Chapter 7
Kazimir
Iknow the moment she steps into the room because my body reacts before my mind does.
My fist tightens on the table, fingers curling hard enough that my knuckles ache. I force myself not to move or look at her too quickly, but it’s hard because she has such an immediate pull on me.
My best friend and advisor is right beside me, already half-out of his chair.
He’s smiling with something like relief when he spots her, and I take a measured breath, schooling my features into something neutral.
Something that doesn’t say, I think about putting my hands on your body every night.
I want to cup your heat, tease you, hear those sounds you make all over again.
The line has been crossed.
Alyona looks beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with effort.
She lacks the confidence of the other women in this room.
Her head isn’t held high, and her feet don’t line up perfectly as she takes measured steps.
There’s tension in her shoulders. A vitality in her eyes that I watch closely.
They flick briefly toward me over her father’s shoulders.
Then away.
Devin isn’t far behind her. Months ago, I had one of the men run a background check on the redhead.
Twenty-three, ballsy, a foster kid turned independent woman.
While I don’t love the appearance of an abusive ex in her past, she seems to have pulled away from that lifestyle.
She’s protective of Aly, and I like that.
She’s sharp, this one, quick and observant. Liev gives her an annoyed glance; he doesn’t share my sentiment. He gestures stiffly toward the table, bracing for Devin’s sharp mouth.
He pulls a chair out for Aly. I stand and pull out Devin’s, ignoring the narrowed eyes and quick smirk she gives me.
“Well,” Devin says, eyes glittering as she takes in the dining room, “this is as obscene as I thought it would be.”
Aly tries to hide her smile with pursed lips. Liev grimaces.
“It’s nice,” she insists, swatting at Devin under the table. “I’ve always wondered what it was like here.”
“Aspirational,” Devin agrees with a nod, reining herself in. “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Demsky.”
Aly sits across from me, and even from here I can feel the heat.
The proximity is almost unbearable. I keep my posture loose, although I’m suddenly over-aware of my entire body and how it reacts to her.
She and Devin murmur over the menu. Liev makes small comments here and there, pleased with himself when he draws a laugh from her.
Her plush, full lips curve up in a smile that makes me wonder what they’d look like parted and wrapped around my cock. The memory of how wet she was through those panties vividly comes to mind. Tension gathers in my loins as I try to dissipate it with a deep breath.
I shouldn’t imagine her against that brick wall with her tits chafing and ass pressed back when her father is sitting right next to me.
When the waitress arrives, Liev and I order for the table with authority and composure. Wine for the girls, vodka for us, appetizers and entrees that were shyly chosen.
Conversation flows through careful channels at first, polite and surface-level. Liev is eager, leaning forward as he asks, “How close are you to finishing your license, Aly?”
It’s a question asked too often, and he should remember the answer. He probably does, but he uses it as a way to connect with her. I shift in irritation, seeing the same feeling mirrored in Aly’s tight smile.
“Six months,” she reminds him. “If I can pay for the accelerated course.”
“How much—” he begins to ask, but she shakes her head.
Devin and I watch them closely, leaning back in our chairs, but tense as the feeling of the conversation shifts.
“I don’t need help,” Aly interrupts with a snap. “I can pay for it myself.”
What goes unspoken are the words, I don’t need you.
Liev sits back heavily. The wine arrives, and we all avoid making eye contact as it’s poured.
To break the tension, Devin tells a story that absolutely scandalizes the waitress, who runs off.
I can’t help smiling at the way she recounts dating a much older, very wealthy man she met while bartending a few years ago.
“It wasn’t for the money,” she says sincerely, balancing a blackened oyster with watermelon relish on two fingers. “He was a hedge fund manager. Thought I could pick up some tips since he was always on the phone arguing or getting information. He liked to call me precocious.”
Liev makes a face. “You didn’t think sixty-three was a little old for you?”
“Oh, no,” Devin quips, unbothered by how uncomfortable Liev is. “That was the whole point. He couldn’t really get it up at that age, anyway. Plus, he was anti-big pharma, so he wouldn’t take any of those happy pills. Great for me until I realized all he really wanted was control.”
I don’t miss the sad, quick look Aly shoots Devin. The redhead seems unaffected by the story she’s telling. But I was built to recognize weaknesses in people, and the way she stares blankly down at her plate, still smiling, gives her away.
“He did this thing where he would drop things all the time and make me pick them up. Like, get on my knees in five-inch heels, in a miniskirt, while people watched. He’d do it all the time in public. I finally had enough. Don’t mind having a sugar daddy, but no one owns me like that.”
Her smile when she looks up is sharp enough to cut glass.
“The last time he did it, I told him there was no point in making me get on my knees if he couldn’t get it up, and I left.”
Aly bites her lip; I laugh, and Liev looks mortified. Devin’s quick smirk says she got exactly the reaction she wanted, and she excuses herself to go “freshen up” quickly. When she does, Liev murmurs in my direction, “That girl is trouble.”
Still trying to tamp down a rumble of amusement, I respond, “She’s honest.”
Aly glances at me then, surprised, and our eyes meet for a fraction of a second longer than is safe. Something passes between us, unspoken and charged. “I, um, I’m going to run to the restroom too,” she says, shaken, pushing her chair back and looking away.
