Chapter 14 Mikail #2
Fuck. I’ll take Dahlia to my place tonight, where we’ll be unbothered. I am so deep in shit, what is one more lie.
At the breakfast table, her mother glances from her to me as she eats her salmon avocado toast. “Did you have fun last night?”
Dahlia chokes on her toast with strawberry jam. I am on my feet and by her side before she can even blink, patting her back and offering her a glass of water.
“I’m okay, thank you,” she says, our eyes locking.
For a moment, I forget we’re not alone.
Dahlia shrugs, but the blush betrays her. “We just stargazed.”
“Mm-hmm,” her mother says absentmindedly.
I don’t like at all how Marcella doesn’t even pretend to buy her bullshit before she excuses herself.
I can’t stop thinking that this will be a recurring thing.
Dahlia and I stare at each other. The pretense stretches between us like a viper ready to pounce. I am so done with this shit.
“We’re going to get caught, maybe,” she sighs, looking sideways.
My fingers fist around the fork so hard that it might bend under the pressure. “No. I’ll deal with it.”
“One more week,” she murmurs, the corners of her lips pulling down.
I rake a hand through my hair. “One more week.”
It sounds like a truckload of shit. Everything changed. I can’t go back. Destiny. Weakness. Whatever it was, it caught up with me.
There is only one way—ahead, whatever ahead means.
“I’ll pick you up later,” I say and bend over to kiss the top of her head.
As soon as I reach the office, my phone doesn’t stop ringing.
There is a problem at the warehouse that is delaying transportation, threatening to call my word into question.
“Find the missing container or you’ll wish you had a heart attack before I come down there.” I hang up, and half an hour later, the missing container is found.
Then I hop on a conference call with Demyan, Alexei, and Lew, my three right hands. I had to seize the power for myself quickly after my father died. Each of them got one favor from me and the promise of being allowed to rule their cities in return for their support.
They come once a month to pay their respects, discuss business in person, and to keep a close unit. That day is approaching.
When we joined our forces and resources, Enzo and I created brACON, but each of us leads our family empires separately. I trust no one fully, but him. But we must keep up appearances, so we give the people in our close circles the impression we trust them implicitly.
“You look stressed as fuck. When is Enzo coming back from his honeymoon?” Lew asks. Of the three of them, I respect him most. He’s a ruthless asshole and doesn’t pretend to be anything else.
“In one week. And I’m not stressed,” I grit out.
“Sure, Pakhan.” He gives me a pointed look. “His marriage proved quite beneficial to us.”
That’s what interests him. He’s pragmatic like that.
“I’m sure the Pakhan can find you a suitable bride,” Demyan grins, loving to stir shit up. Of the three of them, I like him the most because he’s a damn chameleon, charming one moment, slicing your neck the next.
Lew sneers. “You first, motherfucker, but what sane woman would even get close to you.”
Alexei shakes his head at them. He’s the silent one. And the one that keeps these two under control for me. Of the three of them, I appreciate him and his genius brain the most.
“Business going all right?” I ask, and when all three of them nod, I add, “Good, because I have better things to do than listen to you boring me to death with your kindergarten bullshit,” I grumble, losing my patience with them.
“Yeah, not stressed at all, Pakhan,” Lew grins.
Demyan sighs as if hating Lew was right, while Alexei eyes me with obvious curiosity.
I hang up.
The first is a psychopath who, for fun, lets himself into Russian prisons to discover ways to escape.
The second is semi-suicidal, living for the next thrill.
The last one is the only levelheaded one, leading from the shadows, playing the master puppeteer.
I need to get them married off, but these assholes run from marriage worse than death.
Getting back to work, I check in with all the top-level managers of the various companies under our holdings. The task demands my full attention, sucking up my time.
What’s my woman doing?
I text while the manager drones on about the win-loss projection. Enzo and I know only one way—forward, staying on track with innovation. We constantly invest, and not everyone welcomes that risky business endeavor.
“Get the merger done,” I say, ending the call, knowing I must hop on another meeting in the next few minutes.
Dahlia sends me a short video of her playing the piano. The melody sounds different. While it preserves the melancholy and intense emotions she is known for, this one has more pep, appearing more hopeful with traces of joy.
You’re so talented, baby girl.
She sends me another pic of her gorgeous face, pouting with a text.
I miss you.
I’ll finish as fast as I can.
You better.
With no more pauses, I push through the meetings.
Glancing at my watch, I see it’s past nine p.m. and I type.
I’m on my way.
This day has moved torturously slow with thoughts of her invading my brain and threatening my concentration, pumping me up to return to her.
Snatching my jacket, I slip out of the office and call Adrian, Debauchery’s manager.
“Make sure everything goes smoothly. I’m heading to the compound.”
“You won’t be at the club tonight either?” he asks, sounding incredulous.
“Did I fucking stutter?” I don’t give him the chance to reply as I hang up and drive to pick her up.
I don’t know exactly where my self-preservation went.
Maybe I discarded it when she bargained to give her what she wants until Enzo returns.
Maybe it got obliterated when I was so jealous I wanted to kill that asshole, Tristan, and start a war.
Maybe it got buried when I kissed her for the first time and knew that was it.
It’s irrelevant because as Dahlia sprints from the house and straight into my arms, I could never resurrect it. My survival instinct is dead and buried for good.
She’s been the only woman stuck on my mind, embedded in my heartstrings, the one I wear on my skin.
She’s worth it all. I’ll bleed myself dry if I must, paying with my life gladly.