Chapter 30 Tony
Tony
Adrian Belmont looks like a man who’s stopped sleeping.
I spot him the moment I enter the private club in Knightsbridge, seated in a leather wingback chair near the fireplace with a glass of whiskey he hasn’t touched.
He’s lost even more weight since the surveillance photos were taken. His suit hangs looser on his frame, and dark circles carve hollows beneath his eyes. The composed art dealer I first met seven weeks ago has been replaced by someone running on fumes and obsession.
Good.
Unstable enemies make mistakes.
The club itself is exactly the kind of place Adrian would choose.
Old money aesthetic, dark wood paneling, and portraits of stern-faced men who probably exploited half the Empire cover the walls.
Members speak in haughty voices over expensive drinks, conducting business deals they’d never admit to in public.
I’ve been in a dozen places like this across Europe, and they all smell the same.
Leather, cigars, and barely concealed corruption.
I cross the room with my hands visible and my posture relaxed.
Boris has a team positioned outside, monitoring every exit and tracking Adrian’s security detail.
Two of his men linger near the bar, trying to look casual and failing miserably.
A third stands by the service entrance. Amateur hour compared to Kozlov operations, but I’m not here to critique his staffing choices.
Adrian doesn’t stand to greet me as I make my approach. “You’re late, Tony.”
“Traffic.” I take a seat in the chair across from him and signal the waiter for a drink. “London’s gotten worse since I was last here.”
“Cut the small talk.” Adrian leans forward, and I notice his fingers trembling around his glass. “Where is she?”
“Sasha’s meeting with former colleagues from Christie’s. Reconnecting with old friends, catching up on industry gossip. She thinks we’re here for a romantic getaway. A chance to get away from her brothers’ constant surveillance.”
“And she believed that?”
“Why wouldn’t she? I’ve spent weeks building her trust.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue, but I deliver it smoothly. “She’s convinced I’m just a journalist who happened to save her life at that gallery. The poor little rich girl, desperate for someone who sees her as more than a Kozlov.”
Adrian’s mouth curves into something that might be a smile on a healthier face. “Tell me more. I want details.”
“About what specifically?”
“Her emotional state. Her relationship with her brothers. Whether the wedge you’ve been driving is working.” He finally takes a sip of his whiskey. “I’m not paying you for vague reassurances, Tony. I want proof that my investment is yielding returns.”
I accept my drink from the waiter and take a moment to organize my thoughts. Every word out of my mouth needs to sound plausible without giving Adrian anything he can use.
“She’s pulling away from Dmitri,” I begin. “Questioning his decisions, pushing back against his overprotective tendencies. Last week, she told me she’s tired of being treated like a child who needs constant supervision.”
“That’s hardly news. Sasha’s always chafed under her brothers’ control.”
“True. But now she has somewhere else to direct that frustration. She talks to me about things she can’t discuss with them. Her fears, her doubts, and her resentment about being dragged back into the family business when she’d built a life here in London.”
Adrian sets down his glass and steeples his fingers. “Does she talk about me?”
The question catches me off guard, though I don’t let it show. “Occasionally. She feels guilty about what happened to you. Wonders if she handled the situation correctly.”
“Guilty.” Adrian repeats the word like he’s tasting it.
“She should feel guilty. She destroyed everything I built. My career, my reputation, and my standing in the art world. Twenty years of work, gone because a spoiled Bratva princess decided to play detective. I had to rebuild everything. I’m still rebuilding it. ”
I say nothing. Let him talk. The more he reveals, the more ammunition I have.
“Do you know what it’s like to lose everything, Tony?” Adrian continues. “To watch your life’s work crumble because someone you trusted decided you weren’t worth protecting?”
“I have some idea.”
He snorts and retorts, “No. You don’t. Sasha didn’t just report my activities to Christie’s management. She went to law enforcement. Interpol. She made sure I could never work in this industry again, anywhere in the world.”
“She was thorough.”
“She was vindictive.” Adrian’s composure cracks for just a moment before he pulls it back together. “But that’s fine. I’ve had time to plan my response. And unlike Sasha, I don’t make moves without ensuring victory.”
“Speaking of which.” I lean back in my chair and cross my ankle over my knee. “You mentioned you’ve been building alliances. Care to elaborate?”
Adrian eyes me for a long moment, and I can see him weighing how much to reveal. Whatever he sees in my face must satisfy him, because he nods.
“The Kozlovs have made enemies across Europe. Families they’ve pushed out of territories.
Organizations they’ve undercut or absorbed.
Individuals who lost power or money or loved ones because Dmitri decided to expand his empire.
” Adrian’s eyes gleam with something that looks disturbingly close to excitement.
“I’ve spent the past months reaching out to those enemies. Coordinating. Planning.”
“A coalition.”
“A reckoning.” He finishes his whiskey and tosses the glass onto the table.
“Every organization I’ve contacted has agreed to contribute resources.
Money, weapons, intelligence, manpower. When we move against the Kozlovs, it won’t be a surgical strike.
It will be a complete dismantling of everything they’ve built. ”
My stomach turns, but I keep my face schooled. “That’s ambitious.”
“It’s necessary. Dmitri is too powerful to take down with half-measures. His organization is too entrenched, his allies too numerous. The only way to destroy the Kozlovs is to hit them from every direction at once, with enough force that they can’t recover.”
