19. Demyan
Chapter Nineteen
DEMYAN
Erin’s gone into Sasha’s room. I could have told her not to, but I’ve let her out, and doing that would be cruel, yeah, but also completely futile.
I don’t think she’s going to run, but she’s not locked up and now she won’t be kept from her child.
Choosing my clothes, I dress. The monitor on the dresser in my room—Ilya got a bunch of them to scatter through the house, so I don’t have to remember to take one with me when Sasha’s not with me—is on.
She talks to him in soft words and murmurs and he makes a sound, then says sleepily, “Mama” like it’s shorthand for the word love.
“I’m here, baby. Go back to sleep.”
Then she sings to him, her voice sweet if slightly out of tune. I don’t know the song, but I find myself humming along, slowing down, until she stops and when I leave my room, I almost open the door to his room and peek in.
But I think she’s asleep, too. And for some unknown reason, I don’t want to wake her.
I continue on to Alina’s room .
Max’s funeral is today. I can already feel her pain and misery radiating outward, clogging up the air, and I can’t do a thing. A part of me wants to just go. But that’s so fucking cowardly I disgust myself. I knock lightly on her door.
My heart breaks when I see her. Alina is on her bed, hands clasped, wearing a simple black dress. She’s so pale and drawn and diminished under the weight of her grief, like she’s already buried part of her light with Max.
I cross and crouch in front of her, taking her hands. “Angel.”
“This dress is horrible.”
“It isn’t. It’s what it represents.”
She doesn’t look at me. “I had this other one picked out, so pretty, a silk sundress with little cherries printed on it, the skirt swirls just so.”
I’ve seen her in it. But I wait.
“Max got it for me. And I thought… thought I’d wear it for him because he loved it.” She blinks hard, voice dropping to a whisper. “But if I wore it, I couldn’t wear it again and—” Her gaze hits mine. “I’m not sure I can do this. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
I look at her. “This is a fucking horrible day and you just need to get through it. That’s all. It’s not going to be nice, but it’s something you have to do. And Alina, you can do it. You’re stronger than you realize. You’ll do it for Max and you’ll do it because you need closure.”
She swallows. “Demyan…”
“I can come with you.” I squeeze her hands. “It’s not too late to change your mind about that.”
But she shakes her head. “It’s such a small ceremony, just family and me.” Pinpricks of pink bloom on her cheeks. “What if they blame me for this? Blame us? They have every right. The Yegorovs are bratva. Violence follows this family. So they must think it’s my fault. And it is. They’d be right. ”
I sigh and kiss her forehead, then take hold of her chin. “Because you were born? That’s bullshit. You didn’t do a thing. And we’re not to blame. Any problems I’m dealing with had no business coming near your happiness.”
This isn’t a lie. There’s an amnesty of sorts over innocent family, unless there’s an outright war. There is not a war.
Or there wasn’t.
I grit my teeth. “We’re not to blame. There’s only one person to blame, and that’s the coward who did this, and I’ll deal with them.”
She nods and gets up, and I do too. “I need to go or I’ll be late. Demyan?”
“Yes?”
“Make sure the streets run with their blood.”
Alina leaves, and I stare after her. She’s the sweet one, the sheltered one, the girl who doesn’t have a violent bone in her body.
Until now.
A part of me is horrified, the other part proud she’s living up to the blood in her veins. And I know she’s right. Revenge must be had.
I follow after her, turning left into the downstairs study where Ilya waits. “Ready?” I ask.
He nods and I turn to leave. Outside, I get into the waiting car, Alina’s already gone.
Ilya closes his door with a click. “Are you sure?”
“Give the fucking driver the address. I assume the meeting with Sergio still stands?”
“Demyan…” He blows out a breath and leans back, pushing a hand through his hair. “Are you sure?”
“Give him the address.”
Ilya sits up and says in Russian, “This feels like you’re amputating a leg over a sore toe.”