I take a slow, deep breath, trying to watch her leave without wanting her. It’s impossible.
Our plates start to arrive, and the empty glass in my hand is suddenly a perfect excuse. “I’ll be back,” I murmur, tipping the glass toward Liev. “Do you want one?”
He shakes his head, clearly still trying to navigate trying to talk to his own daughter in his head. I get up and head toward the bar.
But that’s not where I’m going; I knew that the moment the idea popped into my head.
No, I need to find her.
I do. It’s so easy to locate her; it’s as if we’re tied together. Like a compass buried somewhere in my non-existent soul points toward her.
She’s in a small hallway near the bathrooms, tucked away. The space is narrow and dim enough that when she turns; she does it quickly enough that we almost collide.
There’s nowhere for either of us to go. No way to avoid the way her body brushes against mine, her hands coming up to grip my forearms and steady herself.
“Oh,” she says, cheeks going pink as I wrap a hand around her hip.
The air between us feels thick. Charged.
“Happy birthday,” I say quietly.
Her breath catches, just slightly. The sound sends a jolt straight through me. “Thank you.”
I lean in closer than I should, lowering my voice. “I’m sorry you have to spend it with old men.”
She laughs. “You don’t have to lump yourself in with him.” Her eyes dart down my body, from my throat to my hips, and I watch her swallow. The boldness of her words surprises me, and something dark but pleasing stirs in my groin.
“Is that so?”
She tips her head, meeting my gaze with a steadiness that she seems to be practicing. “You know it is. You’re different.”
For a moment, the line between us feels impossibly thin; stretched tight by restraint.
I’m acutely aware of how warm her skin is under her bunched dress.
My mind visualizes what it would look like pulled up around her thick waist. What kind of underwear she has on.
The sound the fabric would make when I rip it and bury my face in her hot breasts.
Instead, I straighten slightly, letting her go. “I hope you’re able to enjoy tonight.”
Alyona hesitates, then nods, slipping past me and back into the restaurant.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of conversation and laughter that I participate in, but only from the outskirts. My focus is divided between maintaining appearances and monitoring Aly’s every shift and smile.
Liev loosens as the wine works its way through him, relief settling into his posture as he watches his daughter laugh, engage, and exist in a way that feels like progress to him.
I recognized the look immediately. It’s hope; dangerous and unguarded.
It’s the type of hope that convinces a man he is getting something back that was never fully his to begin with.
This night matters to him more than he will ever say aloud, and knowing that bothers me because I am the one contaminating it.
When the evening ends, we stand together just outside the restaurant, the low glow behind us painting everything in gold that feels undeserved.
Aly lingers instead of leaving immediately.
Devin is a few steps ahead, but her back is turned with deliberate tact.
Aly leans in close enough that I feel the heat from her.
She is so close that I know just how easily I could take her chin again and guide her exactly where I want her.
“Thank you,” she whispers, in her soft, intimate voice. “For the other night.”
The memory of that night flashes sharp and vivid in my mind. The way her body responded to me in that alley, the knowledge that she is capable of that kind of surrender seared itself permanently into my mind. My jaw tightens, and I force myself to remain still.
She hesitates, then adds, quieter, as if trying to reclaim something. “It was a mistake.”
The word lands wrong, thin, and insufficient. I study her face: the faint tension in her mouth, the uncertainty she tries to disguise as certainty. I nod sharply once, because any denial would be a lie, and any agreement would be an insult to what passed between us.
Liev steps out after paying the bill and lights a cigarette on the balcony, offering one to me. We stand shoulder to shoulder as the women walk away. His gaze follows Aly with warmth and relief. He’s a man allowing himself to believe that something is mending.
“I think things are turning around,” he says quietly. “With her.”
I say nothing. My attention is fixed on the street below and the way Aly pauses briefly before disappearing around the corner. Her body etched into my awareness. She doesn’t look back, and I tell myself it is restraint, not disappointment, that tightens my chest.
Movement catches my eye then, so subtle that most men would miss it.
Two figures detach from the flow of pedestrians, keeping their distance, adjusting pace when she does. They are careful, practiced, and the sight of them sends something cold and deliberate settling into my blood.
One glance at Liev tells me that he hasn’t noticed, too consumed in the daydream of a possible relationship with his daughter.
“I have to go,” I say abruptly, already stepping away from him before he can question it.
I dial Nika as I move, my voice low and precise. “I want eyes on Alyona Demsky. Constant. You report to me. Not Liev.”
There is a pause on the line, hesitation threading through it. “Kaz—”
“Do it.”
Another pause, heavier this time, carrying the weight of what I am asking him to participate in.
Before Nika came to the team, Liev and I rose through the ranks together.
Brothers, hiding bodies, rinsing blood from wounds, bound in violence, and focused on controlling this empire we’d been given the chance to inherit.
Nika knows that this is some kind of betrayal, but he answers with one word: “Understood.”
I end the call, the decision locking into place with the inevitability of a blade sliding home.
Liev doesn’t know that she’s mine. I am no longer pretending that I am protecting him when I keep it that way.