Chapter 8 – Eduard
I knew she was there.
I didn’t stop playing.
I couldn’t bring myself to turn around; my body already acknowledged her presence too much for my liking. The moment she stepped between the crack of the double doors, my peripheral vision caught her.
I had expected her to turn around the moment she saw me playing. The opposite was what she did. She stood there, as if the sound was so enticing. And I couldn’t deny that it began to feel like I was playing for her. Like I wanted her to actually enjoy the music.
It was maddening.
She wasn’t supposed to have access to these parts of the house at all.
In fact, I should have asked for her to be sent to another property, anywhere but my primary residence.
But, instead, I asked my men to unlock her room and give her access to the estate’s common rooms. My stated reason had been that it would be easier to manage her movement that way.
When she eventually left, I told myself I didn’t feel it. That it had no effect on me whatsoever.
But it did.
I kept playing without faltering, but her face was already etched in my mind. I didn’t stop playing, willing the sound to accompany her back to her room.
When I had played to my satisfaction, I stood up and stepped away from the piano.
Now I would never touch the piano without seeing her face, softened by something that looked like wonder, pressed against the door.
***
Getting to the warehouse just after dawn was not an option; my day was packed with activities. While I was never the type to complain about tight schedules, I particularly relished them these days. They gave me much-needed moments of normalcy, away from Marielle.
“Boss! Good morning, Boss!” my men greeted as I entered the warehouse, heading straight to the back.
I pushed the metal door open, getting the attention of the two men standing at the center of the room.
“Good morning, Boss,” they chorused.
I moved my pointed forefinger to the side, signaling for them to step aside.
The guy strapped to a chair looked up at me, large beads of sweat dripping down his face. From where I stood, I could see the head of the other guy whose chair faced the opposite side.
“So…you both are the daredevils. The dogs bold enough to enter my den.”
“We didn’t do anything! Do you own the port?” the guy facing me retorted, earning a slap that turned his head to the side from one of my men.
I tutted, facing the guy who slapped him.
“He’s right. After all, he doesn’t know who I am.”
I moved closer to the conjoined chairs, bending lower to be eye-level with the guy who spoke.
“My bad, I skipped the introductions. I’m Eduard Yezhov.”
His eyes moved like he was trying to understand something while the other guy, facing away from us, shouted, “The Russian Yezhov brothers! Oh, my God. We didn’t know! I swear, we didn’t know!”
“Hmm, it doesn’t really matter if you know or not. The people who sent you know exactly who I am.”
I straightened, taking a few steps to the side where I could see both of them.
“I have just a few questions for you. Now, I’m not going to give you the promise of freedom for answering my questions. The only thing I can assure you of is that refusing to answer a question or not answering adequately will bring you punishment.”
Folding my arms, I asked, “For how long have you been here?”
“Here? You mean…this warehouse?” the second guy asked.
“One more stupid question and you’ll be covered in blood. Both of you.”
“We started monitoring your shipment from the port last week,” the first guy rushed.
I nodded before asking, “What was the plan?”
Then, after a moment of silence, I called, “Guys. Stand by each of them with your knives. I’ll count to three before you remove one eye each.”
“We’re talking…we’re talking,” the second guy answered.
“One….”
“We were going to find a way to follow your men to your warehouse…” he stuttered.
“Two….”
“The plan was to see the type of machinery you sell and find out who your highest-paying clients are,” the first guy divulged.
“For what purpose?”
“We were going to sell the info to the person who sent us.”
“And who is this person?” I pressed.
“He’s an independent supplier. We didn’t exchange names, but he has an alias. Mandy,” the first guy revealed.
“Right. I guess it makes sense for an arms supplier to want to get ahead of the Bratva, even though it’ll never be more than a wasted effort. Now, the question is, why did he send you? Who are you both?”
“I’m just an intermediary for covert exchanges. Leonardo asked me to join forces with him because of my knowledge of the secret passage,” the first guy answered.
“Do you need me to nudge you, Leonardo?”
“I…I’m a soldier under…the Italian Mafia,” he revealed.
“Ah, interesting,” I commented, my lips curving in a small grin. “I don’t suppose Matteo and his underboss gave their approval for this mission of yours.”
I turned to my men again.
“How far did they get? Where did you catch them?”
“They managed to escape the cameras until they got to the first store. They had taken one of the guards down and were struggling with the other one when we heard their noise. We captured them immediately and brought them here,” the one standing over Leonardo explained.
