Chapter 25
AbrAM
She’s gone.
Her scent lingers, vanilla, warm and sweet. It makes my hands clench and my breath catch. I want her back. In my arms, in my bed. I want her laughing and looking at me like I hung the goddamn stars.
It almost scares me how much I want her.
But whatever she needed tonight, it wasn’t me. Or, at least, not the version of me I’m used to offering.
I pour myself a whiskey—neat, two fingers—and head for the glass wall overlooking the Strip. My kingdom. Glittering, dangerous, drunk on its own power. For the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like the man who owns it. I feel like a man who just let something priceless walk out his door.
She’s hiding something. I know it as sure as I’m breathing, but I won’t push.
She’ll tell me when she’s ready.
Or she won’t.
Either way, I won’t chase her. Not tonight.
I take my drink and head upstairs to the second-floor office.
It’s minimal—a long, modern desk, two guest chairs that no one ever sits in, and a massive oil painting of St. Petersburg in the snow I’ve stared at more nights than I can count.
I keep the recessed lights dim, just enough to work by.
The city glows below me, a living, breathing thing.
I hit the speakerphone. “Call Mikhail.”
The line clicks before Mikhail’s voice comes through, low and throaty. “Boss.”
“You get anything out of Agosti yet?”
“Not a damn thing. Nico’s stonewalling. Still saying the don’s too sick for visitors. Same bullshit as always.”
I slowly sip my whiskey. “Same story I’m hearing. You believe it?”
“No.” A pause. “You want me to escalate?”
I swirl the amber liquid in my hand, eyes on the skyline. “No. But I want a meeting. Tomorrow morning.”
“With Nico?”
“No. With Don Agosti.”
Silence. Then a soft whistle. “You planning to knock on the front door?”
“In broad daylight. We go in clean. No threats. No games. Just a visit.”
“Smart,” he says. “So if anyone starts shit, it’s on them.”
“Exactly.”
Another pause. “You want Denis to join us?”
“Yeah. Nine a.m. Tell him to meet us at the office. And bring a couple heavies but nothing flashy.”
“Consider it done.”
“Good. I want this handled before it turns into something we can’t walk back from.”
“Understood.” He hangs up without fanfare. That’s why I keep him close. He doesn’t waste my time.
I set the glass down and stare out the window, deep in thought.
This city never sleeps. Neither do the men who want to take it from me. But they don’t understand the difference between wanting power and being bred for it. I didn’t claw my way up from the dark just to lose ground to some pampered princeling shithead like Nico Agosti.
Still, something’s shifting. I can feel it. Like a storm pressing in behind the neon.
Jenna’s in the path of it now. Whether she knows it or not.
God help me, I’ll burn down half this town before I let it touch her. But that will only work if I know what I’m protecting her from.
I glance out into the night, the city alive with sin and secrets, wondering just how long she can keep hers from me.
And what it’ll cost us both when it comes out.
Sleep evades me.
I toss and turn all night, entangled in dreams of Jenna in my bed, Jenna laughing in my arms, Jenna walking away… looking back just once before disappearing into the shadows.
It’s unsettling. Not the dreams, I’ve had worse, but how much they affect me.
I’ve had one-night stands, flings, women I saw a handful of times, women I’ve dated on and off. Hell, I’ve been married.
But Jenna? This is something else entirely. I miss her. I feel like she took a part of me with her last night, and now I’m walking around without it.
If I feel this way already, if she means this much, then she’s a liability. A weakness someone could use against me.
If my enemies were to find out…
She could be in danger. No. I will never allow it. She’ll be protected. I’ll make damn sure of it.
By the time the sun rises over the city, I’m already in the car. I skip the valet, taking the long way around to the private parking entrance under the building. The office isn’t open yet, but I told Mikhail and Denis to meet me there early. We need to be ready before paying the Agostis a visit.
However,, something feels off. The tight coil at the base of my neck, the one that starts to wind when shit’s about to go sideways, is tugging hard. It’s the kind of edge I’ve learned to trust. It’s saved my life more than once.
I pull into the private garage and kill the engine. My hand goes straight to the glove box, retrieving my Glock. I tuck it into the waistband at my back, covering it with my suit jacket.
