22. Dmitri
Dmitri
Lake water clings to her skin as I pull her close. She feels too good to let go.
“You’re drenching me,” I growl.
“You threw me in first,” she shoots back, still laughing. “Didn’t you say you wanted to cool off?”
“That was before you started torturing me and swimming off every time I got close.”
“I wanted you to chase me.”
I fist her wet hair and tilt her head back. “Mission accomplished.”
Gravel crunches and destroys the moment before it even starts. I groan as a black sedan snakes down the drive. I wasn’t expecting company.
“Who the hell is that?” Katya mutters, snatching for the towel.
“Pavel.” I yank my shirt on, running through every weapon hidden on the grounds. “He’s early.”
“Your security guy? Why’s he here now?”
“Exactly.”
On the walk back, I catch the shift in her. Her shoulders square and her eyes sharpen. Even the towel around her looks less like modesty and more like armor.
Pavel’s early arrival messes up the balance I’ve maintained with Katya. We were supposed to have another day before reality kicked in.
Pavel climbs out in full tactical gear, carrying a briefcase stuffed with enough surveillance equipment to outfit a small army. His face is grim as hell.
“Mr. Kozlov. Mrs. Kozlov.” He nods, his eyes sweeping the area for threats. “Apologies for showing early. We’ve got a situation.”
“Situation?” I ask.
“Government surveillance. Multiple agencies have amped up monitoring on you in the past seventy-two hours.”
Katya stiffens beside me, though she tries to hide it.
“Surveillance of what?” she asks, her voice tight.
“Finances. Communication intercepts. Eyes on your key people.” Pavel flips open his case, and a tablet inside glows with intel. “Your husband is under federal investigation.”
“Since when?” My tone is sharp.
“Months,” he says. “But the past few weeks turned it hot.” He swipes through docs, then eyes Katya. “Mrs. Kozlov… any unusual tails? Cars, faces you don’t recognize?”
She tilts her head thoughtfully and clicks her tongue. “I haven’t noticed. Should I?”
“In your husband’s line of work, awareness is survival. I need access to the property. Same way I did at the house.”
I nod once. “Do it.”
“What do you recommend?” Katya presses.
Pavel studies her for too long. “Enhanced protocols. Full personnel sweep. Background checks on anyone who could be compromised.”
“Including my wife?”
“Especially her. Heat spiked after your marriage. Could be a coincidence; could be her.”
“How would I attract attention?" Katya asks. “I’m nobody important.”
“Sometimes nobody important turns out to be somebody very important who’s been hiding in plain sight.”
His words are vague, but his eyes cut to Katya like it’s personal.
“I want a private assessment with Mrs. Kozlov,” Pavel says. “Test certain scenarios. Gauge her responses. Might show what kind of threat we’re facing.”
“What scenarios?” I demand.
“Basic psychological profiling. Testing to see if she’s been exposed to anything that could compromise you.”
My instinct tells me to shut this down, but saying no makes us look guilty. If Pavel is legitimately trying to assess security risks, his request makes perfect sense.
“Fine. But I watch.”
“Of course. Transparency builds trust.”
My phone cuts in. Alexei’s always had the worst timing, but ignoring him means bigger problems.
“I’ll take this.” I jerk my chin at Pavel and Katya. “Set it up. Don’t start.”
I step away for privacy. “What?”
“Mikhailov deal’s dead,” Alexei barks. “Popov family grabbed it.”
“Why?” My voice grinds.
“Decision-maker says leadership is distracted. The Morozov deal collapsed yesterday, too. Word’s out. The great Dmitri Kozlov is too lovesick to lead.”
Two contracts gone in two days. The money hurts, but the reputation damage could be worse.
“I’m not lovesick,” I growl.
“Then explain the romantic getaway while the empire burns.”
Because what started as revenge is bleeding me dry. And it's costing me everything I built.
“It’s temporary.”
“How temporary? At this rate, nothing will be left. You need to choose: the woman or the empire three generations bled for.”
“I’ll handle it.”
I kill the call. Pavel and Katya wait by the house, both more alert than they were when I left them.
“Everything alright?” Katya studies my face.
“Business complication. Nothing urgent.”
I take the porch, watching. Distance gives me the perspective I’ve been missing.
The way they move around each other sets my teeth on edge. Not romantic, though. Professional.
She straightens like a recruit before a commander. Tracks his every gesture. Disciplined. Submissive. Not my Katya.
Pavel flashes something on his tablet. Katya freezes.
Whatever it was made her go still. She stares for several seconds, then her hand drifts to her wrist, where she starts tracing that crescent moon tattoo.
She flicks her gaze Pavel’s way, then locks on me, and my heart stops. For the first time since the hospital, I’m not seeing my wife. I’m staring at Alexandra Volkova.