“And where does Sasha fit into this grand plan?”
Adrian’s smile returns, and this time, it reaches his eyes in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Sasha is the key to everything. Her brothers would burn the world to protect her. When I have her, I have leverage over the entire organization.”
“When you have her?” I repeat, tilting my head to the side.
“That’s why you’re here, Tony. That’s what I’m paying you for. I don’t just want intelligence about the Kozlovs. I want Sasha. Isolated from her family, vulnerable, and delivered to me so I can show her exactly what it feels like to lose everything you care about.”
Every instinct screams at me to reach across the space between us and wrap my hands around his throat. Instead, I take a slow sip of my drink and nod.
“That’s going to take more time. She’s not completely isolated yet.”
“Then work faster.” Adrian barks out, drawing looks from those around us. “I’ve waited two years for this. I won’t wait much longer.”
“Rushing will only make her suspicious. If she figures out what’s happening before we’re ready to move—”
“Then make sure she doesn’t figure it out.” Adrian stands abruptly, signaling that our meeting is over. “I want her ready for extraction before you leave the city. Do whatever you need to do to make that happen.”
He leaves without another word with his security detail falling into step behind him.
I sit alone in the club for another ten minutes, nursing my drink and letting my heart rate return to normal.
The waiter refills my glass without being asked, and I stare at the amber liquid while replaying every word Adrian said.
He’s not just angry. He’s unhinged. The kind of obsession he’s nursing doesn’t respond to reason or negotiation. It only ends one way.
I pay the tab and head back to the hotel.
Sasha is waiting in the suite when I arrive, reclining on the sofa with her tablet. She’s changed into pajamas already, and her hair is loose around her shoulders. She looks up as I enter. The worry on her face makes something twist in my chest.
“How did it go?” she asks.
“About as well as expected.” I shed my jacket and drop onto the sofa beside her. “Adrian’s worse than the surveillance photos suggested. He’s completely fixated on destroying your family, and he doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process.”
“Did he reveal anything useful?”
“He confirmed the coalition. Multiple organizations across Europe, all contributing resources for a coordinated strike against Kozlov operations.” I run a hand through my hair. “He wants total destruction, Sasha. Every territory, every business interest, every ally your brothers have cultivated.”
She absorbs this information without visible reaction, but I notice the way her fingers curl around her tablet. “Did he mention a timeline?”
“He wants me to deliver you before we leave London.”
Her eyebrows climb as she asks, “Deliver me?”
“His words.” I reach over and take her hand. “He sees you as leverage. A way to control your brothers while his coalition tears apart everything they’ve built.”
“Then we need to move faster than he expects.”
We spend the next two hours going over every detail of my conversation with Adrian.
Sasha asks pointed questions about the organizations he mentioned, cross-referencing names against information Boris provided.
We debate possible strategies, timeline considerations, and contingency plans if the operation goes sideways.
She pulls up maps of London on her tablet, marking locations where Adrian might feel safe enough to expose himself.
Somewhere around the third hour, the tactical discussion fades into something else.
“I keep thinking about what happens after,” Sasha admits. She’s moved closer to me on the sofa and tucked her legs beneath her, and her shoulder is flush against mine. “Assuming we stop Adrian. Assuming everyone survives. What then?”
“I don’t know.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer, breathing in her scent. “I’ve spent so long thinking about the immediate threat that I haven’t let myself imagine beyond it.”
“That’s very CIA of you.”
“Former CIA,” I correct. “And yes, it is. We were trained to focus on the mission at hand. Planning for the future was considered a distraction.”
“That sounds lonely.”
“It was.” I press my lips to her hair. “Until you.”
She tilts her head to look at me, and the vulnerability in her eyes makes my breath catch. “Tony…”
“I know you’ve been dodging this conversation, Sasha, but…I meant it when I said I’m scared. Not of Adrian, not of the coalition, not of whatever violence is coming. I’m scared of losing you before we have a chance to figure out what this is.”
“You’re afraid of this?”
“Us.” I cup her face with my free hand, brushing my thumb across her cheekbone. “I didn’t expect you, Sasha. I didn’t expect any of this. And the thought of something happening to you because of Adrian’s obsession, because of my involvement in his plan…”
“Hey.” She covers my hand with hers. “I’m scared too. I’d be stupid not to be. But I trust you to have my back when things get dangerous. I trust you to choose me over whatever Adrian is offering.”
“I already have. Every day since I realized what you mean to me.”
She leans in and kisses me softly. I return it gently at first, then with growing heat as she shifts to straddle my lap. Her fingers thread through my hair, and I grip her hips to pull her closer until there’s no space left between us.
“We should probably get some sleep,” she murmurs against my mouth.
“Probably.” I don’t let go of her.
“Early morning tomorrow. Boris wants a full debrief before we make our next move.”
“I know.” I trail kisses down her neck, and she shivers against me. Her pulse flutters beneath my lips, and I feel her fingers tighten in my hair. “Just a few more minutes. Let me have this. Let me have you, just for a little while longer, before everything goes to hell.”
She answers by kissing me again, deeper this time, and I lose myself in the taste of her tongue. When she takes my hand and leads me toward the bedroom, I follow without a word.
Adrian and his coalition can wait until morning.