Chapter 34 #2
I gulp, and that shuts me up for the rest of the short drive. Silences freak me out. Especially ones accompanied by a blank stare. My palms are slick with sweat, and I breathe in deeply.
Not fucking now, you idiot.
By the time he pulls up outside the Belgravia house, my stomach is in knots.
The place still looks less like a home and more like a polished threat.
Guards stand by the entrance in dark suits, giving nothing away.
Lev gets out, comes around to my side, and opens the door before I can touch the handle.
I step out into the heat, straighten my shoulders, and look down at myself. I’m wearing jeans, a black shirt and trainers. Jesus. I should have changed into something more appropriate. I’m going to tank this because of my sartorial choices.
“Last chance to back out,” he murmurs.
I look him in the eye. “No.”
His expression tightens, but he nods once and guides me toward the front door, respecting me enough to let me do this. Or maybe he just thinks Baron will say no, and that will be the end of it, and he gets his own way.
Inside the house, the air is cool, quiet and heavy. A member of staff appears almost instantly, nods to Lev, and motions us down the same hallway as last time. Baron’s study waits at the end of it like a test I haven’t revised for.
The door opens before I can decide whether to breathe or pass out.
Baron is behind the desk again, glasses low on his nose, a file open in front of him. He looks up once, takes me in, then glances at Lev. “You brought her in denim?”
I nearly laugh from sheer nerves.
Lev doesn’t. “She insisted on urgency.”
“I insisted on not missing the thirty-minute slot before you flee the country,” I say, because I’m already here, so I may as well die speaking.
Baron’s mouth shifts by a fraction. “Sit down, Varvara.”
I do. My knees feel unstable, but I refuse to show it. Lev stays behind me and slightly to the side, which should be reassuring, except it also feels like he’s preparing to haul me out by the scruff if this goes sideways.
Baron closes the file. “Lev tells me this is business-related. Speak.”
My breath wobbles as I inhale.
“I want work,” I say. “Not charity. Not a little hobby shop to keep me occupied. Actual work.”
His gaze sharpens. “In my organisation.”
“Yes.”
Lev makes a low sound under his breath, and I ignore him.
Baron takes his glasses off. “Why?”
“Because I can.”
His eyebrow goes up slightly.
“Because you told me to wear the Voronov name with pride, and there is nothing proud about sitting at home polishing the knobs… doorknobs,” I correct quickly as Lev makes a noise like he wants to die.
“I know you probably have an assistant you trust already, but I can be their assistant. Or I can be your brew bitch. Vodka bitch. Whatever. I want to work directly for you, learn from you, absorb what I can, so I understand this world. I am in a position where I need to play catch-up, and who better to learn about the family business than from the family patriarch?”
Baron says nothing.
I’m not even sure he breathes.
I don’t believe Lev adequately warned me about the silence.
It ticks on and nearly kills me.
Unfortunately, Lev knows me too well, and I ramble on just to break the silence.
“I know I’m not trained. I know I haven’t grown up in this world.
But I’m not stupid, and I’m not fragile.
I can organise. I can manage people when they’re being difficult.
I can keep my mouth shut. I can follow instructions.
I can take notes, manage schedules, deal with calls, and handle practical things that waste your time.
If you want someone invisible until needed, I can do that. ”
Lev shifts behind me, primed and ready to pounce.
Baron studies me with those pale, merciless eyes. “And why would I place you near anything sensitive?”
“Because I’m already sensitive,” I reply before I can stop myself, and then curse myself to the flaming depths. “Not emotionally, of course. Operationally.”
Lev mutters, “Jesus Christ.”
I keep my eyes on Baron. His stare holds on me for so long that I start to feel every heartbeat in my throat.
Then he says, “Operationally.”
I nod once because if I speak again too fast, I’ll make it worse.
His gaze shifts to Lev. “Is she always like this?”
“Unfortunately,” Lev says.
“I’m right here,” I mutter.
“I’m aware,” Baron replies, looking back at me. “That is part of the problem.”
My stomach drops.
He steeples his fingers on the desk. “You want proximity to power without understanding what that proximity does to a person. You think being useful will settle something in you. It won’t. It will wake it up.”
I swallow. “Maybe it already is awake and is idling at the kerb ready to roar down the motorway.”
That gets me another long look. Cold. Careful. Assessing. Probably wondering what the fuck I’m talking about, but the Ferrari jumped into my mind, and the analogy just tumbled out like word vomit.
I loathe myself.
“I don’t employ people because they need purpose,” he says. “I employ them because they serve one. So tell me, Varvara. What purpose do you serve?”
The honest answer comes out before I can polish it. “Right now? I’m Lev’s problem.”
Lev lets out a rough breath behind me.
Baron’s expression doesn’t change, but I can feel the room tilt slightly in my favour. “Continue.”
