Chapter Twelve - Kiara
Has he done it or not? Walking around in circles in this stupid suite has me going stir-crazy. The last time I saw Akim was two days ago, and ever since then all I’ve done is worry about my father rotting in the dungeon of a jail cell. All I want is confirmation that my father’s out of jail. If I can hear his voice as proof, or get a verification, Akim can do whatever he wants after that.
Fatalistic I know, but I’ve made my bed and now I have to lie in it. His freedom is all I care about. Nothing else. Despite Akim’s threats, I sense he’s not going to get rid of me. And the strange, toxic chemistry we have together is unnerving. After his dramatic entrance, I found myself rebooting the sex tape in my head, feeling needy for his touch.
It made me wake up in a pool of sweat I didn’t need, but I can’t help the weird, warped fantasy of him on top of me playing out. It left Ramona concerned. I hope she doesn’t tell him about the soaked bed sheets. I don’t want him swimming in any more power than he already has.
I tapped into a part of him that had a shred of humanity, it seems. Maybe it was my I-don’t-care attitude that triggered him to make that call, but if he did follow through, I have no doubt it will produce a benefit to him and his stupid Bratva cronies. Pacing and biting my nails, I think about the fact I haven’t considered what should happen after my father is out of jail.
What are the Bratva going to make him do? Is he going to have to work for them again? Surely, they don’t want him. He knows far too much. That’s gotta be dangerous information, and the Bratva would have to take the word of my father that he wouldn’t snitch on them. Or Akim could be lying, and it all be a cruel game to him. He might be letting him out, only to murder him.
You can’t think about that. All you want is him out.
My battered slew of thoughts are interrupted by Ramona. I look up at her with hope in my eyes. “Yes?”
Her expression is dull, a cleaning rag in her hands. “Akim would like to meet with you in the living room. Follow me, please,” she says curtly.
Nervous, I exhale, shoving my hands into the large front pocket of my hoodie. I wasn’t about to wear the stupid dresses, skirts, and luxury wear in the closet that Akim got for me. As if I’m going to put on a fancy dress parade for that man. Ramona’s black polished shoes click over the gray patterned tile of the penthouse hallway as I reach the living room, remembering the exquisite views of the apartment. Oh yes. This is where he brings his prey, wowing them with majestic Chicago views.
Despite the deep repulsion I harbor for Akim, and all he stands for, part of me feels like I’m on some sort of rocky road to tame the beast inside him. I can’t help the fluttering in my chest as he stands before me and Ramona bails. He’s wearing black slacks, the cut of his well-defined thigh muscles cutting through, and a white wifebeater with his raven black hair slicked back. Damn. The man is supremely masculine to his hot, dirty core. His tattoos blend into his muscled arms as if they’ve been etched on him since birth.
His gaze sizzles with a dark magnetism that suffocates, making it just as hard to breathe as the first time I laid eyes on him at the bar.
“Kiara. How’ve you been these days?” he teases in a hoarse whisper regarding me like a stranger, lifting a beer to his mouth, guzzling it down. “Beer to celebrate?”
“What the fuck?” My brow knits together as I gather my wrung-out feelings, drained and horrified by his casual demeanor.
“Celebration. Here. Have a beer.” He lunges forward shoving the cold beer into my hands as I look at the bottle tempted to smash it on the floor. His chocolate eyes are cool with indifference, keeping me in suspense.
“I don’t want a beer, Akim. I want answers about my father. Did you let him out?”
Akim swallows, swiping at his mouth as I stare at the raven sitting on a tree on his right arm. Unfortunately, he catches me staring at it.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she? I got this right after—” He stops short, scoffing, taking a long swig of his beer. Once again, the man is toying with my feelings, if the man is even what portrays himself to be. To me, he’s a deranged monster.
“Right after what?” I accidentally walk into his lair, but wave my hand dismissing it. “I don’t care about your tattoo. I care about my father.”
“Right, right. Your father. Give me a second.” I watch as Akim rounds to the oval glass coffee table, the dazzling night lights of Chicago twinkling behind him and I find myself mesmerized by his powerful, purpose-driven strides. He picks up a white envelope handing it to me. “Here’s your proof. I’ve got him out on bail as you requested. The case itself will be resolved shortly. It just must go through the necessary protocols first. Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of weeks.”
Tearing open the letter with my heart on fire, I skim over its contents, checking it for authenticity and holding it up to the light. “Is this a legitimate letter?” I reply in accusation, fearing it’s one of Akim’s sick games.
“Yes. It’s an official letter. I have no reason to lie to you,” he responds with a loaded smile.
“Yes, you do.”
