Chapter 10Valerian
10
Valerian
I settle back in my chair, eyes narrowing as I read the report on Jay’s gambling history. The debts, the losses, and the poor decisions. Each page reveals the man’s reckless nature. What catches my attention is the link to the Petrov Syndicate. Jay’s trouble runs deeper than losing money at a Petrov gambling den in Little Odessa. “Dmitri,” I call out, my voice sharp.
The door opens, and Dmitri enters, his face a mask of professional neutrality. “Yes, boss?”
I toss the file across the desk. “Did you see this?”
“The Petrov connection?” His fingers trace over the damning evidence as he flips through the pages. A muscle twitches in his jaw. “That’s unexpected.”
“Unexpected is an understatement.” My chair creaks while I push away from my desk to pace. “They’ve been manipulating him from the start. Five thousand here, ten thousand there. Making sure his bets paid off just enough to keep him coming back. Classic predator behavior, Dmitri. They were grooming him, molding him into their perfect little soldier.”
The paper crinkles as Dmitri’s grip tightens on the file. “Those bastards made him dependent. Each ‘win’ was another link in their chain.”
“Exactly.” I pause at the window, watching the last rays of sunlight glint off the Philadelphia skyscrapers. The glass is cool against my fingertips. “And now their investment is sitting in a concrete cell. Matvey Petrov isn’t known for his patience or understanding when his plans go sideways.”
“What’s our play?” Dmitri’s reflection appears behind me in the glass, his shoulders squared and ready for action.
I pivot to face him, already mapping out the strategy in my mind. “Time isn’t on our side. I want someone on the inside today. Use whatever connections necessary to get one of our men transferred to Jay’s cell block. Whether he takes the plea deal or fights the charges, I need surveillance in place. The judge denied bail, so he’s not going anywhere.” I drum my fingers against the polished surface of my desk. “The moment a Petrov associate so much as breathes in Jay’s direction, I want to know about it. No exceptions.”
Dmitri nods. “Consider it done. Anything else?”
“Yes. I want a full background check on Claire Bennett. Dig deep. I need to know if she has any connections to the Petrovs that we might have missed.”
“You think she might be involved?”
I shake my head. “No, but I can’t rule it out. Her brother’s in deep with them. We need to be certain she’s not compromised.”
“Understood.” Dmitri hesitates. “And what about the girl herself? Do you want us to increase surveillance?”
I consider this for a moment. The thought of having Claire watched more closely doesn’t sit well with me. “No. For now, we maintain our current level of observation, but I want daily reports on her movements and interactions.”
Dmitri nods and turns to leave.
“One more thing,” I call out. He pauses at the door. “Arrange a meeting with our contacts in the D.A.’s office. I want to know exactly what kind of deal they’re offering Jay. We need to make sure he keeps his mouth shut about any Petrov connections.”
“Got it, boss. Anything else?”
I wave him off. “That’s all for now. Keep me updated.”
As the door closes behind Dmitri, I sink back into my chair. The situation with Jay Bennett has become far more complicated than I initially anticipated. The Petrov involvement changes everything.
I pull out my phone, scrolling through recent messages. There’s one from Claire, sent late last night after I was asleep.
“Thank you for the hot chocolate, and for listening. It helped.”
I stare at the message, myriad emotions churning inside me. She’s become an unexpected variable in this equation. One that I’m finding increasingly difficult to ignore. I type out a reply:
“You’re welcome. My door is always open if you need to talk.”
My finger hovers over the send button. Is this wise? Am I letting myself get too close? I delete the message, opting instead for something more neutral.
“Glad I could help. Get some rest.”
I hit send before I can second-guess myself again. Setting the phone aside, I turn my attention back to the matter at hand. The Petrov Syndicate. Jay Bennett. Claire.
I lean back in my chair, fingers steepled under my chin as I contemplate the situation. The Petrov Syndicate’s involvement with Jay complicates matters exponentially. If they catch wind of Claire’s arrangement with me, it could put her and her family in grave danger.
