Chapter 9
JESS
The pork bao buns in the canteen are incredible, but I have no appetite for them now.
I twirl the bun in my hand, spilling teriyaki sauce all over my hands. I abandon the food and suck excess sauce off my finger. And now my mind is veering to other…liquids that I could suck.
I wipe my mouth and open my laptop. In a world full of business sharks, I have to look like I’m making good use of my time, not throwing it away as my mind reels over that knife.
I had to get out of my office this afternoon. The documents my line manager asked me to read are still unread. I didn’t feel like reading, but I did feel like an afternoon snack to take my mind off things.
Now I feel sick.
Something shady is going on and I cannot, under any circumstance, let this affect my children.
What if signing that NDA makes me an accessory to crime?
What if they lock me up and my kids grow up orphaned, thinking their birth mom killed someone?
“Miss Rawcliffe?”
I smell his aftershave before I hear him.
My fingers pause on the keypad as I’m typing in my login. I turn around and freeze at the giant man standing behind me, taller and wider than a giant sequoia.
“Mr. Medvedev. Is everything okay?”
“I think you know that it isn’t.”
Fuck.
“Please follow me. I’d like to have a word with you in private.”
Shiiit. He definitely saw me through the window looking at the knife. He wouldn’t be here now if he didn’t know that I saw. Which means the guy holding the knife is an employee here at Sterling.
Time to start hyperventilating again.
He escorts me into the elevator, and now I’m freaking out a thousand times more than I was this morning.
Confined space. Alone in the elevator with my boss.
My breath hitches when I imagine all of the possible things he could do to me in this elevator.
He could kill me for seeing something I shouldn’t have.
Or he could fuck me. Confined spaces and height seem to be our thing.
“This way, please, Miss Rawcliffe.”
I follow him into his office—the same one I entered when I had my introductory meeting.
He pulls a seat out for me and takes one himself behind his desk. The Boston skyline is behind him. Everything up here is so still. The city almost looks like a painting.
“Let’s cut to the chase shall we, Miss Rawcliffe?” Nadir sits back in his chair, the leather squeaking. “I often find it to be the best way.”
Sure, we’ll do it his way and get started immediately.
I clench my hands under the desk and completely lose it. I have three children to parent, and I work in a place where employees bring knives into meetings?
Nadir definitely knows about the knife. He’s the one who probably handed it over to the employee in the first place.
“You forced me to sign a nondisclosure without disclosing everything.”
Nadir narrows his eyes. “I didn’t force you to do anything, Miss Rawcliffe. If I remember correctly, you were the one who applied to work here.”
“Yes,” I snap. “Because I thought this was a legitimate business.”
My blood is boiling so much that I feel it turning into steam.
Nadir pins me with a cold glare, but I’m unaffected this time. I’m too fucking angry.
“What the fuck is going on here?” I return his gaze, waiting impatiently for his response. “Hm? Answer me. Let’s cut to the chase, shall we, since you find it to be the best way. You know I saw the knife in the conference room.”
I was sold lies when I applied to this company. I read the job description, I researched the business, and I saw nothing about knives or restricted access, or exchanging concealed items down the corridor.
Nadir remains still in his chair, like this is just another day for him.
That enrages me even more.
He sticks his elbows on the desk and laces his hands. “You don’t miss a thing, do you, Jessy?”
Not this again.
“It’s Jess.”
“I will call you whatever I want.”
I’m afraid that’s true. I don’t know what the fuck he has in those desk drawers aside from company pens. But I don’t want to find out.
“Sterling Row Partners is a business front,” he says calmly.
“A business front for what?” I press, like I don’t already know the answer myself.
“The Russian mafia.”
I bite my lip, needing an anchor.
“I will not be a part of—”
“Relax.” Nadir unclasps his hands and reclines into his seat again. “You working here doesn’t automatically mean you are part of my syndicate. You contribute to the front, and you keep the business looking legitimate.”
“I’m sorry?” I narrow my eyes. “Did you just say your syndicate?”
“I’m the owner of the company, Jessy. That would make me the owner of the syndicate.”
What the actual fuck is happening right now?
I blink repeatedly in an attempt to come to terms with everything. But now I’m even more confused. And scared. And deeper in the shit.
I laugh. “Right. So this is why Sterling Row Partners is the biggest firm in the city?”
“In the state,” he corrects.
I roll my eyes. It’s basically the same thing. He doesn’t need to keep correcting me.
“The only way to get ahead in life, Jessy, is to play unfair.” His stare deepens.
“Rules are set by those who play unfair. And because those people live at the top of society, they get to dictate and create rules for everyone else.” Nadir sits forward, slightly amused.
“If you play by the rules, you never win.”
I feel his gaze deep in my soul and it’s making me uneasy. I break eye contact and look at my shaking hands instead.
I’ve been working as a nanny for most of my life—all very legal. I pay my dues, my bills, sleep, and repeat the cycle again the next day.
I don’t need to play unfair to get ahead.
I don’t.
“I pay my employees good money and they have good, carefree lives.” More lines appear across Nadir’s brow, his stare deepening. “By the way—the nondisclosure agreement is for life, just so you’re aware.”
To put it simply—I’m sworn to silence for the rest of my life.
“What happens if I break the agreement?”
Nadir sits back, amusement returning to his face. “We’ll leave that one up to your imagination.”
Right.
“Are you going to tell me what happened in the meeting?”
“No.”
“Do you always bring weapons to conferences?”
“It depends on the client,” he answers.
“Are those some of your big clients?” I raise a brow at him. “You know, the ones you deal with personally?”
That word now has an entirely different meaning behind it.
“Those men we were meeting with are not clients.”
“Then who are they?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
I look through the floor-to-ceiling window past Nadir. What else about this city is a lie? How many other organized crime groups are out there, running business fronts? What about the rich parents I nannied for? Do they leave their kids with me so they can carry out a hit-and-run?
My paychecks are the result of money laundering, and God knows what else.
I cannot get tied up in this. Safety comes first.
“What does Sterling Row Partners mean?”
“Nothing.”
Nadir’s one-word answers are really starting to piss me off.
“You don’t give a fuck about anybody else but yourself, do you?”
He hitches a dark brow, making another observation. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
“Don’t,” I warn him.
“Still the same fierce young woman you were six years ago, bruising an old man’s ego.” He angles his head to the side in assessment. “Why are you so angry?”
“Because you’re killing people.”
“You saw a knife and drew your own conclusions, Miss Rawcliffe. You do not know the first thing about my dealings.”
“I can take a wild fucking guess.”
Steam may as well be coming out of my ears at this point. The fucking audacity of this guy. He brought an entire crime gang into existence, and the only thing he has to say about it is that I’m wrong about their “dealings.”
He is killing people. I just can’t prove it yet.
“Everyone who works here signs the NDA, takes the money—no questions asked—and lets me carry out my business,” Nadir says. “You, Miss Rawcliffe, are the first person to care.” His eyes zero in on me. “Why is that?”
“Because I’m a normal human being who’s afraid of murder.” I sit back, defeated. “It’s endearing to know that I’m the only one working here with some common decency.”
“Like I said before,” he says, “if you play by the rules, you never win.” He leans forward with an inquisitive look in his eye. “Tell me—what is it you have to lose?”
“A lot.” I seal my lips before I say anything else. “The last thing I need is to get in trouble with the cops. Or worse.”
“If that’s what you’re worried about, you can rest assured,” Nadir says. “That will never happen, trust me.”
I would never put my trust in a Russian mafia leader, not even if he was paying me his own salary.