“No. I don’t. It’s your own life you put in jeopardy. You Janes have a set of balls on you. I will give you that.” Akim laughs, draining the last of his beer, seeming happier than he should.
“I get it from my father,” I mutter, wanting to call him, but when I tried to call Asher back, I found all my outgoing calls had been cancelled. I knew Akim letting me use my phone was a farce.
“Good. It’s a good skill to have, but you have to know how far to take it. Otherwise, it can get you in trouble,” he warns, settling his bottle on the table. I stare at the beer in my hand, putting it down.
“What now?”
“You tell me. Are you going to stop the online transaction? How much time do I have?” I stare at his chest resisting the pull of attraction towards him. It’s subtle and it’s scary.
Apprehensively, I pull the sleeves of my hoodie down. “I guess I’m the liar. There’s never been any online transaction. Akim laughs, shaking his head.
“A very good one. Of course, I knew that already.”
A sharp pain hits my gut as I stare at him flabbergasted by his reaction. “Then why did you help me?”
Akim lets out a weary sigh. “I’ve got valid reasons for the choice I made. I spoke to your father and told him what I was going to do.”
“You spoke to my father?” I pucker up my lips, not wanting to cry.
“Yes. He might not have been the happiest when I told him what I had planned next.”
I don’t have the experience with a man of his caliber, nor the strange world of power and treachery he operates in. Once more, I’m trapped, and now I wish I thought the entire plan through to the end.
“What are you going to do next?” I ask, flicking my nails as Akim’s eyes drill into me and he drags his fingers over his mouth.
“We don’t have to discuss the details now. I’ll reveal it all soon enough. I promised to get your father out of jail first, so let’s work together on that.”
Livid about him keeping me in the dark, I speak up. “No. You don’t get to keep doing that.”
“What am I doing?” he drawls, his hands spanning the back of the couch, his tight chest muscles stretching beneath his wifebeater, driving me a little more insane than I need to be. I notice the start of dark ink at the top of it, finding myself speculating what lies beneath.
Wanting to touch… to run my fingers down. Jesus. I’m no better than the man before me.
“Eyes up, Kiara. Or would you prefer I took my shirt off, so you can take a closer look,” he asks, grinning and calling my bluff as he leans forward, clasping his hands together. “For you… I’ll do it.”
Infuriated, but aroused by his request, I lie. “Eww. Shut up. I don’t want any piece of you.” I sound like an infant throwing my toys out of my crib. And the gross part is what I’m saying contradicts every neuron firing inside my turned-on body.
“Tell that to your eyes. They’re all over me,” he replies boldly, a charming smile eclipsing his mouth. “Not that I mind. I think you’re going to enjoy the arrangement once you find out what it is. It’s likely to benefit us both. You’ll be able to see my chest any day of the week.”
Annoyed with his dancing around the subject, I pick up the beer as Akim hands me a bottle opener from his key ring. Popping the top, I take a swallow, cooling off. “Then tell me what the arrangement is, and we get the ball rolling. We can both get on with our lives. I promise you; my father won’t tell your silly secrets.”
Akim chuckles. “Is that what you think this is about?” I have to admit the cold beer feels good going down, but I’m not 100 percent comfortable with Akim for a myriad of reasons. I shouldn’t be drinking a beer he’s given me, but this merry-go-round conversation is giving me head spins. Plus, I want something to do with my hands. Might as well drink.
“I don’t care what it’s about.”
“Michael Jane isn’t going to say a goddamn word…. Michael’s negligence has caused the Bratva a huge loss and made me look like a fool in front of the Pakhan. I entrusted him to do a specific job, and he failed. Paid him well too.” He gestures in my direction. “You might hate me, darling, but the Bratva has been paying both your ways for a long time. Michael owes me.” Akim pauses, the weight of his words sinking in and my heart sinking to the marble floor. He’s not going to let me go, is he? Drinking again, the sad truth hits as I wait for him to reveal his plans.
“Does that mean you’re going to make him work it off?” I ask in a counter move, wanting to plant a seed, but the shine in Akim’s pupils is too hedonistic for it to be that simple a solution.
“No. No. I’ve decided I’m going to take you as compensation. Almost like what we in the Bratva would call a peace treaty.”
“Fucking no way!” I jump up, the beer’s contents frothing over the neck of the bottle as Akim stands with me, taking it and stopping it from dropping.
“Oh, yes way.”
“Hold on. What do you mean you decided to take me? You can’t keep me here against my will like your prisoner!” I shout, panic filling me.
“Easy. That’s not what I’m proposing. You can come and go as you please.”
“What the hell are you talking about, then?” I yell irately.
