12. Konstantin
TWELVE
Konstantin
“Send somebody to pick up the shipments,” Roman says over the phone. “The paperwork should all be cleared, but we don’t want to take chances.”
I nod, and I’m glad he can’t see me rolling my eyes.
Roman acts like I haven’t been running our American operations for months.
Even when Petrov was nominally in charge, I did most of the work.
“Yes,” I answer rotely as I tap through my emails. I use VPNs and other methods to prevent any of my browsing and traffic from being discovered, but it still pays to ensure there’s nothing incriminating to be found. “Is Father there? I’d like to speak to him about the whole Winters situation.”
Roman makes a disgruntled noise. “You can tell me.”
If I tell him, he’ll take credit for anything I’ve done. That’s always been the way of it. We’ve never been the kind of family who “prop each other up” or cheer for each others’ success.
“Just get me Father. He’ll want to hear it directly from me, anyway.” I pause meaningfully before adding, “Unless you’d prefer to hand him the bad news. ”
As suspected, that shuts him up quick. He grumbles, but after a few beats, I hear rustling and my brother telling my father that Kotya is on the line .
My eyes go to the office door, and I frown when I realize the light streaming in from under the door is interrupted. It could be one of the guards, but…
I get up from my desk and quietly walk to the door. I pull it open too fast for anybody to get out of sight.
Sierra is standing on the other side. She freezes, then her cheeks flush. “I didn’t understand anything!” she says hurriedly. “I was just coming to talk to you.”
I raise my eyebrows at her. She’s wearing the same black leather getup she had the previous day, when she and Yura had come back from their little excursion. I admit, while I enjoy the way she looks in my shirts, the tight leather highlighting every curve of her body isn’t bad either.
“Come in,” I say, pointing to the office couch.
She hesitates only briefly before obeying, and I suspect she doesn’t actually want to talk to me about anything. Still, what would she have expected to find out? Surely she’d know I’d speak to anyone important in Russian.
My father finally starts talking. “Roman says you have news for me?”
Sierra sits at the edge of the couch, glancing at the phone, but she doesn’t say anything else.
“We found some new information on Winters’ dealings. At least some of our shipments have landed with another of these American crime families.” I say all of it in Russian, but I notice Sierra perk up when I mention her family’s name.
My father grunts. “Then what’s the issue? Go take care of them.”
“They’re in another city, and we need to lay low,” I answer. I suppose, in a sense, this actually is bad news. My father does not have a lot of patience. “If we make a big show of it, we risk drawing even more attention from the American pigs. ”
“So bribe them,” my father says. “Or can you not afford to do that?”
“I can bribe the police. I cannot bribe the feds,” I counter. It’s irritating how different those two organizations are, but in all my years here, I hadn’t been able to find any corruptible contacts in the FBI. I am sure they exist, but they weren’t willing to risk dealing with me .
“So why did you call? I’m not hearing anything important right now.”
I remind myself that, while my father isn’t patient, I need to be. “Because I know where to look now, and I have a plan. But I’m going to need more resources. I’ve been severely hampered by all the arrests, and?—”
“No,” my father interrupts. “You just said there’s too much scrutiny. I’m not interrupting my regular business to risk everything getting shut down simply because you can’t handle things.”
The frustration grows inside me.
It’s always like this. I should have known, but I’d thought, with a concrete plan… I suppress my emotions though and answer, as calmly as I can, “Understood.”
I don’t bother telling him what my plan is, or everything else I’ve discovered. He isn’t going to care, not until everything is already finished and he can simply focus on everything we’ve won.
There’s a long pause, and I steel myself for whatever my father is about to say.
“Did Roman tell you, his wife is pregnant again?” my father says.
“His mistress,” I correct, even though I know my father doesn’t care either way.
My father makes a dismissive sound. “Whatever. It’ll be another son.”
“I know,” I answer. Of course Roman had told me. He’d been bragging about it, even. How he was so fruitful or whatever the fuck he is, like he’s special for fucking a woman without a condom.
“You aren’t having children,” my father states. It’s hard to tell whether it’s a rebuke or a warning .
“Not as far as I know.” I get up to pace around the room, and my eyes land on Sierra.
We haven’t been using condoms with her. She’d said she wasn’t on birth control.
Something about the way I’m looking at her must be making her uncomfortable. She coughs, averting her eyes from me, but I don’t look away from her.