“Sergio’s a fucking snake. But I need to make a deal with him to take down that scorpion, Niko. Or to put it another way, I make a deal with a devil to take down Satan, though that’s giving Niko a little too much credit. The address?”
He fires it off, and we head out. I check my weapon, returning it to its holster. I’m not planning on using it, but I like to be prepared.
“You have a son.”
“We don’t tell fucking Sergio or anyone else that. The girl’s a guest, but I’m not planning on her being seen and certainly not the boy.”
His side-eye hits. “Someone’s bound to have noticed the purchases.”
“A guest with a child.” I let out the irritation.
But it isn’t at him, it’s me. Sasha is a distraction and one I welcome. His mother…
She’s a distraction, too. I’m furious at her for lying.
Guilty for locking her away to punish her, and when she hugged me, it brought back the very reason why Sasha exists.
Erin exudes a sensuality that’s shy on the surface, but I know from firsthand experience rages hot on the inside. And yeah, I want her again.
A guest with a child is so ludicrous. Then again, I’m not sure I’m listed on the birth certificate—another thing to take issue with—so it should hold up that she’s nothing more than a guest to anyone poking.
Unless, of course?—
I stop myself.
She’s no plant, and he’s definitely mine.
“It won’t take much, Demyan.”
“You think I can put it all back in the box? I’ve got a child, and that’s where we are on that.
But she stays at the mansion and she’s safe, as is Sasha.
” I straighten my tie as we head toward the Gold Coast, the richest and most elite part of Chicago, not far from my penthouse.
“This is a necessity. What time is he expecting us?”
“You have time.”
My look is sharp.
“We’ll be there on time.” Ilya turns and faces the window.
There are moments designed for power plays and making someone wait, or giving the upper hand by arriving early. On time is equal footing and I honestly don’t care if he’s early or late; he’ll know when I arrive at Beacon, the exclusive club.
As we finally pull up, I put a hand on Ilya’s arm. “I’ll deal with any consequences that emerge from this partnership when the time’s right.”
“If you say so, but this was easy, too easy.”
I don’t have time to ponder that. Ilya checks his watch, then opens the door.
Time to play hardball.
The meeting’s long, pitted with mines, even in this neutral setting, an infamous setting for all sorts of deals.
Sergio agreed to help. There’s no love lost between him and Niko, and it’s clear he wouldn’t mind getting his hands on some of Niko’s holdings.
But while he’s agreed, he hasn’t laid down his terms, and the bottom of my stomach sinks when his daughter, Stefina, sashays in.
She doesn’t sit with us but goes upstairs to the restaurant, and I know what he wants.
I can’t fucking stand the snobby, vacuous, and self-absorbed creature. She’s my age, single for good reason, and I know Sergio’s desperate to marry her off.
The word no forms, but I swallow it down.
“Ah, I see my beauty’s caught your eye.” Sergio grins and leans forward, chomping on his unlit cigar. “As I said, I’ll help, but I want something in return. Rather, Stefina does. You. ”
Fuck no. Not even if hell freezes over. But I bite down on that response, too.
“I’m not in the market.”
“You’re single.” Sergio looks me up and down. “An alliance between us will be stronger through marriage, and you want help in bringing Niko down. Marry my daughter and we’ll help each other. Win-win.”
I resist the urge to tap my hand against the bar. The thing is, he’s got me. Sure, I could go it alone, but this works with an alliance. Alone is a recipe for disaster.
Stefina? Fuck. I don’t look at Ilya because I know the expression on his face. Well, I don’t have to sleep with her. At least not often. There are all kinds of arrangements, and most of those will suit her in the freedom to do whatever the fuck she wants.
Even married to her, I’ll have an upper hand. Because this man’s desperate to not only give his daughter what she wants—me apparently—but get her off the market. And he wants this alliance with the bratva.
“I’ll do it,” I say in cold, neutral tones, but marriage is a big ask. “I want a dowry. You part with some of your assets and certain territories, so the deal’s sweet and not one I’d be inclined to back out of.”