Akim’s eyes darken, the froth spilling over his hand as he holds the beer bottle. “What I mean is, you’ll be able to come and go as my wife. Mrs. Utkin.”
Waves of nausea overcome me. The air is hot, and I can’t breathe. “Did you… did you say what I think you said? Are you talking about marriage?” I ask, my head woozy.
Akim looks me straight in the eye with a half-cocked smile. “Yes. I mean I’ve decided to marry you.”
Chapter Thirteen - Akim
One day earlier.
“You forget to protect the queen on the board, dummy. Every time I have to remind you, and every time you end up in a checkmate position. You’re making the game too easy for me,” Boris scolds Luka as we sit in the games room playing chess. My father taught me to play the game to teach me a thing or two about strategic and nimble movement in the Bratva world, and it worked.
“Play your weakest hand first and get all your pawns out on the board early. But, whatever you do, protect the queen. She’s your greatest asset. Remember this when you marry, Akim. I chose correctly when I married your mother. I have no regrets. She brought me an heir to the Bratva throne.” I would have been close to ten years old when my father gave me his lectures, playing the game, and I’ve been a keen learner of the game ever since.
Boris and Luka are casual players, but Luka, too, was taught the same way I was. “Don’t worry about what I’m doing with my chess pieces. You worry about yours.” Boris hits the timer, pointing to the checkered board. “Your turn.” I’m to play whoever wins this match, but I’m preoccupied with other things floating around my head. Like what we’re going to do once we bail Michael Jane out of jail.
As I watch the game, Boris speaks. “How is your pretty prisoner doing at the penthouse?”
“She’s holding up. Feisty thing,” I mention.
“Thought as much. She has no respect for the Bratva.”
“Why should she? We pinned her father to the wall,” I say in a muted tone.
“It was your idea. What… you regretting it now?” Luka asks, taking his turn.
“No. It was right.” That was before I knew about his daughter. If I did, I would make different choices. I keep the sordid thought in my head.
“Have you decided what to do about Michael Jane?” Boris presses, his arms crossed in wait of his turn.
Sighing, I keep running through the idea I have. It might be risky from my end, but at thirty-nine years old, it’s expected of me anyway. From what I’ve seen about Kiara, the arrangement I’m tossing around in my head would work in the long term.
She won’t be able to resist the lifestyle, the money, and the power I can bring to her. Let alone the endless resources. A small price to pay for the losses we’ve incurred at the hands of her father. Computer science major or not, I can take her to heights she’ll never be able to make on her own. And there’s the open attraction she denies herself and me. I want her in my bed. Every night. And I’m going to have her.
“I tell you what, Kiara has a set of legs on her that give me wet dreams of wrapping them around my back,” Luka casually mentions as Boris sighs and holds me back from the reflex of punching Luka in the face.
A firestorm rages through my body. How dare he talk about her body. Whether anybody knows it or not, Kiara is fucking mine, and my brother won’t touch a fucking hair on her head if I have anything to do with it. Subtly, I knock his pawn over and move other chess pieces onto his end of the board. Shocked, Luka’s eyes fly up.
Boris chuckles, shaking his head as my brother flicks me a perplexed stare, still not understanding my motives.
“Luka, I think you might want a clamp for your big mouth. Akim is sweet on the young woman. You should have seen him at the bar when she first duped him. Ana Benito. Is that what she called herself?”
In a reflex reaction, I slap Boris on the back of the head instead. “I should bang the two of your heads together,” I warn. “If staff would have been doing their job that night, they would have realized she gave them a fake ID. She’s smart.”
Boris rubs the back of his head. “Ouch. That hurt.”
Luka repositions his pieces, mumbling under his breath. “You fucked up my board.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the board. And, Luka, you’re not going to wrap anything around anything other than you lips around the muzzle of my gun as I shove It down your throat,” I propose smoothly, exchanging seething glances with them both.
“Alright. Well, that settles things. But she did get past us all. She’s good,” Boris remarks with admiration, the fire inside me settling. Kiara provokes reactions in me that I’ve never felt before, and it’s unnerving.
Luka gives me a sidelong glance, regrouping and making his next winning move and last attack.
“This game is too easy. Checkmate,” he says cheerfully to Boris, raising an eyebrow in my direction. “Boris is right. Judging from your reaction, my brother is sweet on the villainess. And you can get mad all you want about what I said, but the real question is, what’s your plan? This Michael situation is a fucking problem, and you know it.”
I’m bewitched by Kiara, and there’s no rhyme or reason. What she presented is not what she is, but still, I find myself wanting to claim her. I brought her those hideous hoodies and sweatpants which do nothing for her svelte, toned figure, but given her hobby of being a hacker, it maybe fits her weird aesthetic.
