Chapter 12 —Demyon
The meeting was one word away from turning into a fuckin’ bloodbath. Antonio Gonzalez, the leader of the Italian Mob, was smart enough to have quickly detected that the meeting was already going south.
His spokesman was starting to get on my nerves with his stupid attempt at a negotiation. He was supposed to be the bridge between Antonio and me, the one who would help both organizations reach an agreement on our territorial disputes.
Yet he was blowing it.
If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was doing it on purpose so both sides would clash. I couldn’t understand why Antonio needed that douchebag to speak for him when he could speak for himself.
The idiot must’ve had a death wish, considering the threats he was hurling at me, knowing full well I hated being threatened. He was lucky Antonio intervened when he did because I was about to put a bullet in his head, consequences be damned.
Antonio had called for this meeting, saying he wanted us to find common ground on our territorial disputes. According to him, there’d been enough bloodshed already, and he’d lost more men this year alone than he had in the past.
I agreed to meet with him out of respect for his courage in admitting defeat. So when his spokesman began raining subtle threats about neutralizing my organization if we didn’t abide by their rules, I almost lost my temper.
It was a good thing Antonio had taken over the conversation when he did. None of them would’ve left that meeting alive. He and his men had no idea how close they came to meeting their makers because one of them couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
I already had snipers at strategic locations around our building, each waiting for my signal. Ten of my best men had infiltrated Antonio’s security the day after he called for the meeting and blended in with his men.
Meaning ten of those he called bodyguards were my people. He’d been doomed from the start, and he didn’t even know it. While we were talking, my men all subtly nodded at me, hinting at their readiness to obliterate the enemies at my command.
I took these extra precautions to be two steps ahead—just in case the meeting was an ambush. In my line of work, trust was a luxury men like me couldn’t afford; one wrong move, and you’re dead.
At the end of the day, the crisis was avoided because Antonio decided to step up and take control of the situation. We finally reached an agreement on our territorial disputes and set ground rules to keep both parties in line.
When the meeting was over, we went our separate ways, hoping this new alliance between us would yield more profit than expected.
All through the drive home, my mind was filled with thoughts of that crazy little devil back at the mansion. A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I recalled the stunt she pulled the other night at the event.
I’d been furious at first when I saw her with another man. But thinking about it now, I realized she might have only been trying to get under my skin the whole time. Perhaps her plan was to get a reaction out of me, and like an idiot, I fell right into her trap.
Her effect on me was becoming a great concern, especially because I often lost my sense of reason around her. She successfully manipulated my emotions at the event without even trying. That was a huge problem.
I was so engrossed in thoughts of her that I didn’t realize we’d gotten home until the front gates parted. When the vehicle pulled over outside the magnificent building looming before us, I stepped out of the backseat and headed inside.
My shoes scuffed against the floor, the soft clicks echoing off the walls as I moved through the foyer. I ran my fingers through my hair and rubbed my tired eyes when I stepped into the living room.
I was barely three paces from the door when I spotted her at the head of the stairs. She was wearing a long, floral, brown dress that reached the floor. Her hair fell in effortless waves down her shoulders, and in those stormy blue eyes was a glint of something strange.
She seemed different in a way I couldn’t explain. Her expression was softer than usual. And the longer we stared into each other’s eyes, the more something cracked open inside me.
Quietly, I walked through the living room and climbed the stairs with slow, majestic steps
“You were gone a long time,” she said, standing in my way, her voice laced with something lighter than the usual disdain. “What happened?”
I raised my brows. “Why? Did you miss me?”
“Yeah, you wish.” She rolled her eyes. “Next time you wanna leave me alone for a long time, be sure to leave something behind to help me cope with the boredom.” She let the words sink in for a moment. “My phone, for instance.”
I cast a disbelieving look at her, my brows still raised. “Not gonna happen.”
She blocked my path when I tried to move past her. “Look, I know I’m your prisoner,” she began, “but like I said before, I don’t do well in gilded cages.”
Was it just me, or was she being unusually polite?
“Since you flew me all the way to your hometown, the least you can do is show me around,” she added. “It’s my first time in Russia, and I’d love to see the place.”
