Chapter 6 -Lev
I lounged on a low leather couch with my legs crossed, arms draped over the headrest in the velvet-roped VIP section. My glass of vodka sat untouched on the table in front of me.
Colored lights slashed across the room in sharp flashes as the relentless base from the DJ’s mix throbbed through the walls, heavy and hypnotic.
Smoke curled lazily around me, and strippers moved in fluid motion along chrome poles, their laughter drowned by the pounding beat. Their smiles were seductive, each move of their alluring naked bodies pulling more gazes like a magnet to steel.
I sat there, detached, physically present but mentally absent. Unlike the other men at the VIP section, entertained by these girls’ seduction, I was lost in thought. My mind was far away, reeling with the different ways to make the Jensens grovel at my feet.
Images of the way Ravyn stood up for her father kept replaying in my head.
Her bravery was quite remarkable. She’d first snapped at me, saying I couldn’t speak to her father like that—that spoiled little brat.
As annoying as that stunt was, I wasn’t expecting anything less, especially because she was as stubborn as a mule.
But that wasn’t even what shocked me the most. It was how she stood in front of her father with arms spread wide, as if her stubborn little boldness could somehow save his life.
Well, in a twisted way, it actually did.
At least because of her, he still had breath in his lungs.
If I were being honest, I was never going to kill him—not right there anyway.
The little mule was right; I wouldn’t get my money if he were dead.
But the real reason I couldn’t have killed him was because his death wasn’t part of my plan.
The marriage proposal wasn’t a last-minute resort as I made it seem. No. It was the actual plan the whole time. It was a carefully orchestrated plot, and they both played straight into it; they followed the script to the letter.
Now I had them in a tight spot—like bugs in the palm of my hand, ready to be crushed whenever I felt like.
They had forty-eight hours to decide, and I was eager to find out what Ravyn’s choice would be. Would she pick her future or her father’s life?
Watching the flame in her eyes fizzle out when I’d given the ultimatum was satisfying as fuck. The look of fear and defeat on her face was priceless. The little girl was playing a dangerous game with a man twice her age—a master with years of experience.
The forty-eight-hour deadline was not out of mercy. That word didn’t exist in my world. It was to watch them break under so much pressure. One would think that Robert wouldn’t sacrifice his daughter’s future to save his life and his empire.
But I begged to differ. I’d been in this game for a really long time, and I’d seen men far stronger than Robert break in situations like this.
He might love his daughter, but he also loved his life, his business, and his reputation.
I was sure he wouldn’t mind her selling herself to get back everything he’d lost.
The offer was in his favor—his twenty-eight million dollar debt would be cleared from the record in an instant. There was no way Robert would let this opportunity pass him by; he didn’t love his daughter enough.
He would either force her to marry me or persuade her to do so. Either way, she’d be mad at his willingness to trade her for his fortune. The girl might agree to my terms, but she’d hate her father for life. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.
Marrying the girl was more than just revenge; it was a means to assume partial or total control of her family’s assets under the guise of a “marital merger.” This union was a silent takeover, cloaked in legitimacy. It was far cleaner than seizing assets by force.
“Lev,” a familiar voice yanked me out of my thoughts. “Lev, are you with me?”
It was Vlad, a Bratva associate of mine.
I blinked back to the present, my gaze settling on him as he sat across from me, cradling a glass of whiskey. Beside him was my younger brother, Viktor, busy making out with two strippers on the couch.
“You haven’t touched your drink,” Vlad said to me, his voice thick with a Russian accent. “You should be celebrating your victory against Robert Jensen and his crazy-ass daughter.” He laughed, sipping from his glass.
I wasn’t sure why, but his casual jab about the Jensen girl didn’t sit well with me. As subtle as his insult was, it made my blood boil; no one else got to speak ill of the girl but me.
My expression darkened, but I didn’t respond to him.
“The situation with the Jensen family is bad, Lev,” he continued, oblivious to how close he’d come to having his jaw broken.
“They’re scraping the bottom of the barrel.
Poor Robert, that unfortunate bastard, his last shipment was hijacked on the highway three hours ago.
Clean job. No survivors in the convoy, no product recovered. ”
I leaned forward, lifted my glass, and took a sip, savoring the vodka in my mouth.
That shipment was Robert’s last hope. It wouldn’t have done much, but it would’ve been enough to settle at least one or two of his other creditors. Now, it was gone, and he was left with nothing—at the mercy of sharks in suits, ready to rip him to shreds.
Robert was in real deep shit; his other creditors would come for him at any moment, wild and dangerous. Suppliers wouldn’t listen to him. Lenders were already slamming their doors, and his name in the market was now poison.
There was no way out of this—unless, of course, he bent the knee and accepted my generous offer. He had nothing left to bargain with. Absolutely nothing.
Vlad drained his glass then set it down with a soft clink. “The man’s as good as dead. He’s finished, and all that’s left is who gets the bone.”
My lips curled into a mischievous, self-satisfied smirk as I swirled my vodka once, slow and deliberate. Raising the glass to my lips, I took a measured sip and leaned back into the couch.
“Brother,” Viktor called, finally dismissing his strippers. “Your wisdom is unprecedented. The way you handled the Jensen family is nothing short of excellent.” He laughed, spanking a stripper’s ass. “That stupid whore thought she could humiliate me and get away with it? Bitch, please.”
My grip tightened around my glass, eyes narrowing at Viktor as I clenched my jaw to control my rage. I shot him a stern glare with a scowl deep enough to scare the hell out of him.
Fear flickered in his eyes as he swallowed hard, knowing full well that he’d crossed a line. Beneath the terror in his gaze was a glint of confusion as to why I was so upset over someone as insignificant as Ravyn Jensen.
I wondered the same thing deep down, but I told myself it was nothing. No one else had the right to make silly or demeaning jokes about her. No one but me. This wasn’t Viktor’s case anymore; it was mine, and everyone knew I didn’t like to share my prey.
Time was running out, and in a few hours from now, I was certain that she’d agree to be my wife. The question remained: Would she do it with that signature fire in her eyes, or tears on her cheeks?