There could be a baby growing inside her right now. A son for me, to carry on my legacy. I wouldn’t hide any child of mine, no matter who the mother was.
“Keep it that way,” my father says. “I don’t want any headaches about inheritances or succession.”
Like he hasn’t told me this a million times already. He was happy to create “messes” with his mistress, Roman is spreading his seed, but me? I’m not allowed to follow their examples.
My father hangs up, leaving me sneering.
I’ve never made any demands of him. I work for him, I do what he and my brother ask, but have I ever asked for anything? I wouldn’t ever expect him to care about me and mine.
“Did you enjoy the conversation?” I snap at Sierra in English.
“Nope,” she says breezily, though I can see the way her cheeks heat a little more. “It wasn’t interesting at all. Except for the part where you mentioned my family. I’d love to know what was being said there so I can make my own comments.”
I smirk at her. “I told him about how tight your cunt is. That the Winters’ bunny was more than worth the trouble.”
Sierra looks at me with a horrified expression, but then she scowls. “You’re making that up. Ugh. Why do the three of you have to be such total pricks?”
“I am making it up,” I agree. I force myself to put the talk of children out of my mind. “I would not entice my father or brother to fuck somebody who belongs to me.” I move over to the couch and sit down next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. “We will devise a plan to approach your fathers’ contacts. Don Marino, you said?”
She’d managed to figure out the code in the notebook within a few hours, though she was still working on decoding the entire thing — or so she’d said. I’m not sure whether she knows more than she’s letting on.
“He was my father’s contact in Benton City,” she says cautiously. “Well. One of them. Don Marino works for Victor Corvi, and I guess that circumvented the usual mafia politics? I’m not really sure.”
“Don Marino does not work for Corvi,” I correct. “He has his own group. They are allied with Corvi, but I suppose the options are limited now.”
There had been a big shoot-out two years ago, which upended a lot of the existing power structure in the Benton City underworld. I’ve done my best to keep track of how things are going there since then.
I know that I can’t afford to piss off Victor Corvi. Don Marino, however, is less insulated. He’s getting old, too, and if he’s been dealing with the Winters Gang, he might have been going around Corvi.
The politics give me a headache, but this is something I can do better than Roman. Roman doesn’t like keeping track of all the alliances and friendships. He expects everybody to act exactly as he dictates—and maybe it works for him, because he has Father backing him directly.
“What deals was your father doing with Don Marino?” I ask Sierra, peering at the notebook.
“A few large shipments over the last six months—er, the last six months from when this was last updated,” she says, flipping the page. “God, this thing was so laughably easy to decode.” She shakes her head. “I think he was working as a go-between, but things get a little muddled. It’s not like Sean wrote essays about the intricacies of their relationships, but yeah. Weapons, it looks like. The usual. I don’t think Marino was doing anything with drugs or human trafficking.” She grimaces.
“Does it mention the shipment they got from us?” I ask. I almost tell her exactly how many guns are involved, before I realize that she isn’t somebody I should be trusting with that information .
Strange, how easy it is to forget that she’s the enemy.
She nods, turning a few more pages. She points to a section of nonsense on the page, rattling off more details of the shipment than Winters should’ve known. She looks up at me, head tilted to the side as she says, “Well, that’s interesting.”
I quirk a brow at her, gesturing for her to continue, and she turns to the very end.
“Apparently, this shipment had been stolen from them,” Sierra says with a small snort. “They got it back, then they intended to sell it to Petrov.” Her smile falters. “But that’s the last entry.”
I frown at that information. “They lost the shipment? But got it back in the end, just in time for the feds to interrupt the deal and arrest your brother and Petrov—the boss.” I shake my head, not sure what to make of that.
None of it makes sense. I have to assume Sean Winters was particularly incompetent in his dealings, and that’s how the feds caught wind of it—and somehow, William Winters died in the process.
“I never did find out how your father died,” I say, rubbing Sierra’s shoulder. “He wasn’t at the meeting with Petrov, or he would have been arrested too. Unless the feds killed him?”
Sierra’s lips thin into a line, and for a moment, she’s silent. She closes the notebook. “I don’t know,” she says tersely. “Kyran only told me that he was dead. He always had some excuse not to tell me, and it’s not like the feds were forthcoming about it.”
“And Sean didn’t say anything?” I press. “He must know something.”
