Chapter 22 #2
When we finally sober, Roman shakes his head.
“Scared the shit out of me, to be honest. As it turned out, it was a case of mistaken identity on both sides. I thought the man I was looking for was in her club; she thought I was a trafficker there to kill her. After we worked out what had happened, we got talking. Turned out we had more in common than we did reasons to hate each other.” He shrugs.
“Might have been an unusual start, but oddly, the friendship stuck.”
Despite my initial reaction, I can see why. Roman and Zinaida are, in some ways, the same kind of animal.
Both driven. Both damaged. Both utterly ruthless—except when it comes to those they love.
Love, Luke?
Cold shock rushes through me.
That’s a bit of a strong fucking word for one mindless encounter in a shipping container.
I neck the rest of my beer and open another one, trying not to think about that particular word.
Instead I focus on the outstanding food, delicious wine, and, despite Roman’s revelations, exceptional company.
As we polish off a seafood feast good enough to make a grown man cry, and the conversation moves from one fascinating topic to the next, I’m reminded of all the reasons I like these men so much.
It’s late, and Mak has gone inside for another bottle of cognac, when Roman stands up, yawning.
“I need to call Darya before it gets too late, then hit the sack.” He rubs a hand over his face.
“Sadly, having three small children means that the best night out is one where I can enjoy uninterrupted sleep.” I don’t miss the fact that he doesn’t look sad at all.
As he passes me, he glances down and grips my shoulder. “Are we good?”
I meet his eyes. Just for a second, I let him see a glimpse of the savage that nearly threw him over a railing.
Roman tilts his head with a wry expression. “Copy that.” He pauses, as if he’s debating with himself, then abruptly says, “Did you ever hear how Darya and I met?”
“I think Dimitry might have mentioned a coffee shop?”
He gives a silent huff of laughter. “Sure. I guess that’s how we actually met. But after that, I hired her. As an au pair for the children.”
I don’t attempt to hide my surprise. “You hired her?”
“Yup.” Roman grimaces. “Believe me, I still cringe at the thought of the contract I made her sign. It took me a long time—longer than I like to admit—to realize that it was Darya I needed, not an au pair.” He meets my eyes.
“Point is, Macarthur,” he says quietly, “I wasn’t lying when I said Zinaida and I have a lot in common. ”
He claps my shoulder, then walks into the house, already lifting his phone as he climbs the stairs.
The sound of his low laughter as he speaks to his wife makes me feel oddly lonely.
I wonder if Zinaida is sitting at Roman’s house right now, listening to the same conversation and feeling the same way.
Restless, I wander over to lean on the railing. Mak joins me, filling my glass without asking. We stand in silence for a time, watching the moon play on the sea below.
You can’t put this off.
“I need you to end my contract with Zinaida, Mak.”
“I see.” He lights a cigar and blows a cloud of smoke. “Do you have a replacement in mind?”
“I’m not saying I want to be replaced.” I stare out over the sea, turning my glass slowly in my hands. “Just that I want to draw a line under the contract.”
“Ah.” Mak’s nod contains a world of understanding. “Well, noble as your intentions might be, Captain Macarthur, I don’t allow operatives to work for free.”
“It’s not up for debate. I’m returning what you paid me. I don’t need the money, and I don’t fucking want it.”
“Steady on.” He holds up a hand. “I hear you, loud and clear. I have something else in mind.” He glances sideways at me. “You know I sit on the Mercura board, I take it?”
I nod, still tense.
“Well, managing the security of the board members has started to become something of a full-time job. One I don’t particularly have time for.” For once, his expression is thoughtful rather than sardonic. “It’s also something I can’t exactly outsource. Or at least, not to anyone I don’t trust.”
I hear what he’s saying.
I know what he’s asking.
I’m just not sure what answer to give him.
Part of me is already imagining what I’d set up and how it would work.
The other part of me knows damned well that this is the precipice I’ve been edging toward from the moment I took that first bratva job in Miami.
But leaping off the cliff is one thing. Agreeing to dive into the depths of the bratva world, swim in it on a full-time basis, is something else entirely.
Except you already have, Luke, and you fucking know it.
I leaped off that cliff the moment Zinaida and I got naked in the storage yard at Avonmouth. And if I didn’t know how far over the cliff I’d gone, my reaction to Roman’s revelation tonight brought it home clearly enough.
Is it really the bratva you’re worried about diving into, Luke?
Zinaida’s face flits behind my eyes, her mouth open with desire, her head back as she moans beneath my hands.
I shift restlessly.
Mak, to his credit, knows me well enough not to push it.
“For now,” he says smoothly, “I’ll cancel the contract and return the fee.
I’m flying back to London myself tomorrow morning, for a meeting at the Quartier, as it happens.
If Zinaida asks questions, I’ll tell her you’re working for the board.
When you’ve taken care of the threat to her, we’ll talk again.
” He turns back toward the house. “In the meantime,” he says, reaching for the cognac bottle, “unless it transgresses your newfound moral stance, let’s have another drink, and you can tell me about your progress so far. ”