He’s silent, but the relief seeps into his eyes. “You have a deal.”
“Ilya will hammer out the details with you.” And we shake.
I feel dirty, like grime has suddenly settled over me in a thick layer.
But I’ll do it. This alliance will bring down Niko and it’ll take care of my priority—keeping Alina, Sasha, and Erin safe.
When we’re done, I bow out of drinks with him and his daughter, crying the call of my duties, and I leave with Ilya, who doesn’t say a word until we’re halfway home .
“How did it go?”
“You know how it went,” I say, pouring a drink from the minibar, one that Ilya steals. I glare and pour another. “The deal’s done.”
“Just like that.”
“There are details you need to work out for me.” I’m not in the mood to tell him the finer points. Besides, he’ll know soon enough.
And it’s not like I’m planning to go through with it. I can figure out a way to void the marriage part and keep the rest intact, even if I have to kidnap some guy for her to marry. Because there’s no way it’s going to be me.
“But,” I add, “make no mistake, vengeance will be achieved.”
And then I sit back, close my eyes, and drink my drink.
What I want is my son.
And, shockingly, Erin.
When I get home, voices draw me to the living room.
I head there, hoping to find Sasha, which I do. He’s on the floor quietly playing but the thing that rivets me to the spot is Alina, crying in Erin’s arms.
“It’s okay,” Erin murmurs, “you went and I know Max—” She stops as she sees me but before she can pull away, I excuse myself and go to my study, pulling the door shut behind me.
I should be the one making Alina feel better. And I’ve tried but seeing her broken all over again almost destroys me. I’m shit with emotions, anyway, my father having beat the vulnerabilities out of me. So she’s better off with Erin.
Ilya knocks and we get to work. This is something I can do .
I don’t know how long we’re at it with the plotting and planning, the regular and mundane’s in there too. But when we’re done, I go in search of Alina, wanting to check on her.
“I won’t ask how the funeral went,” I say to her when I find her in the kitchen pouring a drink from a bottle of vodka. From the looks of it, she’s had a few and I’m not about to say a word about it, only get one for myself. “But I’ll ask how you’re doing.”
“Trying to reach numb oblivion.”
“I’m here for you.”
“I know, Demyan. And you’ve been wonderful. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay.”
“You will. One day.”
“That’s what Erin said.”
A jolt runs through me.
“She’s been a great help, Demyan. She knew him, really knew him, and I need that.”
I manage a grunt because I don’t know what the fuck to say.
“She’s a good person.” Alina bangs her glass down and pours another, swaying just a bit.
“You probably want me to say she made a mistake, but she didn’t.
She just did what she thought was right for Sasha.
She doesn’t know you, and the idea of you is scary.
But she’s not going anywhere. I offered to sneak her out. ”
“You what?” A savage fury rips into me but it’s got nowhere to go because I sure as shit am not going to point it at Alina.
She gives me a slightly drunk, teary smile. “I wouldn’t have but she didn’t know. And you know what she said?”
“I’ll pack in five?”
“No. She said she was staying, that you had a right to be a father and Sasha has a right to get to know you. So stop punishing her. I know you think she fucked up, but you can’t punish her forever and you can’t keep Sasha from her. That little boy needs her, loves her.”
“I didn’t say he didn’t. I just… she fucking lied. Hid my child.”
“And you’ve made her pay. Time is short, Demyan,” she said, taking a swallow of her vodka. “You’ve made your point, well and truly. Stop being a dick and move forward.”
“She’s allowed to see him, Alina,” I say, narrowing my eyes. Fuck, each word is like the lash of a whip.
“That’s a start.” She puts down her glass and leans forward. “Father was an asshole to you, I saw it. Don’t be the same. You need to move past this resentment and anger with her and make amends; otherwise, it’ll be real hatred and it’ll hurt Sasha.”
“I’ll think about it,” I mutter.
But her words hit hard, cut deep.
The last thing I want to do is fuck up the way my father did.
I just have to work out how not to.