3. Rik
RIK
Y ou’d think I’d be used to ostentatious décor.
After all, in my country we hang chandeliers in the subway stations and decorate them to look like rooms in a Baroque castle.
But the Grand Hotel’s pretentiousness on display overwhelms even me.
The senator has created a monument to excess this evening.
The shiny marble underfoot, the sparkling chandeliers, the gilded trays. Every surface glows, but none so bright as Perl Gahr.
I’ve watched her all night. She’s been my focus since I first stepped into this golden circus.
It took her a while to notice me, but when she did, I’m absolutely sure she liked it.
Her dark brown eyes widened, and I could see her squirm as she took in my appreciative gaze.
But then she looked away and avoided me for the rest of the evening.
I can’t tell if it’s because I scare her, or if she’s inexperienced with men.
It doesn’t really matter. She’ll be mine either way. But I’m curious.
Her uncle walks up to her and puts his arm around her. Perl takes half a step back, wrapped in that perfect black silk, pretending not to notice the way his hand lands on her shoulder, heavy and possessive.
I have to grit my teeth not to wrench his arm away from her body.
I don’t understand my reaction to this young woman. But as soon as I laid eyes on her, something clicked deep inside my chest. Something that whispered, mine .
And I always get what I want, even if my desire to possess the object or person doesn’t last long.
“Rurik Kedrov,” the senator says, his voice thick with self-importance.
He offers me up like a reward. “Our newest donor and patron. Meet my lovely family, Monica, my wife, and my niece, Perl. I might be the face of the campaign, but these two are the strong women behind the man.” He gurgles a fake laugh.
In my line of work, words rarely ring true. I’m a master at looking for hidden meanings, sometimes outright lies. I interpret body language down to the smallest quirk of lips. And so I see the tiny flinch of Perl’s shoulders at her uncle’s words.
All night, I’ve watched the cracks forming in her composure. The glances she threw her aunt and uncle’s way. How her jaw set and her hand twitched when the senator corrected her, always polite, always a little cruel.
I saw it all. I still see it.
The strain, the resentment, the way she collects herself before she speaks. Her smile is warm and beguiling, but her eyes are stormy and defiant.
I’m drawn to her, pulled in by her courage, her desperation, and something that feels like hunger lurking below her polished mask.
And here’s the senator now, ready to trade favors like chips at a poker table to add to his campaign coffers and enhance his power.
I stand easy, giving the three people in front of me a show of casual interest. No jacket, no tie, just a crisp black shirt.
Despite the AC, the ballroom is warm from the throng of glitzy people, and I’ve rolled up the sleeves of my shirt enough to suggest I do my own dirty work.
The tattoos marking me as part of the brotherhood, the Bratva, are on display, just enough for people to wonder and gossip.
The senator’s wife pretends not to notice, but Perl sees my ink, her gaze restless. In her eyes, curiosity battles fear.
The older woman’s smile never wavers. “Mr. Kedrov, it’s an honor.” Her voice is a bland politeness, but her gaze roves the length of my body in blatant sexual interest.
The senator frowns and sucks in his gut.
I pretend not to notice his wife’s appreciation. “Likewise, Mrs. Gahr.”
“I detect an accent, where are you from?” she purrs.
“I grew up in England and Russia.” It sounds like I have an upper-class background, which is far from the truth.
I was born in Hastings, where I went to school until the age of twelve.
My true education happened on the streets of Moscow after my asshole father threw us out and my mom returned to Russia and the support of her family.
I lean toward Perl and address only her, low and deliberate. “The senator speaks highly of you. Seems to me the you’re more than a person in the background, the power in the room tilts toward you when you speak to the guests.”
Her brows arch, surprise flickering in the heat behind her eyes. “If the room tilts, it’s probably the fault of the champagne.” She laughs nervously, sliding a glance at her uncle, whose lips are set in a hard line.
The senator laughs, but it’s for show. “Perl manages the details of fundraising events. Monica and I, we foster an environment of responsibility in our family.”
Of course they do. Responsibility, another word for leash. I’m well acquainted with the concept. It’s how the old Pakhan , the Bratva boss, ruled the brotherhood back in Moscow.
But if you keep a monster in captivity too long, it will eventually slash that leash.
Which is what I did, as well as the man holding the leash.