It’s probably nothing. But probably has no place in my world.
I get out, slow and steady, eyes scanning the shadowed corners of the garage. It’s too quiet. The familiar air smells of concrete and car exhaust. But the tension in my gut doesn’t ease.
No guards. No entourage. I don’t keep a detail around me constantly—not because I can’t, but because I don’t like the message it sends. Makes a man look weak. Afraid.
I’m not afraid nor am I weak.
I’m cautious, smart.
And it appears I’m alone.
I’m halfway to the private elevator when I hear it.
Engines. Low. Controlled. Three of them.
I turn just as they appear—three black SUVs rolling in like goddamn storm clouds, driving just a little too fast, parking just a little too close.
My jaw tightens. Nico Agosti doesn’t believe in subtlety. Or respect.
I don’t reach for my gun. I won’t give Nico the satisfaction. He wouldn’t dare try anything. Not here. Not with his father still clinging to power and the Bratva watching every move.
My senses are sharp; I notice every detail in my periphery.
The first SUV door opens. Then the second. Then the third. One by one, six bodyguards step out—jacked, suited, all wearing an unmistakable air of overcompensation. Expensive watches. The obvious outline of a weapon under each of their jackets. Dark sunglasses.
Then Nico emerges.
He’s in his early thirties, handsome in a way that probably works on club girls and Instagram models. His hair is slicked back, and he wears a charcoal pinstripe suit with shiny loafers and a watch that screams new money. His smirk is all teeth and ego, and he walks like he owns the goddamn world.
His cockiness will be his undoing.
“Morning,” I say dryly. “Was bringing the cavalry really necessary?”
He spreads his arms, cocky and defensive, like a teenager trying to act tough when he’s been caught with his daddy’s car. “You wanted a meeting,” he says. “Let’s meet.”
I don’t move. “How the fuck did you get into my private garage?”
He grins, teeth glinting. “I can get into wherever I need to go. You should keep that in mind.”
I let out a low chuckle as I reach into my pocket. Three of his men tense immediately, hands flying to their weapons. One of them takes half a step forward.
“Jumpy fuckers, aren’t they?” I say, amused, pulling out my keys and jingling them in the air. “Relax. I’ve got plans this morning. So let’s keep this little soap opera moving.”
Nico’s face flushes, rage climbing into his cheeks like he’s about to explode. “You disrespectful prick.”
I grin wider. God, it’s too easy.
I’m in his face before any of them can blink. My pistol presses under Nico’s chin, steel to skin. The little bastard freezes like a rat caught mid-scamper.
“Disrespectful?” I say, voice calm and lethal. “Let me explain something to you, Agosti. You don’t get to show up in my garage with a goddamn entourage, threaten me with your goons, and call me disrespectful.”
His bodyguards shift uncomfortably, weapons drawn, but they don’t make a move.
They know who and what I am.
I lean in. “Does your father know you pulled this little stunt? That you just accosted the head of the Bratva in his own territory?”
His face pales. He doesn’t answer.
I press the muzzle a little harder. “That’s what I thought.
I don’t give a fuck how sick he is, Nico.
He’s still the don. Not you. You might be playing dress-up in his shoes, but they don’t fit.
And if he dies while you’re pulling this kind of shit…
” I smile coldly “...I’ll explain to the Commission why there’s suddenly a power vacuum on the north side. ”
He swallows hard.
“Now,” I continue, pulling the gun away but keeping it in my hand, “you’re going to deliver a message for me. You tell Don Agosti I’ll be at his home tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock. We’ll sit down like the civilized men we pretend to be and discuss the little boundary issues we’ve been having.”
Nico nods once, eyes still locked on my pistol.
“And if your men so much as breathe in my direction again,” I add, “I’ll kill you first, just to make a point.”
I step away, placing the gun at my back as I pivot toward my car. I don’t look over my shoulder. They won’t follow.
Just before I slide into the driver’s seat, I turn to give him one last look. “Be at the meeting tomorrow, Nico.” My voice is calm, but the warning beneath it cuts like glass. “You won’t want to miss it.”
I get in, shut the door, and drive away.
This city is mine.
And I’m done asking nicely.