She shakes her head. “They’re probably trying to protect me.” She tries to pull away from me, but I tighten my grip around her shoulder and pull her closer. “They were always doing that. Still are, like I’m some fragile little doll who can’t ever know the truth about anything.”
“Because they care about you.” I scoff at myself for saying something even resembling comforting, but maybe I can understand this desire to not be on the outside. After all, hadn’t my father sent me here, to America, to keep me away from all of his real business? He hadn’t even put me in charge. No, I’d been under Petrov .
“If I’d been born male, they’d have told me things,” Sierra says. “I’d have been expected to know. They wouldn’t have treated me like I’m an idiot, either.”
“You would want to be part of it all?” I ask, genuinely curious. “The violence, the blood, the betrayals?”
For a moment, she’s quiet. I’m starting to think she’s not going to answer when she finally says, “I didn’t. Not for a long time. After I found Neil…” She swallows hard, fidgeting, and this time when she tries to pull away, I let her up. She starts to pace, staring at the floor. “I wished everyone in my family would get the fuck out of it. But as I got older, I realized that wasn’t even a rational wish. There was no way to exit that kind of life, short of moving across the country, and even that might not have been enough. So I thought maybe I could be useful.”
“Is that why you decided to study hacking?” I watch her walk around my office. She stops to pick up a picture frame, which has a picture of me and my mother from before I left Russia.
“I thought I could protect them that way,” she says, staring down at the picture. “Is this your mother?”
“Yes,” I answer. “Mila Belova.” Another thing I shouldn’t be telling her, but even with her computer skills, I doubt there is anything she could do. Sierra does not speak Russian, and she has no contacts in Russia.
She doesn’t even have contacts here .
“That’s pretty,” she says. “She’s pretty, too. You look like her.” She glances at me. “Is she still alive?”
“My mother is far prettier than I am,” I say, stroking my beard. I think nobody else has ever accused me of looking like her. No, I have my father’s large figure and his thick brows and beard. I did get her red hair, though. “And she’s alive, last I heard. My father moved her to a villa far outside Moscow. He had to keep her away from his wife, after all.”
She stops pacing and looks at me, making a face. “Really? What is it with mafia men and their mistresses?” She sighs. “At least my father didn’t have a mistress.”
“You think your brothers had mistresses?” I ask, raising my brows.
Sierra shakes her head without hesitation, sagging back against the desk. “No. Neil and Sean… They loved their wives. And Kyran is gay and completely infatuated with fucking Silvano.” Her lip curls into a sneer. “I’d pity the fool who tried to get Kyran away from him.”
I don’t know why she says that. I’m not particularly impressed with Silvano Cresci. To me, he’s an impotent little whelp, and he’s only lucky that the FBI raided the deal between the Winters and Petrov so he was able to seize power in the wake of it.
She seems to catch that, and she shrugs. “He’s dangerous in his own way. He’s…” She scrunches up her nose. “Sneaky, I guess. Clever.”
“Clever can only get you so far,” I answer. “And if your brother weren’t so pathetic, he would have killed Cresci by now. Your family could have absorbed their operations, instead of the other way around.”
“Kyran is…” Sierra bites her bottom lip, considering. “I don’t know. He’s a follower, not a leader. And he and Silvano have been together for ages.” She lets out a huff of a laugh.
I bark out a laugh. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I will murder Silvano.”
I might have brokered a semi truce with him, but I don’t believe for a second it will last.
Sierra twists her fingers together. “It would kill Kyran, too,” she says softly. “He wouldn’t stop until the world burned. They’re that way for each other.” She sounds a little wistful, to my surprise, but before I can comment on it, she goes on, “Classes start back up in a few days.” She looks up at me. “Do I get to go?”
The change in topic is abrupt, but I suppose I’m tired of talking about family too. I spread my legs wider and glance thoughtfully at her.
“Hmm. Perhaps you need to convince me.” I pat my thigh. “I need a very good case to allow a valuable asset out of the safety of my home.”
“I’m not very valuable without the rest of my education,” Sierra says, slowly crossing the room to come to me. She straddles my lap, leaning in to kiss my throat. “And I’ll behave. I know you’ll take it out on my mother if I don’t. You were very, very clear that my family’s well-being depends on my good behavior. And I’ve been good, haven’t I? I haven’t even punched Yuri in the nuts.”
I laugh and grip her hips. “He would have hurt you very badly if you’d done that.” I massage her ass through the tight leather pants. “What did you do with him, then? Or did he leave you completely untouched during your little trip?”
