Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
KIRILL
The hours at work drag, and I already can’t wait to get home and see my son.
As soon as I think that, she appears in my mind. I can’t wait to see her either. Every time I think of her on that stage, selling herself like that…blyat, I can’t think straight.
Curling my fingers around the edge of my desk, I tap through a few emails, barely registering a word before my office phone rings.
“Meeting. My office. Now.” Konstantin’s tone is tight.
My mind immediately goes to the Whitlocks and the problem we still have with them.
A few minutes later, I’m in the corridor, headed for his door. As soon as I step inside, Aleksei appears behind me, looking like he’s been dragged through hell and decided he liked the scenery. His shirt is clean, his suit still immaculate, but his face has seen better days.
Settling into one of the armchairs, I let my gaze sweep over him. “What happened to you? Had to keep your eyes open all night so your wife doesn’t stab you to death?”
He scoffs as he drops into the chair beside mine, that smug smirk already in place. “If Fiona wanted to stab me, she wouldn’t need me asleep.”
“Good to know your marriage is thriving,” I chuckle.
“Speaking of marriages…” His eyes cut to me. “Have you asked your homeless girl yet? I’m sure she’d prefer your bed over the car she sleeps in.”
My nostrils flare, and I have never wanted to kill him more. “Watch your mouth.”
Aleksei shrugs. “I am just worried about her. It’s not every day the woman you care about joins one of our auctions. Did you invite her to spend the night at least?”
“I told you to watch your mouth.” My teeth grit.
His smile widens like he’s pleased with himself, like this is his favorite sport.
“Enough,” Konstantin cuts in. “We have real business to discuss.”
“What’s so urgent?” I shift my focus to him, grateful he saved Aleksei from getting his face rearranged.
The last thing I need is blood on my shirt. It cost too much.
Konstantin leans back in his chair. “I found a contact. For the weapons.”
Aleksei’s eyes narrow. “Who?”
“The Albanians.”
We’ve worked with them before. Just not for this.
Aleksei tilts his head, considering it. “How fast can they move what we need?”
“It will take time,” Konstantin says. “They need a secure route, but they want assurances. They want to know we are all aligned before they move product.”
Anton’s gaze stays on Konstantin. He doesn’t react, but he hears everything. He always does.
I nod once. “We’re fine with it if you are.”
Konstantin flicks his face to me. “Good. I will let him know we are set. We will have this sorted soon. But for now, I have a plan for the Whitlocks.”
That gets all of us curious. Even Anton moves, taking the empty chair at the conference table.
Konstantin looks directly at him. “I need you to be the one to do it.”
“Do what?”
Konstantin reaches for an orange envelope on the table, pulls out a photo, and slides it across toward Anton. I catch the woman’s face just as he does.
He picks it up and studies her like she’s not a person, but a problem he needs to assess. “Who is that?”
“Thora Whitlock.” Konstantin folds his arms over his chest. “Youngest child of Harlan Whitlock. And your target.”
Anton’s eyes lift from the photo for a brief glance, then drop right back to her. There’s no emotion in them—just that cold, unnerving curiosity.
“You want me to kill her?” He looks almost interested.
Excited is not the word to describe him. Anton doesn’t get excited. He gets…engaged. Like his mind clicks into place and the rest of the world fades into background noise.
“Not yet,” Konstantin says. “I want you to follow her. I want you to know her routine inside and out. I want to know when she wakes up, when she goes to sleep, where she goes, who she speaks to, what her habits are when she thinks no one is watching. I want everything. And when the time comes—if it comes—I want you to be the one to kill her.”
Silence stretches as Anton stares at the photo again. His thumb slides along the edge, then his finger drifts across the image, slow and almost careful, tracing the line of her face like he’s memorizing it or studying a blueprint. He’s like a wolf deciding when to bite.
Anton lifts his gaze and shrugs. “Consider it done.”
The words land like a match. And I know what it means.
This war has already started. We just haven’t fired the first shot.
The engine is already running, the navigation set for one of our restaurants where I have a meeting with an investor, when my cellphone rings.
When I glance down, I find Oleg’s name, one of the men I put on Sloane without her knowing it. There is no way I will allow her out in the world without protection. Lev, of course, has his own guard, who is instructed to go wherever Lev goes, but this is her guard alone.
“Da, Oleg?”
A pause hits, then his voice comes through like he is choosing his words with too much care.
“Boss, I have been watching her all day as you asked, but…” He trails off.
Something is wrong.
Fingers snap around the steering wheel. “What is it? Say it.”
“She is with a man.”
Everything goes quiet in my skull, and I wonder if I heard right.
“What man?”
“Ya neznayu.” I don’t know. “I am not close enough to hear their conversation.” He pauses again, and I can just see him sweating. “There is a little boy with them too. They are at the park. She got the boy ice cream, and they are all laughing together.”
Laughing? She’s laughing with another man?
Heat crawls up my spine while that animal part of me that does not negotiate or share roars to the surface. She did not tell me about any men in her life. No mention of a boyfriend.
Svolich. Who is he? And why do I want to kill him already?
The steering wheel creaks under my grip. “Send me a photo.”
Oleg clears his throat.
“Now.”
“Da, da khorosho.”
I end the call and wait for the damn photo to come through like my life depends on it. The phone buzzes a few seconds later, and I quickly open it, my heart almost giving out when I see her with him.
Sloane’s face is turned toward the camera, her eyes on the bastard across from her, hair pulled back, cheeks flushed from the cold. Her smile is wide, real, and it’s not for me.
When I look at the boy, I immediately recognize him. It’s her nephew.
Maybe it’s her sister’s boyfriend or a cousin. Maybe she just missed her nephew. But something doesn’t sit right.
I should just follow her myself. The meeting can go to hell.
But I know Konstantin would not be forgiving. I need to make this meeting.
My fist lands hard against the middle console of my car.
The phone buzzes again.
Oleg
Do you want us to approach?
My thumb hovers.
Approach and make a scene? Walk into that park and let Sloane see exactly what she has triggered in me?
No, I can’t do that. Not yet. I will let this play out. Let’s see if she lies about it when I ask what she did today.
Kirill
No. Stay back and watch. Tell me if he touches her.
Oleg
Okay, boss.
I remain in the car, eyes locked on her face, like staring hard enough will change what I’m seeing.
It doesn’t. Sloane’s still smiling at him.
“Fuck.” My fist cracks on the wheel, the sound too loud in the quiet car.
I drop the phone onto the seat and start the engine, needing to get the hell out of here.
I keep telling myself I’m overreacting. It’s nothing. But in the back of my mind, I’m already wondering what else she’s been hiding from me…and whether she understands what happens when a man like me decides he wants answers.