“They killed a soldier…” I thought out loud.
“Yes, Boss.”
“Well, they hadn’t gotten to my merchandise, luckily for them. Kill him,” I said, pointing to Leonardo’s partner.
“As for Leonardo, shoot his leg and make sure he gets to Matteo with a note about this mission.”
The Italian Mafia was one of the real ones; we were rivals because we were so alike.
Hearing that one of them interfered with the Russian Mafia was the kind of bad news they never wanted to hear.
We were two formidable authorities that respected each other from a distance.
The current Don, Matteo Guilio, would surely give Leonardo a slow and painful death.
“If he dies before getting there, make sure you don’t come back to me.”
“Yes, Boss!”
I left the room, their agitated pleas fading.
I had barely gotten into my office when Ivan came knocking.
“Boss, the goods have gotten to Tijuana. Ishmael wants to speak with you,” he revealed.
“Right on time,” I mused as he positioned the laptop on my desk. “Put me on.”
The minimized tab filled the screen, Ishmael’s freckled face staring at me.
“Eduard!” he greeted.
“Ishmael. I see you’ve gotten your delivery.”
“Yes. Yes. Just as discussed, as usual,” he enthused.
“Always the intention.” I noticed the white dusting at the corner of his lips. “Don’t tell me you already had a taste this soon, Ishmael.”
“Of course! How else do I verify it’s good stuff?” he defended, his green eyes smiling.
“I see,” I concurred, nodding at the elderly man.
“The previous batch was so good I wasn’t sure this one would meet that standard. But it did. It’s just as good. I owe you some Coheba sticks, Eduard. I’ll bring it myself on one of my trips over there soon. Or do you prefer Mayan cigarettes?”
“Either one is fine, Ishmael. You know I’m more of a drinker than a smoker. Thank you.”
“No, no. Thank you, Eduard. Nice deals, always.”
“Thanks. We’ll be expecting your next order.”
“Sure, sure!”
“Have a nice one.”
“Wait! On second thought, do you want a nice Mexican girl instead of those cigarettes? You know, to ease your stress now and then,” he offered, his eyebrow shifting mischievously.
I laughed.
“I can have my pick of ladies here, Ishmael. Besides, you know how I feel about trafficking.”
“True. Expect my Coheba sticks, then.”
“Thanks. Bye, Ishmael.”
I ended the call, and Ivan retrieved the laptop.
“You already heard, no issues,” I related.
“Yes, sir.” He nodded. “You have an appointment with Aiden Walker by 2:00.”
“Okay. Send Leonid here.”
“Yes, Boss.”
***
As I left my office later that night, Ivan asked, “Are we going to the club or the estate?”
Going to the club to unwind was my usual on Friday nights.
It was something I’d never admit, but as much as I was glad to be away from the house, I had been subconsciously counting down to when I’d be back there.
She was already wielding her power over my mind; I couldn’t let her have power over my schedules. I couldn’t begin to change plans because of her.
So, I told Ivan, “To the club.”
This was one of those nights that proved my claim that going to the club wasn’t about the drinks. It was about the change of scenery, the ambiance in the pulsating beats.
Rolling my sleeves up, I relaxed into the chair once I got to my regular corner spot in the VIP area.
A tall waitress with a blinding smile walked over to me.
“What can I get you, sir?” she asked, her tone suggestively low.
The undone buttons of her white shirt showed more cleavage than should be allowed.
“My usual.”
“Okay, sir. I’ll be back to satisfy your needs in a minute,” she assured before turning around, purposefully swaying her hips.
Of course, she knew who I was.
It wasn’t news that I liked pretty girls. But what this waitress seemed to be missing was the knowledge that I didn’t mix business with pleasure; I never got intimate with waitresses.
“Hey, handsome.”
I heard the soft voice before I saw the face.
A lady dressed in a maroon slip dress approached me, setting herself right in the space beside me on the velvet couch. She was bold, alright.
“Hi,” I answered, my eyes raking over her dark red lips, down to the low neck of her dress, and her exposed legs.
She was stunning, very sexy.
But there was a tiny problem.
Her red dress drew my mind to Marielle’s brighter dress—the one she was wearing the first time I saw her, the one she had on when she was on the floor, glaring at me with that pretty face.
The waitress came with my drink before either of us could say anything more. I noticed the displeasure on her face as she looked at the pretty lady; she probably thought she was my date.
