Chapter 16Ivan
CHAPTER 16
IVAN
I sit across from Marcus in my office. The city sprawls below, a maze of glass and steel that holds too many secrets.
He slides a tablet across my desk, his expression grim. “Someone’s definitely feeding Alexei information. Details only the inner circle should know.”
I scroll through the report, my jaw tightening with each revelation. Dates, times, and locations—all matching perfectly with my movements over the past month. “This is too precise to be coincidence.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He leans forward. “The intel’s coming from inside our organization. Someone close. I’m convinced there’s a mole but haven’t had any luck finding him—or her—yet.”
I scowl and tap my fingers against the polished mahogany desk. “Run deep background checks. NSA-level probes on everyone—current employees, former employees, their families, and associates. I want to know what they had for breakfast ten years ago.”
“That’ll take time.” Marcus pulls out his phone, typing rapidly. “We’re talking about hundreds of people, and it might not be any of them.”
“Don’t just limit it to them, of course. Examine everyone—past or present—who’s worked for us and might have a way to get this information. Get started now.” I stand, walking to the window. Atlanta’s skyline stretches before me, but my mind’s on Jenny. If Alexei has an insider, she’s at risk. “Focus on anyone who had access to sensitive information first. Department heads, IT, security.”
“What about the cleaning staff?” asks Marcus. “They’re practically invisible, but they see everything, and we kept most of them on when you took over, since they hadn’t interacted with Ms. Graham.”
“Good point. Add them to the priority list.” I turn back to face him. “If anyone’s hiding anything—gambling debts, affairs, offshore accounts, or hemorrhoids—I want to know about it.”
He nods, his expression hardening. “If someone’s selling us out to Alexei, we’ll find them.”
“Make it happen.” I return to my desk, pulling up the security feed from Jenny’s office. She’s safe, surrounded by my men, but for how long? “Keep this between us for now. The mole might spook if they realize we’re onto them.”
“Understood.” He stands, straightening his jacket. “I’ll start with the most recent terminations and work backward. Someone’s bound to slip up.”
Later that evening, I adjust my tie, scanning the elegant dining room of “The Optimist.” The warm glow of candlelight casts a soft radiance over the polished wood tables and sleek decor. The gentle hum of conversation and clinking glasses creates an intimate atmosphere.
Jenny returns from the bathroom. She wears a deep blue dress that accentuates her curves. My breath catches though I’ve already seen her in it tonight. Every moment, she still takes my breath away.
I stand as she approaches, pulling out her chair once more. “You look stunning.”
“You already said that at the penthouse.” A faint blush colors her cheeks. “But thank you.”
We settle in, perusing the menu. The waiter arrives, and I order a bottle of Chardonnay. “How are you holding up?” I ask, studying her face for signs of stress.
Jenny shrugs, her fingers fidgeting with her napkin. “I’m okay. It’s good to have a normal moment.”
I nod, understanding the weight of recent events. “I hoped this dinner might offer a brief reprieve.”
Her lips curve into a small smile. “I appreciate that.”
The waiter returns with our wine. I sample it, then nod my approval. He pours two glasses before departing.
Jenny takes a sip, her eyes widening. “This is delicious.”
“I’m glad you like it.” I raise my glass. “To new beginnings?”
She hesitates before clinking her glass against mine. “To new beginnings.”
We order our meals—the wood-grilled swordfish for her, and the New York strip for me. As we wait, I try to steer the conversation to lighter topics. “Tell me about your favorite vacation,” I say.
Jenny’s eyes light up. “Oh, that’s easy. A few years ago, I took a solo trip to Greece. I spent two weeks island hopping, exploring ancient ruins, and eating my weight in feta cheese.”
I chuckle, imagining her wandering sun-drenched streets. “That sounds incredible. What was your favorite part?”
“Santorini,” she says without hesitation. “The sunsets there... I’ve never seen anything like them. The sky turns into this canvas of oranges and pinks, reflecting off the white buildings. It’s magical.”
Her enthusiasm is contagious, and I smile. “I’ve never been to Greece. Perhaps we could go someday.”
Jenny’s expression falters slightly, reminding me of the precarious nature of our relationship. “Maybe,” she says softly.
Our food arrives, momentarily distracting us. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, savoring the expertly prepared dishes.
“This swordfish is amazing,” she says, closing her eyelids when she takes another bite.
I nod in agreement. “So is the steak. The chef here is truly talented.”
As we continue eating, she becomes pensive, pushing food around her plate.
“Is everything all right?” I ask gently.
She takes a deep breath, setting down her fork. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Always.”
She traces the edge of her wineglass. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my past relationships. Not just Stephen, but...all of them.”
I lean forward, giving her my full attention. “I’m listening.”
“I’ve always thought if I gave enough, if I just tried harder, they’d change,” she says, her voice quiet but steady. “All I ever did was lose more of myself.”
My jaw clenches, anger rising at the thought of anyone hurting her. “Jenny, you don’t have to?—”
She holds up a hand, stopping me. “No, I need to say this. Stephen wasn’t the first. There was a pattern, you see. Men who seemed charming at first, but then...”
She takes a sip of wine, as if she’s bracing herself. “It started with small things. Criticizing my clothes or my friends. Then it escalated. One boyfriend ‘accidentally’ broke my phone when he saw a text from a male coworker. Another constantly accused me of cheating, even though I never did.”
My hands curl into fists under the table. I force myself to remain calm, to let her speak, and not demand the name of every one of them—though I already know after investigating her background—so I can strangle each one personally.