She’s not exactly a woman to take home, but my mother probably would have loved her. She wasn’t one to suffer fools, even if she did spoil me with love all the time. Kiara should enjoy her leisure wear now because I refuse to let her wear them in the future. I’ve already lined up the right boutiques for her to shop. She’ll get used to her new attire whether she likes it or not.
Luka’s ignorant comments infuriate me, but I know how to shut him down. It baffles me as to why am I so protective over her in the first place.
“Yes. I’m aware. How about we play eight ball? I’m getting sick of watching you get beaten, Boris, and Luka. I’ve already buried you three to one in chess. We can discuss Michael while I whip you.”
“Alright, brother, but don’t cry like a baby when I beat you on the pool table.” Luka grins as I shove him in the direction. Luka possesses a competitive streak, even if it is at the snooker table, and I know that.
He’s my younger brother, and sibling rivalry is an all-time high between us. We both grew up under the harsh dominion of our father, but we’ve both tackled it in different ways coming out on top. Personally, on the surface I’ve thrived, burying the past hurts of losing my mother. For Luka, I paved the way. Father went easier on him, but as a result, I’m harder on him to level the score, and he works for me, not the other way around.
“You won’t. I can promise you,” I tell him. “Yes to Michael paying us back. I don’t think he has the means to. We can’t send him back out on route. That would be Bratva suicide. We’ve lost time and weapons. Not to mention now we have the Pakhan up our asses,” I tell them both, sliding all the balls into the triangle and putting them in the right order.
“Exactly. And the last thing we want is the Pakhan breathing down our necks scrutinizing our every move when we worked so hard to cement this international agreement,” Boris remarks, chalking up his pool cue.
“He won’t be for long,” I reply, letting little brother break, as two balls shoot off in different directions. “Okay. I’ve got smalls,” he commands smugly, off to a good start, but I know as well as he does, that he fades at the end of the game. “We can get Michael out, sure, but you do understand the cost?”
“Yes. I understand the cost.” Crouching to eye level, I focus on my target, driving my pool cue forward, the click of my ball knocking my brother’s out of the way and putting it into the top right-hand pocket.
“Good. Michael got complacent and wasn’t careful enough with his runs. Honestly, it’s a shame we had to throw him under the bus. He’s been working for us without a hitch for years now. Bound to happen at some stage, and it might not have been him directly, but one of his staff leaked the information to the police,” Luka mentions, and I can’t ignore the truth he’s spilling.
“Yes. And you’re not wrong,” I respond, but regardless, I plan on getting him out of jail. I’ve got plans for his daughter. Kiara triggered a part of me I’ve long forgotten, and her ability to put her life on the line for her father will be perfect for what I have lined up for her.
“How are we going to make him pay it back? His business will tank if we try to take it from him. We won’t be able to extract it from him that way, like you said,” Boris stresses, as I still myself, preparing for my next shot and pocketing it with a winning grin, not worried about his concerns. I address Luka instead, warming up to my plan at large.
“Little brother, you’ve got your work cut out for you,” I tell him, punching him on the shoulder.
“Maybe. We’ll see.” He grins back. “But let’s talk about the rules.” He nods, the tone of the conversation turning serious.
“Yes. The Bratva rules,” I quip. “What about them?” I ask, hitting the side of the ball, watching it jump up on the table.
“Well, if he doesn’t pay. We take his assets. We know he lives with Kiara in a nice part of town, but that townhouse isn’t going to cover what he owes us by a long shot. What else does he have?” Luka asks.
“Hmm. Probably a vehicle,” I say flippantly, because the proposal I have in mind is one my dear brother hasn’t thought of. Kiara’s a commodity that will bring more to the Bratva network than they think.
“You’re not taking this seriously,” Luka adds.
“Yes I am. But there’s a reason I’m the boss.” I power play as my brother misses the next ball and I play my shot.
“Well, if we let him out, we take his life. We can get enough money back on the black market. That’s the rule. So, what’s the point of getting him out when all we plan to do is kill him?” Luka presents.
“Yeah, and the Pakhan will order the hit, and we’re going to have to provide proof,” Boris concludes as I grin at them both, observing their stumped faces.
“Perfect. I’ll just take his daughter as repayment. She can help me expand the Bratva empire. She has many uses, including bringing children into the world, adding to the Utkin bloodline. The Pakhan won’t be able to resist.”
“You cunning devil. You and your possessions, Akim,” Luka says, but with a smile of approval lined on his face. “Congrats.”
“Thanks. It’s the perfect arrangement for all involved. Let’s get Michael Jane out of jail as soon as we can.”
Winking, I go on to pocket the next three balls and beat my brother like I always do.