My jaw clenches as I imagine Matvey Petrov’s men anywhere near Claire or Bloom House. The thought of her parents, Robert and Linda, caught in the crossfire of this underworld feud makes my blood boil. “Dmitri?” I say loudly.
The door opens, and he enters, his face a mask of professional neutrality. “Yes, boss?”
“I need you to put some men on Bloom House. Discreet observation, round the clock. If anyone so much as looks at that flower shop sideways, I want to know about it.”
Dmitri nods, already pulling out his phone. “Consider it done. Anything else?”
I pause, weighing my next words carefully. “Increase security here at the mansion as well as the penthouse when we’re there. I want Claire protected at all times, whether she’s here or out in the city.”
A flicker of surprise crosses Dmitri’s face before he schools his expression. “Understood. I’ll make the arrangements immediately.” He hesitates at the door. “If I may ask... why all the extra precautions for Miss Bennett?”
I narrow my eyes. “Because the Petrovs will be looking for leverage, and I won’t give them the satisfaction.”
Dmitri nods, accepting my explanation without further question. As the door closes behind him, I’m left alone with my thoughts once more.
I rise from my desk, pacing the length of my office. The city sprawls out before me through the windows, a landscape of steel and glass that I’ve spent years conquering. Yet now, all of it seems insignificant compared to keeping one woman safe.
I sift through endless columns of numbers, but the quarterly reports blur before my eyes. My phone sits within reach, its screen dark and silent. Too silent.
“Dammit.” I grab it, thumbing open my messages to Claire.
“Everything okay?” I type, then delete it. Too obvious. Instead, I write: “Checking in.”
Her response comes quickly: “All good. Just finished with a client. Heading to lunch.”
Relief courses through me, but it’s short-lived. I tap my pen against the desk, staring at the financial statements spread before me. The numbers should command my full attention, but all I see is Claire’s face…
My phone buzzes with a longer message from her: “Your security detail is very thorough. Pretty sure they counted how many times I blinked during my sandwich.”
I smile despite myself. “Good. That’s their job.”
“They’re scaring my customers.”
“Better scared than dead.” I pause, then add: “I’ll tell them to be more discreet.”
I set down the phone, turning back to the papers that demand my attention, but the numbers still refuse to make sense, and my hand keeps straying toward the phone, ready to check on her again.
“Everything okay?”
“Where are you now?”
“Let me know when you’re heading back.”
By the time evening rolls around, I’ve sent her no less than a dozen messages. The last one comes back with a curt reply:
“I’m fine. On my way back now.”
I lean back in my chair. Perhaps I’ve been a bit overzealous in my concern, but the stakes are too high to take chances.
The elevator dings, announcing her return. I rise from my desk, straightening my suit jacket as I make my way to the penthouse’s main living area. The doors slide open, and there she stands, a vision of irritation wrapped in a light blue sweater and jeans.
“Welcome back,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.
Claire’s eyes narrow slightly as she steps into the room. “Thanks.” She hefts a large paper bag in her arms. “I brought dinner.”
The aroma of Thai food wafts through the air, making my stomach growl. It’s then I realize I haven’t eaten since breakfast, too consumed with work and worry to notice.
“That’s thoughtful of you,” I say, genuinely surprised by the gesture.
Claire shrugs, moving past me to set the bag on the coffee table. “I figured your staff might be hungry too. There’s enough for everyone.”
She begins unpacking containers of pad thai, green curry, and spring rolls. The domesticity of the scene strikes me, so at odds with the danger lurking just beyond these walls.
“Shall we eat in the entertainment room?” I suggest, gesturing toward the adjacent space. “We could put on a movie.”
Claire nods, gathering up the food. “Sure. As long as it’s not a mob flick. I’ve had enough real-life crime drama lately.”
I chuckle despite myself, following her into the room. “How about ‘Die Hard 2?’”
“Perfect,” Claire says dryly, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips.
We settle onto the plush leather couch as the movie’s opening credits roll across the massive screen. For a while, we eat in companionable silence, the only sounds the clinking of chopsticks and Bruce Willis’s wisecracks.