Who are you, and what have you done with my crazy little devil?
Maybe it was because she asked nicely, or maybe it was something else. But one thing was certain: I couldn’t refuse her request—didn’t have it in me to turn her down.
“Let’s say I decide to indulge you,” I said, my voice smooth and clean. “What’s in it for me? What do I get in return?”
She squinted her eyes slightly, as if in deep thought. “Peace and quiet,” she said. “You’ll get some peace and quiet.”
“You strike a hard bargain,” I teased.
For the first time ever, she smiled, a faint, genuine grin that lit up her whole face. Instantly, my stone-cold heart melted, and I didn’t realize the smirk on my lips until it was too late.
***
Snow drifted in slow, lazy flakes around us as we walked down the street that night. Our shoes scuffed against the cobblestone, the streetlamps casting long shadows across the narrow path.
The full moon hung in the night sky, its ethereal glow silvering everything it touched. We walked in silence beneath the celestial canvas, my men keeping a safe distance behind.
I buried my hands in my pockets, still in the same black suit from earlier. Because she wanted to step outside tonight, I didn’t have the time to change or get some rest, even though my joints were killing me.
As she moved, the hem of her floral dress brushed the snow-dusted ground, and her palms rubbed her arms against the biting chill. The knitted hat on her head framed her face, and her hair spilled out in damp waves from the cold.
For some reason, she’d forgotten to wear her furry coat, and now she was shivering like a wet duck.
“Wait,” I said, stopping in my tracks.
She did the same, her arms crossed over her chest as if to keep herself warm.
“Here.” I shed my jacket and gently draped it over her shoulders.
She lifted her head and met my gaze, shocked by this little gesture. Quietly, she slipped into it and pulled it tighter before rubbing her palms against each other. “Thank you,” she murmured.
“If you freeze under my watch, who’s gonna keep me company?” I teased, loosening the tie around my neck.
“Yeah. I almost forgot I’m here for your entertainment.” She shot a quick glance at me. “You do realize that at some point, you’re gonna have to start paying me for emotional support.” She sneezed, her body jerking with reflex. “Most men pay good money for that.”
I paused for a moment, my expression a bit softer than usual. “What do you think this is?”
She looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Is this your idea of payment?”
“Time is also a currency,” I answered, “a very valuable one at that. So yes. This is my idea of payment.”
She mumbled something under her breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
My lips curled into a small smirk as a wave of strange emotions washed over me. I wasn’t sure what it was about this girl that made me feel more alive whenever I was around her. But I liked it. I liked the feeling and was already getting used to it.
I took her to a small café across the street, one I used to visit when I was a boy. The place hadn’t changed one bit, and now buried childhood memories came flooding back. Things were simpler and a lot easier back in the day. Life was good. Until it threw me a curveball.
The brass bells chimed when we walked into the café, greeted by the warmth of the cozy interior. A wave of nostalgia washed over me as the familiar aromas of freshly baked bread and vanilla cake wafted into my nostrils.
The space was small, all wooden counters and mismatched chairs. Just the way I remembered. My not-so-crazy little devil closed her eyes for a fleeting moment and drew in a deep breath, savoring the delicious aroma that filled the air.
“Hmmm. Smells so good,” she confessed, muttering under her breath.
We headed over to the counter, where Zoya Petrovna was busy grumbling to herself in Russian. The old woman had grown older, with wrinkles on her face and gray hair pulled back into a messy bun.
She was wiping a tray with slow, practiced ease when we arrived at the counter.
“Dobry vecher,” I greeted her in Russian.
She paused, eyes narrowing a bit as she raised her head. Her brows arched in surprise, and her face lit up with a bright smile. “Demyon Tarasov?” she whispered, her eyes shining with mirth.
Before I could react, she rushed around the counter with her arms stretched out.
“My little wolf!” She cackled, cupping my face in her palms. “You’re all grown up now,” she added in Russian, pulling me into her warm embrace.
“Zoya Petrovna. Still as dramatic as I remember,” I replied in the same language.
“Dramatic?” She playfully slammed her fist against my chest. “You disappear for years—no calls, no postcards. Nothing. And I’m the dramatic one?”
I laughed.