Innocently Imprisoned by the Bratva (Zolotov Bratva #6)
Chapter 1 - Lev
I pull up to Lenny's house, my thoughts racing with the problems we’ve been facing in our revenue management system. We need some play money on the side, revenue generated under the table—off the books—to pump into our underground gambling business for loans and payouts.
But, in all the revenue streams Lenny’s been deployed at, we’ve been seeing less cash flow in black while the white remains consistent with projections.
It simply makes no sense.
I knock on the door, impatience mounting as seconds tick by with no response. Typical Lenny, entitled beyond belief to make a Zolotov wait when he knows I’ll be coming around. With a dismissive huff, I try the door, half-expecting it to be locked. To my surprise, it isn't.
"Idiot," I mutter under my breath, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. With every intention of marching straight into Lenny's office, I stop in my tracks when his voice drifts from the living room to my right.
"Make sure everything is transferred to the offshore account in the Cayman Islands," Lenny says, desperation seeping through his words. “Before they come for my accounts in the UK.”
What money would he want to put in an offshore account? Unless it’s money he doesn’t want traced back to him. Suddenly, the low cash receipts over the past six months begin to make sense. My anger simmers, preparing to erupt.
Embezzling from the Zolotov family? I think. Bad move, old man.
I remain rooted in the hallway, eavesdropping on the conversation unfolding on speakerphone. If there's one thing I've learned growing up in the Bratva, it's how to gather information. And right now, this is just what I need to bring Lenny down for good.
"Are you certain no one will trace it back to me?" Lenny questions the person on the other end of the speakerphone, clearly nervous from the way his voice cracks.
"Positive. The money will be untraceable," the voice replies, sounding all too smug for my liking.
"Good," Lenny says, letting out a shaky breath. "I don't want the Zolotovs anywhere near this."
Too late for that, I think, gritting my teeth and balling my fists at my sides. I have all the evidence I need.
My patience snaps, and I burst into the living room, eyes blazing with fury. "You really thought you could steal from my family and get away with it, Lenny?" My voice drips with menace, making him jump and hastily cut off the call without even a goodbye.
"Lev…" Lenny stammers, looking like a cornered rat. "I… I think you misunderstood.”
"Cut the bullshit," I snarl, taking a step closer. "I overheard everything. You're embezzling from the Zolotovs, and you think you can just waltz away with our money? Think again."
"Listen," he says, letting out a nervous laugh in a feeble attempt to mask his fear. "I have nothing to lose, Lev. You know you need me in your work, and I… I think that money was well-deserved." His gaze flickers around the room, probably searching for an escape route. It only serves to infuriate me further.
"Nothing to lose?" I echo mockingly, stepping even closer so that we're nearly nose-to-nose. The urge to wrap my hands around his throat is almost overwhelming, but I hold back, clenching my jaw instead. "Are you sure that this was the best way to go about getting a raise, Lenny?"
"Listen," he stutters, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "If you could just think calmly. Think of all that I’ve done for you."
"Really?" I retort, raising a single eyebrow. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're shaking in your boots."
"Y-you don't understand, Lev," he pleads, desperation creeping into his voice. "I did what I had to do."
"Stealing from us was not what you had to do,'" I say, my voice cold as ice. "And if you don't return the money, I swear to God, Lenny, I will make you wish you'd never been born. In fact, I’ll kill you with my bare hands myself."
“I don’t think you’d want to kill me, Lev,” he laughs nervously, his eyes darting around.
Just as I'm about to let loose a torrent of threats with exactly why I would kill him and how I plan to do so, something catches my eye through the window. A young brunette walks up to the house in jeans and a large sweatshirt, a sling bag crossed across her voluptuous figure, her purposeful, fast paced stride intriguing me. She looks like she’s got places to be, things to do. And she seems to be heading right this way. My anger simmers as I watch her, momentarily distracted from Lenny's pathetic attempts at self-preservation.
My mind races, connecting the dots. I know Lenny has a daughter named Lilah, and this girl could very well be her. She looks around the same age. Eighteen. An idea forms in my head, desperate and risky, but it might just be the key to getting our money back. I glance at Lenny, who is still watching me warily, oblivious to the potential salvation strutting toward his front door.
I keep my gaze fixed on the girl outside, watching as she approaches the front door. She seems innocent, unaware of the storm brewing inside her home. But then again, I remind myself that life isn't fair. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
The sound of the front door opening reaches my ears, and I can't help but smile. The timing couldn't be more perfect. "You know what, Lenny?" I say, my voice taking on a sinister edge. "I've changed my mind about killing you. Instead, I'll take your daughter as payment until every last cent is returned."
Lenny's face pales, his eyes widening in horror. "No, Lev, you can't!" he protests weakly, but I've already made up my mind.
"Watch me," I reply coldly, turning my back on him as I notice the girl in the hallway. Her eyes meet mine for a split second before she looks away, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink, like she’s embarrassed I saw her or something. She has no idea how drastically her life is about to change.
With purposeful, determined strides, I close the distance between us. Her eyes widen as I reach out, gripping her arm firmly but not aggressively, careful not to leave any marks. "Come with me," I command, pulling her toward the door.
"Wait… what? Let go of me!" she cries, trying to yank her arm free from my grasp. But I only tighten my grip, unwilling to let her escape.
“Lev, wait,” Lenny yells from behind. “You’ve got this all wrong.”
"Sorry, Sweetheart, but I wouldn’t do that if I were you," I reply, smirking at her futile attempts to resist. "Your father crossed the wrong people, and now you're going to pay the price."
"Are you insane?" she snaps, her fear momentarily forgotten as anger flares in her eyes. I have to admit, it's an attractive look on her. But I don't have time for games or banter—there's too much at stake.
"Maybe," I concede, dragging her out of the doorway and into the driveway. "But you should really take that up with your dear old dad. He's the one who brought this on you."
"Lev, please!" Lenny's voice calls out from behind me, desperation lacing his tone. "She has nothing to do with this!"
The girl, Lilah, tugs against my grip, her voice meek. "Let go of me, please!"
The fear in her eyes is palpable, like the first crack of thunder in an impending storm. She tries to break free, attempting to kick me in the shin.
"Get your hands off me!" she tries again, her free hand clawing at mine.
Her resistance is futile but admirable. Her attempts to break free only fuel my determination. With a swift motion, I lift her off her feet and hoist her over my shoulder, carrying her toward my car like a sack of potatoes.
"Put me down! You’ll drop me!" she shrieks, pounding on my back. I’ll drop her? I’m kidnapping her here, and that’s what she’s afraid of? I shake my head, honestly amused.
“I’m stronger than you think,” I tell her, trying to hold back my laughter. She says nothing, but stops struggling. Is she honestly afraid I’d drop her? Jesus.
“Look, just let me go and I can explain everything,” she tries bartering with me.
“This isn’t a negotiation,” I make it clear. My focus remains on the end goal—getting our money back and teaching Lenny a lesson he'll never forget.
“If you don’t put me down right now, I’ll call the cops,” she gives me an empty threat. But, I hear the quiver in her voice. She knows she has no way to do that, considering she’s hauled over my shoulder, with no phone in sight.
"Keep this up, and I might just add interest to your father's debt," I warn, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Got any siblings I don’t know about?”
I can't help but feel a thrill of satisfaction as she momentarily pauses her protests, perhaps realizing the futility of her situation.