Chapter 40 Aleksandr
ALEKSANDR
The woman approaching us moves like a predator in designer clothing, all calculated grace and sharp edges hidden beneath expensive fabric.
My hand tightens on Lena's waist before I can stop the reaction, my fingers pressing into the silk of her dress hard enough that she glances up at me with a question in those midnight blue eyes.
Katya Rostova.
"Aleksandr." Her voice is smooth as aged whiskey, cultured and controlled. She extends her hand, ignoring Lena completely. "Welcome back from the dead. We all thought you'd finally met your match and departed this Earth."
I take her hand briefly, the touch perfunctory and cold. "Katya. I didn't realize you were still in the city."
"Where else would I be?" Her smile doesn't reach those sharp green eyes. "This is my home. Has been for twenty years."
The unspoken accusation hangs between us like smoke. This was her home, before I destroyed her family and left her with nothing but blood-soaked memories and a widow's pension.
"Allow me to introduce my fiancée." I pull Lena closer, feeling the warmth of her body against my side. "Lena Orlova. Lena, this is Katya Rostova."
Katya's gaze finally shifts to Lena, and I watch her eyes travel over my woman with the kind of assessment that makes my jaw clench. She's cataloging everything. The dress, the jewelry, and even the way she stands.
"Orlova." Katya's perfectly shaped eyebrow arches. "That's an interesting name. Any relation to Stepan Orlov?"
My spine stiffens but I don't answer her question, and thankfully, Lena jumps in rather quickly so it doesn't seem awkward or like I'm trying to ignore the question. Which, of course, I am.
Lena extends her hand with more grace than I expected, given the tension crackling through the air like electricity before a storm. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Rostova."
"Please, call me Katya." She takes Lena's hand, holding it a beat too long. "And congratulations on your engagement. Aleksandr is quite the catch. Though I imagine he comes with certain complications."
"All the best ones do." Lena's voice is steady, but I feel the slight tremor in her body pressed against mine.
Katya laughs, the sound like breaking glass wrapped in velvet. "I like her, Aleksandr. She has spirit." Her gaze returns to me, and something cold flickers in those green depths. "I was sorry to hear about your ordeal. Whatever happened must have been quite traumatic."
"I survived." I keep my tone flat, giving her nothing. "That's what matters."
"Indeed." She glances around the room, taking in the opulence, the gathered soldiers, the obvious display of power. "And it seems you've landed on your feet, as always. Some men have all the luck."
The word 'luck' carries weight, an accusation wrapped in politeness. We both know luck had nothing to do with my survival. Someone tried to kill me and failed. Someone she probably knows.
"If you'll excuse us." I guide Lena away before Katya can say anything else, before this conversation can become more dangerous than it already is. "I need to introduce Lena to some of the other guests."
"Of course." Katya's smile is all teeth. "We'll catch up later, I'm sure."
I don't respond, just steer Lena toward the bar where Ronnie is nursing a vodka, his eyes roaming over the guests. Keeping watch. The moment we're out of earshot, Lena turns to me.
"Who was that?" Her voice is low, meant only for my ears. "And why do I feel like I just survived an interrogation?"
"Because you did." I signal the bartender for two vodkas. "Katya Rostova is dangerous. More dangerous than she looks."
"She's beautiful." Lena takes the glass I hand her, a soda since she'd said she doesn't want to drink, wants to remain sober and alert during the party. Something in her tone makes me look at her more carefully. "Did you two have a thing? Before?"
The question catches me off guard. "A thing?"
"You know what I mean." She takes a sip, not meeting my eyes. "The way she looked at you. Like she knows exactly what you look like without that suit on."
Jealousy. She's jealous. The realization sends a bolt of pure satisfaction through my chest. I lean closer, my mouth near her ear so I can speak without being overheard.
"Never. Not once." I let my hand slide lower on her back, feeling the curve of her ass through the silk. "Katya was married to Dmitri Rostova. He was a rival Pakhan who controlled some territory in the city."
"Was?"
"I killed him." The words come out flat, honest. "Two years ago. Him, his brothers, his nephew. There was a territorial dispute that got out of hand. I ordered a hit on a family gathering."
Lena goes very still against me. "A family gathering."
"His sixteen-year-old daughter was there.
She died in the crossfire." The guilt I thought I'd buried surfaces like a corpse in shallow water.
"That wasn't supposed to happen. I don't kill kids.
But Katya wasn't there. She was visiting her sister in Boston.