It’s during a lull in the action that Claire finally speaks up. “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
I turn to face her, my expression carefully neutral. “What do you mean?”
Claire sets down her container of pad thai, fixing me with a pointed stare. “The constant check-ins? The extra security I noticed tailing me today? Something’s changed, Valerian. I want to know what it is.”
I sigh, setting aside my own food. There’s no point in trying to deflect. She’s too perceptive for that. “You’re right. There have been developments regarding your brother’s situation.”
She stiffens. “What kind of developments?”
I let out a harsh breath. “We’ve discovered that Jay wasn’t just gambling at a Petrov-owned establishment. He was being groomed as an asset for their organization. They must have lured him back after his brief stint with avoiding gambling while he worked at the casino—one of Petrov’s legitimate holdings, by the way.
“They would have been watching him the entire time. Maybe someone applied pressure that sent him to the gambling den while trying to get him back into gambling with the casino and running up his tab. They couldn’t have known he’d go to the illegal den, or the cops would pick that night to raid it.”
The color drains from Claire’s face. “What? That’s... that’s impossible. Jay wouldn’t?—”
“It wasn’t entirely voluntary,” I interject gently. “The Petrovs are masters at manipulation. They likely started small, offering him wins, and making him feel indebted. Before he knew it, he was in too deep to back out. Maybe they hadn’t even made the offer yet, but you can bet it was coming, no pun intended. This is one of the ways our world operates.”
Claire’s hands clench into fists in her lap. “And now?”
“Now, Matvey Petrov is aware that his investment is sitting in a jail cell, and he’s not the type to let such things go easily. He’s probably invested at least a hundred thousand in ensnaring your brother, which is a bargain for a foot soldier who can’t afford to be disloyal, or ask for much of a cut of anything. Not a good deal if that asset gets put in prison.”
“Matvey Petrov,” Claire repeats. “Who is that?”
“A rival of mine, in the same line of work.”
Claire’s eyes narrow, a spark of defiance igniting in their depths. “So, what you’re saying is that you and Matvey are actually quite similar. You’re both using my family to settle your scores.”
Her words hit me sharply. I open my mouth to protest, but the truth of her statement silences me. In a way, she’s right. I’m holding her here to settle Jay’s debt, just as Matvey would use her family if he decides to get back the money he spent trying to trap Jay.
“The difference,” I say finally, more harshly than I intend, “Is Matvey won’t be content with letting you massage him. He’ll expect far more, Claire, and he might never let you go.”
Claire goes very still, her face paling further. “What can be done?” she asks quietly.
I rest my elbows on my knees. “I’m increasing security for you and adding a detail for your parents. My men will be watching Bloom House around the clock. Sergei and Ivan will be your shadows as they have been, but more visibly as a deterrent and as a way to get closer to you faster, if need be.”
Claire nods slowly, processing this information. “Thank you,” she says, and I’m surprised by the sincerity in her voice. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“Of course I did,” I say, perhaps more forcefully than intended. “Your safety is paramount.”
Claire studies me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she stands, smoothing out her jeans. “I should go shower before your nightly massage. Unless you’d prefer to skip it tonight?”
“No,” I say quickly, perhaps too quickly. “The massage would be appreciated.”
Claire nods. “Alright then. I’ll see you in an hour.”
As she leaves the room, I’m struck by an overwhelming urge to follow her, to offer comfort, and to soothe away the worry I can see etched in the lines of her face, but I have no right. We have what’s supposed to be a business arrangement that doesn’t include anything personal. She wouldn’t appreciate my efforts to comfort her, I’m sure.
I sink back into the couch, letting out a ragged breath. This woman has gotten under my skin in a way no one ever has before. I should pull back and maintain professional distance. It’s the smart thing to do.
I won’t. I can’t. Despite the danger, despite the complications, I’m falling for Claire Bennett. I have no intention of stopping before we figure out how and where this spark can lead, and I’m sure she feels it too despite the brevity of our acquaintance and the situation into which I’ve maneuvered her.