Once the waitress turned around, the pretty lady turned to face me totally.
“So…here to relax after a busy day?”
“What makes you say so?” I asked, chuckling.
She twirled a lock of her black hair with her fingers as she spoke. “Let’s just say you look like a stressed work machine…. So, I was wondering if you’d be down to work out your stress,” she slurred.
I moved forward, lifting my glass.
“And how do you intend to do that?”
She smiled sweetly before emptying her champagne flute and leaning over to drop it on the table.
“I have a feeling you know what I’m talking about,” she whispered, her hand sliding down my chest.
I thought of the feeling of Marielle’s finger doing the same thing to me.
She hooked her finger into the buckle of my belt, and I dropped my glass on the table, trying to act unaffected.
“What do you say?” she asked, her hand gripping my semi-hard dick through my pants.
I held in a gasp.
With her lower lip between her teeth, she slid down on the chair.
Just as she bent with her mouth close to my zipper, Marielle’s face popped up.
Fuck!
I was crazy with anger and desire.
Here I was with a pretty lady willing to have me blow my load down her throat, and Marielle wouldn’t leave my mind.
It wasn’t this lady I wanted.
Furious with both my body and mind, I shot up to my feet.
“What’s the issue?” the lady asked, shocked.
“Gotta go.”
I went straight to my gym after changing out of my clothes.
With every weight I lifted and every string I pulled, I flushed out every thought of her from my mind.
By the time I left the gym, a quick shower and sleep were all I had on my mind.
It worked.
***
I was wrong.
I knew that as soon as I woke up on Saturday morning.
I found myself wondering what she was doing. I had to stop myself from going to the piano or just strolling down her hallway just to catch a glimpse of her.
She was taking up too much space in my head; it was dangerous.
Getting out of a mountain of paperwork early in the afternoon, I went to the study.
I was right in the middle of the study when I saw her.
Her turquoise blue joggers did nothing to hide the flair of her hips, and the tiny hot pink top brightened her beautiful face. Her hair was styled in a low ponytail that made her blonde hair swing behind her.
Her surprised expression morphed into one of daring defiance as her eyes landed on me. She didn’t slow down or stop walking; I didn’t either.
I couldn’t say if I extended my hand more than normal.
But our fingers brushed as she got to me.
The feel of her warm skin against mine lingered. I couldn’t ignore it.
I closed in on her, forcing her to lean her back slightly against a shelf.
“Don’t tempt me. You don’t know what you’re asking for,” I grated against her ears.
Her only response was a smirk. Then she walked away.
***
“They said he should be dead by now, with the way his capo was looking at him,” Viktor disclosed, chuckling.
“That would mean he’s lucky,” I remarked, not looking up from the report I was reading.
“Boss, Navarro hasn’t lifted a finger yet. I don’t think he’s so interested in keeping her safe,” Leonid informed.
“No signs of planning a retaliation?”
“No, Boss. We’ve kept a close watch on him and his men. It’s just been business as usual there.”
“And we’ve not received any call from him, either,” Viktor added.
“Maybe he just doesn’t care. She’s not his wife,” Leonid offered.
The thought of him—or anyone at all—not caring about her twisted my stomach in some kind of way. It made me hate Navarro more. Not that the image of him smiling lovingly with her made me hate him less.
“Or he’s biding time. Maybe he’s waiting for us to let our guards down before he swoops in like a hawk,” I mentioned.
They both nodded in agreement.
“He’ll wait forever, then,” Viktor uttered.
“Don’t stop watching them, either. The bastard has nothing to lose; he might be planning to go all out,” I instructed.
“Yes, Boss.”
“You can leave now.”
I didn’t get up from my seat behind the desk until later that evening.
Once I did, I went straight to the security monitors.
There she was, the vixen that was taking my mind captive. She was sitting on the hallway floor, bent over a book, her legs wrapped in a blanket.
My eyes remained fixed on the screen, watching her unmoving body, imagining what it would feel like to sweep the hair covering the side of her face away.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I left the office and went straight to my bedroom.
I found it hard to sleep.
When I eventually did, different images of Marielle bombarded me. I dreamt of her pressed beneath me, her skin melding with mine, in my bed. I could hear her voice as she pleaded for mercy as I tortured her with my body.
I woke up covered in sweat. I didn’t need to look down; the throbbing sensation in my dick said it all.
I sighed in shame.
What is she doing to me?