When she came back, her entire family was gone. "
"Jesus." Lena's voice is barely a whisper. "And she's here? At your party?"
"Yeah." I drain my vodka, the burn doing nothing to ease the tension coiling in my gut. "She's here for a reason, and it's not to congratulate me on my survival."
We spend the next hour circulating through the room, and I watch everything. Every face, every reaction, every subtle shift in body language that might reveal something useful.
Ronnie greets me with genuine relief, his handshake firm and his eyes clear. The way he looks at Lena is respectful, curious but not calculating. Safe.
One of my older captains seems pleased to see me. His questions about my absence are perfunctory, more concerned with business continuity than personal details. He's been with me for fifteen years. Solid.
But then there's a younger lieutenant who's been making noise about expansion. His smile is too wide, his congratulations too effusive. He keeps glancing at Katya across the room, and when their eyes meet, something passes between them that makes my instincts flare hot and sharp.
Interesting.
I introduce Lena to the wives and girlfriends, watching her navigate the social minefield with surprising skill.
She's charming without being fake, warm without revealing anything real.
The dark blue dress hugs her curves in ways that make every man in the room look twice, and I find myself fighting the urge to throw my jacket over her shoulders and hide her from their eyes.
Or plant my fists in a lot of faces.
Possessive. I'm being possessive, and I don't even care.
Across the room, Katya works the crowd like a politician at a fundraiser.
She's changed since I last saw her. The grief-stricken widow has been replaced by something harder and sharper.
She laughs at jokes that aren't funny, touches arms with casual familiarity, and pays particular attention to my younger soldiers.
The ones who are ambitious. The ones who might be swayed by a beautiful woman with a grudge and deep pockets.
Danil appears at my elbow.
"We need to talk." His voice is low, urgent.
I glance at Lena, who's deep in conversation with Ronnie about something that has them both laughing. She catches my eye and nods, understanding without words that I need a moment.
Danil leads me to a quiet corner near the terrace doors, his expression grim. "You see what she's doing?"
"Katya." Not a question.
"She's been working the room for the past hour. Flirting with every lieutenant under thirty-five, asking questions about loyalty and ambition." He crosses his arms over his broad chest. "She's recruiting."
"I noticed." I watch Katya lean close to another young soldier, her hand resting on his arm as she whispers something that makes him smile. "She's subtle about it. Nothing overt. Just planting seeds."
"Seeds that could grow into problems." Danil's jaw tightens. "These kids don't realize what you're capable of. They see a beautiful woman paying attention to them, and they forget she's a viper."
"Let her play her game." I turn back to the party, my eyes finding Lena automatically.
She's moved to the dessert table, and the way that dress clings to her ass as she bends slightly to examine the pastries makes my cock stir.
Wrong time, wrong thoughts, but I can't help it. "I want to see who takes the bait."
"That's dangerous."
"Everything is dangerous." I straighten my cuffs, a habit from my old life that's coming back too easily. "But I'd rather know who my enemies are than wonder."
Danil studies me for a long moment. "You've changed. The old you would have handled this differently."
My eyes stay on Lena, watching the way she smiles at something Ronnie's wife says. "Things change."
I turn to face him fully. "Keep watching Katya. I want to know everyone she talks to, everything she says. And double the security on Lena. She's already connected Lena to the Orlov family, and even though I canceled the hit on her, Katya could find a way to use it."
"Already done." He claps me on the shoulder. "For what it's worth, I think you made the right choice. Bringing her here. Claiming her publicly. It's bold."
The party continues for another two hours. Champagne flows, the string quartet plays, and I play the role of gracious host while my mind catalogs every suspicious glance, every whispered conversation, every moment that feels slightly off.
By the time the last guests filter out, my head is pounding.
Lena leans against me as we watch the final car pull away, her body warm and soft against my side. "That was exhausting."
"You did well." I press a kiss to her temple, breathing in the scent of her perfume and Lena's own unique sweet scent.
"I felt like I was walking through a minefield in heels." She looks up at me, and in the dim light from the foyer, her eyes are almost black. "Did you find what you were looking for?"
"Yes and no." I guide her inside, my hand on the small of her back. "I found suspects. Too many of them."
"How many?"
I close the door and engage the locks, the sound of metal sliding into place somehow ominous in the quiet house. My mind runs through the evening, cataloging every moment that raised red flags.
"At least five." The number sits in my chest like a stone. "At least five people in the room tonight want me dead."