her, her composure was rather remarkable.
Despite their discomfort, each of these men couldn’t help stealing hidden glances at my wife every now and then. I noticed, and the idea that they could admire from a distance filled me with pride.
Her beauty was irresistible, and that floral scent of her perfume was so powerful it filled the room. Every man at the table struggled to stay focused because her presence alone was a huge distraction.
“If Igor Yevgeny was working for the Sokolov Syndicate, how can we be sure that he’s the only one?” Boris asked, throwing the question at everyone present.
“I say we have Karik look deeper into our lives,” Mikhail answered, his eyes shifting across our faces. “He’s clearly good at fishing out the moles amongst us.”
“I agree,” Boris concurred.
“Bullshit,” Ivan objected, his brows furrowing. “I don’t want anyone looking into my private life.”
“No one gives a shit about your private life, Ivan,” Vlad said to him, voice deep and menacing. “The plan is to make sure we’re all on the same page.”
“We all are on the same page,” he insisted, his scowl deepening. “This circle, this organization, is built on trust. I don’t want anyone invading my privacy.” He glanced at me.
I sat in silence, watching. Observing.
“What are you hiding, Ivan?” Vlad asked him. “Why are you so defensive?”
Ivan turned to Vlad, his voice laced with displeasure. “Are you accusing me of something?”
“Are you guilty of something?”
A pause.
Both men glared at each other, fingers curling into fists. The tension in the air was heavy, and at any moment from now, things could turn ugly.
“Gentlemen, now isn’t the time to fight amongst ourselves,” I said, my voice low and even. “Isn’t that right…Roman?” My gaze shifted toward him.
Roman had been lost in his own thoughts for the past few minutes. And his lack of focus had everything to do with my wife’s presence. He’d been stealing secret glances at her, thinking no one would notice.
Unfortunately for him, I did.
He blinked back to the present and cleared his throat, then lowered his head.
“Karik is right,” Alexei, the oldest amongst us, said, ignoring Roman’s inappropriate behavior. “We shouldn’t fight one another. The purpose of this meeting is to make sure that none of us is compromised.”
The door opened, and a figure walked in, his presence commanding attention. Tall. Lean. A pair of striking steel-gray eyes that seem to catch everything. His black hair was slicked back, each strand perfectly in place.
His polished shoes clicked on the floor as he stepped inside, dominating the room without saying a word. The fabric of his tailored black suit clung to his body, accentuating his biceps and triceps.
My eyes flicked toward Ellie, as if to make sure she wasn’t swept up by the aura of this man’s presence. She watched him in silence. Although her expression remained neutral, the idea that she might’ve admired him stung more than it should.
She was supposed to have eyes for me. Only me.
This newcomer looked familiar, but I wasn’t sure where I’d seen him before. Alexei had mentioned we’d be joined by a Bratva strategist and a financial controller.
I guessed that was him.
He scanned the room in a single smooth sweep before taking the empty chair at the far end of the table. The man was late, yet he offered neither apology nor explanation.
My kind of person.
“Gentlemen,” Alexei began. “Meet Rodion Tarasov. Your cousin.” The last statement was directed at me.
Rodion Tarasov?
No wonder he looked so familiar. I’d met him once before, seven or eight years ago. He was my distant cousin. The Tarasov line branched far enough back that the connection was more symbolic than biological.
“You must be Karik,” he said, looking right at me.
I held his gaze across the table. “I am.”
Silence.
His gaze shifted toward Ellie, and it lingered for about two seconds. It wasn’t interest. More like inventory. She didn’t look away, didn’t speak either.
He looked at me again, his expression unchanging. At first, I thought he was going to make a derogatory remark about her presence in this room. And I was more than ready to engage him if he crossed that line.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he said calmly, “I’m certain there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why some rules are broken.”
He was referring to my wife’s presence.
I stared right at him, as if daring him to speak out of tone. “Indeed.”
Again, silence.
The others exchanged hidden glances amongst themselves, but no one dared say a word.
“Excellent.” He leaned back in his chair. “Carry on, Alexei.”
I might not be a big fan of Rodion Tarasov, but he and I weren’t so different after all. Cold. Ruthless. Calculating. Intimidating.
***
The drive back was quiet.
This time, I was the one at the wheel while she sat in the front passenger seat, gazing out the window. I’d instructed Sergei and the other men to move out first while I followed behind.
Driving always helped me clear my head. Besides, dismissing them meant I could enjoy my wife’s company. Just the two of us.
The scent of her perfume and that of my cologne filled the car’s cabin, charging it with something unnamed.
I glanced at her exposed lap—her fresh, alluring thighs. The sight awakened a deadly desire in me, the kind that tightened my grip on the steering wheel.