She lets out a bark of laughter. “What do you think?” she retorts. She wraps her arms around me, kissing me — and I doubt it’s because she wants to, but instead because she wants to shut me up. I allow it, kissing her back, and she draws away after a moment, breathing a bit more quickly.
“Tell me,” I say when she pulls away. “What did Yura do with you?” I know Yura loves the motorcycle a lot more than most people, and he’s always ready to fuck when he gets back from a ride. With Sierra pressing up against his back, her arms around his waist, I doubt he would have been able to hold back.
Her cheeks flush, and she squirms — which also feels nice against my cock. “He bent me over the bike and fucked me,” she mumbles.
I groan, imagining what that must have looked like. “Yeah? How did that feel?” I push my fingers along the seam of the leather pants, right over her pussy. Even through the leather I can feel how hot she is.
“It felt…” Sierra swallows hard, shifting restlessly in my lap. “It was good.”
I quirk a brow at her. “Good?”
“Better than good,” she amends reluctantly. “Too bad he’s a total jackass and went and ruined it when it was over.”
“He is a good man,” I say defensively. Yura is the one person I know I can trust with my life. “I didn’t ask what you thought of Yura. I asked what it felt like to have him fuck you over his bike.”
She scowls at me. “And I answered you. It felt good. Then he ruined it. Kind of like you’re ruining this now. I don’t want to talk about Yura .”
I reach up to grip her chin. “Be careful, Sierrochka. We are having a good time. Don’t make me regret being nice to you.”
Her eyes flash with defiance, but she catches herself before she says — or does — something stupid. “All right. What do you want from me, then? It was hot, all right? The bike, the fuck, all of it. I liked the ride.”
“Yura drove into you—from behind?” I prompt. “Did he come inside you?” I let go of her chin so I can undo my fly.
“Yes,” she says.
I grip her hips tight to bruise her. “What did I just say, Sierrochka? You are not convincing me I should let you leave my domain.”
“Your domain,” Sierra starts to scoff, but she catches herself. She sighs, then looks at me with renewed determination as she rolls her hips against mine. “The bike was… incredible. I’ve never felt like that before. I don’t even know how to describe it. And maybe I teased him a little, maybe I provoked him, so he pulled off into the middle of nowhere. Then he fucked me senseless over the bike until he came.” She pauses, then adds slowly, “In me. He came in me, and it was coming out of me and it made my panties wet.”
I imagine it, how sloppy she would have been, how wide her pussy was stretched. The sheer desperation in Yura. Both of them are beautiful people, and they would have looked amazing, rutting against the bike.
If Yura or Nikolai impregnates her, it wouldn’t even be “my” mess.
I groan and pull her in for a savage kiss, nipping her lips and leaving them bruised and swollen.
She kisses back every bit as ardently, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think she was enjoying it .
Maybe she is. I can’t tell through the leather pants, but when I reach to unbutton them, my phone rings.
I almost ignore it, except a few seconds later, there’s a knock on the door too.
“Boss?” Boris, one of the men says in Russian. “Boss, Petrov’s lawyer is here, and? — ”
Sierra goes still, likely recognizing the name even if she can’t understand anything else of what we’re saying.
I curse loudly, responding in Russian, “Tell him I’m busy.”
There’s a brief pause before he continues, “He says it’s urgent… ”
Fuck. I let out a frustrated sound and zip up my pants before getting up, still holding Sierra. She yelps and wraps her arms around me for balance.
I walk us to the door and pull it open, glaring at Boris. “This had better be extremely fucking important,” I growl.
Boris has the decency to look terrified, but he recovers. “It’s about the upcoming trial, and…”
It’s a fucking headache, is what it is. I don’t give a fuck if Petrov ever gets out of prison.
“Business?” Sierra asks, and while she tries to sound casual, she can’t hide her interest. Even though we spoke in Russian, it’s clear it was important.
I slowly lower her to the floor, and she glances from me to Boris.
“Go tell Nikolai he’s accompanying you to your classes tomorrow,” I bark at her, finally switching back to English.
She perks up, then she leans up to kiss me. It’s a quick kiss, nothing like the savage one I’d given her, but she skips a few steps away from me before I can do anything more. “On it.” With one last glance at Boris, who’s regarding her with a stoic expression, she meanders down the hall.
Her ass looks good in those leather pants.
She would look good with a swollen, pregnant belly, too.