27. Kai
Twenty-Seven
Kai
The room around me is packed.
Adrik Volkov sits at the head of the table, looking exactly like the terrifying Russian billionaire everyone assumes he is.
Beside him sits his brother, Marat Volkov, who somehow manages to look even scarier despite the fact he is probably the most handsome man I have ever seen.
Nico Fury—the Viper King—is leaning back in his chair like he owns the place.
Which, technically, he has a share.
Josef Aziz is reviewing files.
Andres Ramirez has his laptop open.
Remy Falco is sprawled across two chairs like a man attending a barbecue instead of a business meeting.
Across from me, Ego looks bored. As do the rest of our team—Jack, Less, and our fearless leader, Noel Kane.
That is… he looks bored until I blurt out in front of everybody, “I'm gonna marry her!”
Silence.
Then—chuckles.
Smirks.
And Noel actually snorts.
“Jesus Christ,” Less mutters from near the windows.
Jack's permanent scowl twitches.
Which, coming from Jack, is basically hysterical laughter.
Ego is grinning like the prick he is.
“Called it,” he says.
“Shut up.”
“Mom's gonna cry.”
“Shut up.”
“She's so gonna cry.”
“Shut—”
“And then Mom's gonna threaten to kill you if you screw this up.”
“Ego!”
Remy laughs.
“I already like this girl.”
“You haven't even met her.”
“Doesn't matter. Any woman who got Montego talking about marriage deserves a medal.”
Noel pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Can we get back to the organized crime before Romeo starts writing poetry?”
“Fuck you.”
“See?” Ego says. “He's glowing.”
“Ego,” Nico warns.
“Sorry, boss.”
No, he's not.
Not even a little.
“Okay,” Noel says. “Back to business.”
I'm still standing there like an idiot.
Ego's still smirking.
And honestly?
I don't care.
Because I'm really gonna do it.
I’m gonna marry Mary Donahue.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
But someday.
And the thought doesn't scare me.
It makes me stupid happy.
Which is honestly more terrifying.
Noel resumes his briefing.
“Joel Jonas has been steering municipal contracts for years. At first glance, it looked like normal corruption. Kickbacks. Favor trading. Nothing unusual.”
“Until you found the Sarkisians,” Andres Ramirez adds.
His fingers fly over the keyboard.
Charts appear on the screen.
Construction companies.
LLCs.
Subcontractors.
Dozens of names.
“Three separate contractors bidding on the gym project all trace back to shell companies tied to Sarkisian interests.”
“Meaning?” I ask.
Nico Fury answers.
“That’s easy. Money laundering.”
The room goes quiet.
Even Adrik sits upright.
“The Sarkisians aren't interested in building schools,” Nico continues. “They're interested in appearing to build schools.”
Adrik folds his hands.
“They need to wash cash from their gambling operations.”
Marat adds, “Gambling. Racketeering.”
Josef's eyes remain on the file.
“And fucking human trafficking, these pieces of shit.”
The last one turns my stomach.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“Exactly,” Noel says.
“The construction projects allow dirty money to become legitimate money. Inflate costs, bill fake expenses, move money through subcontractors, collect taxpayer funds.”
“And Jonas gets his cut?” Ego asks.
Andres nods.
“Oh yeah. That sleazeball is taking kickbacks.”
Ego barks out a laugh.
“This idiot really thinks he's playing gangster?”
Marat smiles.
It's not a pleasant smile.
“No. He’s dumber than that,” he says. “He thinks he's exploiting gangsters.”
The distinction matters.
Because I've met arrogant men before.
And Joel Jonas might be the worst of them.
A spoiled politician.
Rich family.
Town council seat.
Congressman uncle.
He thinks he's untouchable.
He thinks money makes him dangerous.
But these people?
The Sarkisians?
They aren't politicians.
They're predators.
“He's too stupid to realize he's dealing with criminals who have zero moral compass,” I say.
Josef nods.
“He thinks they're business partners.”
“Well, then he is stupider than he looks,” Adrik says quietly. “Trust me when I tell you the Vor of the Sarkasian family doesn’t think Jonas is a partner. To them, he is livestock.”
Everyone looks at him.
The Russian billionaire shrugs.
“They will use him until he becomes inconvenient.”
Cold.
Simple.
Terrifying.
Which is probably why Adrik Volkov scares the shit out of everybody.
His voice is so calm as he announces the upcoming murder of the councilman.
Always calm.
Honestly, next to Nico Fury he might be the coolest bastard in the room.
Inside?
Inside, I'm absolutely fanboying.
Fuck you.
These men are legends.
Ego kicks me under the table.
I stop staring.
“And your solution to Jonas’ smear campaign against your woman was to drive over there and punch him again?”
Adrik raises both eyebrows.
He looks amused.
Meanwhile, I’m starting to sweat over here.
I glance at Ego.
Ego glances at me.
Neither of us says anything.
“That wasn't a no,” Marat observes.
“It was under consideration,” I admit.
Josef pinches the bridge of his nose.
Noel groans.
Remy starts laughing.
“Knew it.”
“Shut up.”
“You absolutely would've punched him.”
“He deserved it. He still deserves it,” I mutter.
“Okay, so this councilman delayed permits because he wanted your woman?” Nico Fury asks, but it doesn’t sound like much of a question.
“Yes,” I growl.
“Then you guys counter by making it seem you’re just a jealous boyfriend—easy enough to forgive a punch to the nose when you’re the boyfriend, I get it. But in a twist of fate, you become her actual boyfriend. So he smears her rep in the paper?”
“A story in the paper we’ve linked to the Sarkisians,” I mutter
“Okay,” Nico says, nodding his head, “but his off the books job is to steer contracts toward organized crime, in particular to them, the Sarkisians. But this time he flakes because of a woman who doesn’t belong to him. I can tell you from experience, these guys? They’re not gonna like that.”
Adrik steeples his fingers and leans forward.
All of us lean in, waiting for what he’ll say next.
“The permits. That is how we get him,” he says.
Andres pushes several files forward.
“Yes, the money trail is clearer when you trace it through the permits and development projects.”
“How clear?” Nico asks.
“Clear enough that federal charges are possible—if he makes it out of this alive.”
Now everybody shuts up.
Even Ego.
Because federal charges are well and good—but the fact this idiot is gambling his life?
Well, that’s a whole different animal.
Then Marat smiles.
“Interesting.”
Which is Russian billionaire language for somebody's life is about to become deeply unpleasant.
My phone vibrates.
I glance down.
Immediately sit up straighter as her name appears in bold.
Firecracker
The contact picture alone makes me smile.
Unfortunately, everybody notices.
“Jesus Christ,” Noel mutters.
“Oh, look,” Ego says. “It's his girlfriend.”
“Not helping,” I growl.
“Definitely his girlfriend.”
“Shut up.”
The phone vibrates again.
URGENT.
My pulse immediately spikes.
“What?” Ego asks.
“It’s Mary. She marked it urgent.”
The room goes silent.
Every father in this room has daughters.
Every husband in this room has wives.
They understand.
Adrik actually looks amused.
“Need to answer that?”
“Sorry, Mr. Volkov, but yeah.”
He nods once.