38. Kaz
I’m losingmy fucking mind. How hard is it to find a woman on the run who doesn’t have anyone’s help? Apparently, it’s fucking impossible when that woman is Caelia, and she doesn’t want to be found. I should have told her the truth. I had countless occasions to do so. She’s on the run, and I could have prevented this. I’m healing painfully slowly. There’s no one I can trust. My home doesn’t feel like what it used to be. It’s just an empty mansion, but now I’m sitting on a black leather couch in a private room of one of my clubs, a glass of whiskey in my hands. The lights are too dim, the music is too loud, and there is a chaotic atmosphere all around me. The walls are painted a deep red, and through the one-way mirror glass, I can see people dancing on the floor below, lost in the rhythm.
“Deal with the cartel problem,” I tell Dmitri now that the Irish are gone. “Kill all the men that have been working closely with my uncle. I’ll fly back to New York tomorrow morning.”
A woman does a pool dance in front of me. She moves with a trained grace that I would have found captivating and seductive a while ago. Her long blonde hair is pulled back into a bun, and her curves are accentuated by a tight black dress. The Irish were captivated by her sensual and powerful moves. They love Russian pussy. They watched her in awe as she moved on to the music, her body swaying like a wave in the ocean. I have been asked if she’s for rent. But that decision is hers, not mine. I use my clubs for money laundry, not for escort services. However, I don’t prevent my girls from earning money on the side if they choose to do so. There are other dancers on the floor beneath us. Spinning and twirling, some dancing in pairs, their bodies interlocked.
Talking of spinning, I realize I’ve been turning the wedding ring on my finger. It’s a souvenir I stole from Mattia when I became him, and now I can’t bring myself to remove it.
I might be the only man not captivated by the dancer’s beauty, yet all she has eyes for is me. Her movements become more wild and inviting, her eyes focusing entirely on me. The air is thick. I can almost feel the heat radiating from her body. I bet her pussy would be wet and so tight, stretching around my cock. I bet she would be a most welcome distraction. Her moves stop when the song comes to an end. She’s brave enough to walk toward me, kneeling between my thighs and placing her palms on my knees. I didn’t even want to be here, but I had no choice but to come back home and deal with the mess my uncle had created before it was too late, and Ermanno’s empire wouldn’t be the only one in ashes.
“Что я могу сделать для вас, сэр?” She asks, her voice laced with anticipation.
I contemplate my answer for a second. Is there anything she can do for me? Would this slippery road make me feel any better? Those lips would look good wrapped around my cock. Not as good as Caelia’s, but good enough. I don’t even have to look at her. I could close my eyes and imagine that she was here.
“нет, кукла.”
The look of disappointment makes me grin. Fuck, it’s good to be home. She’s a clever woman. She doesn’t push me any further. I wave my hand dismissively, silently urging her to leave.
“Any luck finding Sevastyan?”
My uncle vanished as soon as I returned home, just like Mattia. My men have been deceived in the same manner as me. Sevastyan moved Mattia from one location to another, and they never questioned it. They had no reason to.
Dmitri enters the room, wearing a somber expression.
“What’s wrong?”
I swish the whiskey around in my glass, awaiting his response.
“Ivan is here to see you, sir.”
“Let him see me, then.”
Surely, he has a compelling reason to visit, knowing that coming here is akin to signing his death warrant. Domenico nods and exits the room.
“Do we know where Caelia is, Dmitri?” I ask, already aware of the answer.
“No, sir.”
I expected as much. Domenico returns a few minutes later, accompanied by my cousin. His hair is messy, there are dark circles under his eyes, and he looks like he slept in his clothes.
“Vanya,” I acknowledge with a nod. “Take a seat.”
His eyes scan the room, assessing potential threats. Reluctantly, he sits on the couch beside me.
“What can I do for you?”
“Cut the crap, Kaz. I know you want to kill me.”
“Want is not exactly accurate. It’s more like need to.” Only if I have to. I took a couple of days to sleep it off and recover. Now I can think clearly again. I can do what my father taught me. I can think of every consequence before I act, something I didn’t do when I killed Ermanno. Vanya’s death will not be like the others for me. It won’t be blood that I can easily wash off my hands. We grew up together. “If you know that I’m planning to kill you, why are you here?”
“Because I’m loyal to you. I’m here to prove it.”
The puzzle pieces begin to fit together. Sevastyan killed my father to assume his position—an ingenious plan that succeeded until I claimed what rightfully belonged to me, a truth he couldn’t deny. So he concocted a scheme to eliminate me, setting me on a path of revenge against a man who never harmed my father. A man I killed, causing my brother to turn against me. He attempted to take me out by involving a cartel. This is not how I would have orchestrated it. I would have put a bullet between his eyes and been done with it. But he cannot afford the war that would follow my death. He’s resourceful, but it won’t be enough.
“There’s only one way for you to prove your loyalty, Vanya.”
“I know,” he replies, taking a deep breath. “You want my father dead, and I’ll kill him for you.”
I narrow my eyes. Family doesn’t mean much to me right now, not after everything that happened.
“You’re going to kill your father?”
“I am. I’ll tell you everything I know. And let me start by saying that you have a target on your back, Kaz. There’s a contract with your name on it. You need to go into lockdown.” A hitman does not frighten me. It’s no worse than the family that put out the contract. “And you have an even bigger problem.”
“What might that be?”
“He let Mattia go. He’s on his way to New York, and he’s after Caelia.”
“He won’t find her. She’s gone into hiding. I’ve been searching for her since she ran away.”
“He will,” he states, swallowing hard. “My father had someone watching her since the moment you arrived there. He followed in her footsteps and trailed her the night she escaped. He’ll find her, Kaz.”
He produces something from his pocket—a photograph of a woman who would be difficult to recognize if her image weren’t burned into my memory. Her hair is shorter now, reaching her shoulders, and it’s a deep, raven black. She wears a pair of fake glasses. The picture was taken at a bus station. My heart stops, refusing to beat again until she is safely by my side.
“Prepare the plane, Dmitri. And you,” I turn toward Vanya, “you’re coming with me. If you want a place in this family, you’ll help me bring her back.”
“It will end in blood.”
“It will end in blood.” I echo our family’s motto.