“I kept thinking it was my fault. If I was just better, more attentive, more understanding... Maybe they wouldn’t get so angry. I’d make excuses for their behavior, hide the bruises...” She trails off, clearly lost in painful memories.
I reach across the table, gently taking her hand. “None of that was your fault. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
She gives me a sad smile. “I know that now, but for so long, I believed I did. That’s why I stayed with Stephen for as long as I did. I thought I could fix him, fix us , but all I did was lose myself in the process.”
I squeeze her hand gently. “You’re incredibly strong, Jenny. To have survived all that and still be the compassionate, brilliant woman you are is remarkable.”
Jenny’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “Thank you. I’m trying to believe that. To trust myself again.”
In an effort to distract her, and give her a chance to compose herself, I say, “‘Silver Fox Productions’ always had a holiday party, right?”
She nods. “They were usually really nice.”
“I think you can do better than nice,” I say with a smile. “I’d like you to head up organizing it.”
Her eyes widen. “But…Christmas is in three weeks. How can I get everything prepared in time?”
“With assistants and an unlimited budget, most things happen almost like magic.” I chuckle at her surprised look. “I’m putting all my resources at your disposal, so what do you envision for the party?”
Jenny shifts in her seat, her eyes brightening as she leans forward. “The Christmas party could be amazing. We should do it at ‘The Georgian Terrace.’ Their grand ballroom would be perfect.”
I study her animated expression, captivated by how her entire face lights up when she’s excited about something. Her enthusiasm is compelling despite my natural skepticism about large gatherings.
“‘The Georgian Terrace’ is quite exposed,” I point out. “Security would be challenging.”
“That’s what makes it perfect.” Jenny taps her fingers on the table. “It’s so public, so visible. Even Alexei wouldn’t try anything there. Plus, the architecture is stunning—those crystal chandeliers, the marble columns...”
“You’ve clearly given this some thought.” I don’t necessarily agree that Alexei won’t try something publicly, since his incursion at “Markov Entertainment” a few weeks ago, but I don’t want to detract from her excitement.
“I haven’t really, but they made an impression on me.” She pulls out her phone, scrolling through photos. “Look at these pictures from their New Year’s event last year. We could do something similar but more intimate. String lights everywhere, ice sculptures, and maybe even a live band.”
I lean closer to see the images. The ballroom does look magnificent, transformed into a winter wonderland. “It would make quite an impression on our clients.”
“Exactly. Plus, it would boost employee morale. Everyone’s been so tense lately with all the changes.” Jenny pauses, meeting my eyes. “They need this, Ivan. A chance to relax and celebrate.”
Her sincerity strikes me. Even after everything she’s learned about me, about my world, she still thinks about others first. “Tell me more about your vision for it.”
“Really?” Her smile widens. “I was thinking we could do a ‘Winter in Paris’ theme. Elegant but not stuffy. White tablecloths, silver accents, silk flowers everywhere so I don’t sneeze the whole time...”
I watch her describe every detail—from the menu to the music selection—with such passion and precision. Her hands move animatedly as she speaks, painting pictures in the air.
“The main course should be beef bourguignon. Something hearty but sophisticated. Marcus said you love French cuisine.”
“Marcus has been sharing my secrets?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Only the good ones.” Jenny grins. “He also mentioned you make an incredible coq au vin .”
“Did he now?” I make a mental note to ask Marcus when he’s having these cozy discussions with my…Jenny. “Perhaps I’ll have to make it for you.”
“Yes, please.”
“Then it’s settled.” I settle back in my chair, savoring the moment. “I’ll cook it for you tomorrow night.”
The waiter approaches with our dessert—a dark chocolate soufflé for Jenny and espresso for me. Steam rises from the perfectly formed soufflé as she dips in her spoon.
Her eyes close in pleasure at the first taste. “This is incredible.”
“The chef here trained in Paris.” I watch her savor another bite. “Though I must say, my chocolate mousse might give this soufflé competition.”
Jenny’s spoon pauses halfway to her mouth. “You make desserts too?”
“When the mood strikes.” I take a sip of espresso. “My mentor’s wife insisted I learn the basics of French pastry. Lena said no education was complete without understanding the art of dessert.”
“Tell me more about her.” Jenny sets down her spoon, giving me her full attention. “I know bits and pieces, but not enough to get a true idea of her.”
The memory of Lena’s kind face surfaces. “She was remarkable. The type of woman who could make anyone feel at home with just a smile. Even hardened criminals melted around her.”
She smiles. “They became your family, right?”
“As much as anyone could.” I study the dark liquid in my cup. “Lena taught me to cook, and to appreciate beauty in small things. Vyacheslav taught me Bratva business, strategy, and survival. They gave me purpose when I had none.”
“They sound like they were good for you. She was like a mother, you said?”
“ Da .” I stare at her for a second, debating whether to share Lena’s advice. Finally, I say, “She always said I needed someone who could see past the surface. Someone strong enough to handle the truth of who I am, yet gentle enough to remind me of who I could be.”
Jenny’s fingers tremble slightly when she takes my hand. “And who do you think you could be?”
The question falls between us, heavy with possibility. I study our joined hands, carefully considering my answer. “A better man than I am now.” I meet her gaze. “Someone worthy of trust. Of loyalty. Of love.”
She licks her lips, and though she doesn’t say anything, her tender expression and gentle nod give me hope.