Mrs. Gahr’s smile shines brittle as glass. “We’re very proud of our niece.”
I watch Perl’s hands clench into fists as she steps out of her uncle’s grasp, knuckles white, a minor rebellion in a world where bravery could cost everything.
I approve and take a sip of my champagne to hide the smirk on my lips. “Senator Gahr,” I say, “I appreciate the invitation to back your campaign. If there’s anything I admire, it’s a family who value loyalty and integrity.”
Mrs. Gahr’s voice is soft, yet somehow sharp enough to slice skin. “You’ll find we nurture loyalty above all else.” There’s a current running beneath her words as she slants Perl a glance. Watch, comply, pay what you owe.
I sharpen my smile. “Loyalty is expensive. Good leaders know how to reward, as well as collect.”
Perl’s gaze darts away, mouth set.
I want to see her break her chains.
I want to strip away the obedience and teach her loyalty demanded is never as sweet as loyalty earned.
The senator smiles my way. “Rurik is an entrepreneur. He runs several operations in Europe in the areas of logistics, hospitality, construction. Now expanding here.” He values money and influence the most. The same things every man in his position wants.
I haven’t given him permission to use my first name, but decide to let that rude liberty slip, for now.
Mrs. Gahr’s eyes flick, measuring.
Perl’s gaze is sharp, too. She takes stock of me, catalogues what I am, or what I appear to be. There's a question in her glance. Why am I so focused on her?
I let her see a shadow of an answer in my eyes, enough to keep her cautious.
“That’s right,” I say easily. “My team is looking to expand our operations here.” And what better opportunity than to take advantage of the loopholes in political fundraising?
I plan to launder sizeable sums of money while gaining political favors, creating a win-win for me.
For the senator, not so much.
He’ll soon know what it’s like when someone demands total obedience. Someone with a lot more power than he. Someone who will put a tight collar connected to a short leash around his neck.
Monica gives a tight smile. “You and my husband seem to have ambition and vision in common.”
The senator beams, basking in praise he thinks is aimed at him. “We need more people willing to invest in the city.”
Monica adjust her posture, leaning a little forward to offer me a better view of her cleavage.
Perl smirks, but covers it up behind a small cough. She thinks no one noticed.
She’s wrong. I notice everything about her.
The music shifts, slow tunes threading among the crystal clinks of the champagne flutes. I decide to test the boundaries. “Politics, business, they go hand in hand. I find partnerships are most fruitful when everyone can trust the rules.”
Mrs. Gahr nods, as if she’s reassuring herself I am just like the other rich donors in the room.
“We’re grateful for partnerships, Mr. Kedrov.
As you know, the focus of the campaign is a to provide a prosperous future of the city and its people.
That’s why family and loyalty are so important to us. ”
Her words aren’t for me, but for Perl. A reminder of the chains twisted around her. I glance at Perl, letting her see I understand more than I say. Turning, I aim cold eyes at Mrs. Gahr. “They are very important to me, as well. As is respect.”
The senator clears his throat. “Perl’s experience with fundraising is second only to Monica’s.
The two of them are expert event organizers and decorators.
” He’s taken notice of his wife’s interest and now wants to sell me on the niece.
He doesn’t have to. She’s already mine, as all three of them will soon know.
Perl’s smile is thin. “I’m so glad you noticed, Uncle. Sometimes I feel as if all my hard work is never appreciated.”
I smile at her, letting my girl know I notice her defiance and approve.
The senator frowns at her words, but then turns to me eagerly. “We’re so pleased to welcome you to our circle, Rurik. And grateful for your generosity. With your backing, we have a real shot in the upcoming election. Of course, let’s not forget the importance of discretion?—"
He drones on, and I tune him out. There is only one person I want to focus on tonight. Perl.
She glances away, chewing words she won’t say. I wonder if she knows what her uncle will trade for my money. Her presence, her obedience. More.
I interrupt the senator’s monologue. “I demand discretion from anyone I work with. It’s a necessary skill for surviving in my world.”
Mrs. Gahr’s attention sharpens, catching my hidden meaning.
Actually, it’s not very hidden, but the Senator is not smart enough to notice that I just threatened his life.
Perl watches with a tilt of her head. I can’t tell if she wants to run away or move closer to me.
I want her naked in my bed, succumbing to me in every way.
But I also want her to choose me, even if she doesn’t know why yet.