“I’m also a liability if I stay idle in Lev’s house, visible and connected to him, but untrained, uninformed and frustrated. That’s dangerous. For me. Possibly for him. If I know more, if I can do more, then I’m less likely to become dead weight or a weakness someone can exploit.”
Baron watches me without blinking.
I force myself to keep going before my courage packs a bag and leaves without me.
“I’m not asking to be handed secrets from Moscow….”
His eyes flash dangerously, and I think Lev whimpers.
“… I’m asking to learn a place. Next to you.”
“And if what you learn disgusts you?” he asks.
I lift one shoulder. “Then I’ll be disgusted while being useful.”
A rough sound comes from Lev. It could be amusement. It could be pain.
Baron shifts back in his chair. “You think honesty will impress me.”
“No. I think bullshit will annoy you.”
That earns me another long silence.
They are a weapon all on their own.
Don’t offer to launder money for a cartel… don’t offer to launder money for a cartel…
Dammit, Lev. It’s all I can think about.
He turns his head slightly. “Lev.”
“Pakhan.”
“Did you coach her?”
“No.”
“Pity. She might have made a better case.”
I close my eyes for half a second and wish the floor would crack open and save me from this hell.
Lev breathes in quietly and lets it out. “Maybe. But this is her case. What good is it giving her material and a presence that you will see straight through?”
Baron ignores him and says, “You want work? You will have work.”
My pulse stumbles. “Thank you—”
He picks up a pen and taps it once against the closed file. “Do not mistake this for generosity. This is an experiment, and I dislike failed experiments.”
Lev steps forward. “Uncle, with respect—”
“No.” Baron doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. The word lands like a bullet. “You brought her into this family. You marked her. You made her visible. Now she either grows into the name or becomes a constant drain on your attention. I prefer utility.”
I should probably be offended by being discussed like a dodgy appliance, but relief is already trying to punch through my ribs.
“I’ll do it,” I say quickly. “Whatever it is.”
Baron’s gaze cuts back to me. “Do not volunteer before hearing terms. It makes you sound stupid.”
Right. Good start, Var.
He slides open a drawer and takes out a slim black notebook. “You will not be my assistant.”
The relief wobbles.
“You will shadow my chief of staff for two weeks. You will answer to her, not to Lev, and certainly not to your own impulses. You will observe, carry out basic tasks, keep your ears open, and your mouth shut unless spoken to. You will learn names, timings, routines, procedures and how not to embarrass this family.”
I nod fast. “I can do that.”
“You can try.” He writes something in the notebook, tears out a page, and places it on the desk in front of me. “Her name is Yelena Markova. She will decide by the end of the fortnight whether you are trainable or decorative.”
My face heats. “Decorative?”
Baron glances at Lev. “That seems to be the current concern.”
Lev sounds murderous. “I did not say she was decorative.”
“You don’t want her here.”
“I want her safe.”
“Where would she be safer than with me?”
“You aren’t going to be here,” Lev points out, and I mentally roll my eyes.
Of course not. That’s why he is giving me this chance. He won’t be around to see me either excel or fuck up.
Baron looks at him as if this conversation bores him.
I reach for the page before Lev can object again. My fingers brush thick paper. A name. A number.
“When do I start?” I ask.
“Tomorrow. Eight sharp. Here.” Baron puts his glasses back on and opens the file again, which feels a lot like being dismissed by royalty. “If you are late, don’t come at all.”
“Understood.”
“Dress better.”
I look down at my jeans and nearly bristle, but I catch myself in time. “I will.”
“Do not ask questions you are not entitled to ask. Do not speak out of turn. Do not use charm as a substitute for competence. It is a poor trade. If Yelena says jump, you ask how high before your feet leave the floor, and you listen. She is not patient.”
That sounds promising in the worst possible way. “Got it.”
“Good. Off you go. I have a plane to catch.”
Lev goes rigid. For one awful second, I think he’s about to tell Baron this is a mistake and drag me out anyway.
Then Baron says, “Don’t start.”
Lev’s jaw sets so hard I can see the muscle jump. “You’re putting her under Yelena.”
“I am.”
“She eats people alive.”
Baron lifts his eyes from the file. “Then your woman will either survive or prove she shouldn’t be here.”
I should probably keep quiet, but my dignity is already on life support. “I’m still in the room.”
“Yes,” Baron says. “And tomorrow you’ll learn why that matters less than competence.”
I get to my feet before I can say something else stupid. “Thank you for the opportunity.”
His gaze drops to the paper in my hand. “Don’t thank me yet.”
Lev puts a hand on my back, and I can feel the anger pouring off him, controlled so tightly it almost hums. “We’re leaving.”
“Obviously,” Baron says, already reading again.
That’s it. Audience over. Trial concluded. Sentence pending.
Lev steers me out of the study and down the hallway at a pace that says he’s one breath away from kicking through a wall.