Chapter Eight
Jarek
O ne Financial Center , the Financial District of Boston...
The impressive building pierced the morning sky with its glass exterior reflecting the sunrise. Jarek strode through the two-story atrium, nodding to the regular faces he passed. Sunlight poured through the ninety-foot glass ceiling, warming the marble floors beneath his feet. The familiar scent of coffee from the ground-floor café floated toward him in the crisp air from the AC.
This building meant more to him than just another investment. His eighty-five percent ownership remained a closely guarded secret, known only to Declan and Nevil. Bolton Enterprises dominated the top five floors and was a testament to his legitimate success. Here, he never discussed Summerville Mafia business. No violence, no threats, no underworld dealings crossed this threshold. Two worlds on completely opposite spectrums. It made for a hell of a gamble but a challenge he had come to thrive on.
“Morning, sir,” the café barista called out. As she did every morning when she noticed his approach, she was already preparing his usual espresso.
“Thank you, Sera. Punctual and on point as always.” Jarek smiled briefly at her as he took the coffee and headed for the executive elevator. His mind wandered as he walked. These morning routines anchored him, allowing him to pretend he was just another CEO starting his day. Inside these glass walls there was no blood on his hands, no empire built on broken bones.
The elevator hummed as it climbed to the forty-sixth floor. His reflection in the mirrored interior looked stoic. Last night’s memories of Tatiana crashed through his carefully constructed walls. Her taste, her fire, and the way she had surrendered in his arms flooded his mind. It reminded him of the carefree relationship they had started to build before he married her. He smirked at the unwanted and sentimental thought.
“It was never about such nostalgic shit,” he muttered as he sipped on his coffee. Besides, he had been right that Tatiana’s submission wouldn’t extend past sunrise.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered as he tugged on his tie. This morning, she had barely acknowledged him at breakfast, radiating a frosty attitude and furious glares across the table. He had seen it coming, predicted her retreat into anger, but it still got under his skin. Although it hadn’t slipped his attention that she had worn the pendant he had given her.
The doors opened to his domain. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased Boston Harbor with ships cutting white trails through the blue water. Modern art pieces worth millions hung on the walls, carefully selected to project success and sophistication.
Lisa Parnell, his executive assistant, looked up as he entered. “Mr. Farrel, Declan’s waiting in your office. He’s excited about some new acquisition target.”
“That man has too much energy on any given day,” Jarek grumbled as he pushed open his office doors. The space stretched out before him, showcasing Italian leather furniture, a custom mahogany desk, an informal seating area with plush sofas and chairs, and was finished off with a private bar stocked with rare scotch. It was a sanctuary of power and control, exactly as he had designed it.
Declan Byrne had earned his place here. The man’s sharp instincts served him well in both worlds. He was a respected underboss in the shadows and a brilliant executive in the light. His ability to spot profitable mergers had made Bolton Enterprises millions in legitimate wealth over the years.
“You look like shit,” Declan’s voice cut through Jarek’s thoughts. Sipping on a cup of coffee, he sat in one of the leather chairs with a stack of papers in his lap.
Jarek ignored the comment as he moved to the windows to stand at his favorite spot and stare out at the city.
“What have you got for me?”
“Morrison Tech is ripe for acquisition. Their stock has taken a hit, but their R&D department...” Declan’s voice faded as Jarek’s attention drifted.
The legitimate world still felt like a costume some days, but here in this building, he could almost believe in it and forget the other half of his life... almost, but not quite. For a brief moment, he was caught in a memory of the hustle and bustle of life as a medical doctor dealing with a busy practice. He shook it off. It was in a different lifetime. He had accepted years ago that he could never go back.
“Are you even listening?” Declan’s chair creaked as he leaned forward. “What’s haunting that sharp mind of yours?”
Tatiana’s face kept appearing in the glass. It was as if her sapphire eyes were haunting him. He couldn’t forget the memory of her soft and yielding body against his... only to be contrasted by the ice in her voice this morning. He had told himself it was just sex, a fulfillment of the payment due. Except he hadn’t counted on how her hatred would affect him. There was no denying that even because of that, her submission last night had awakened something deeper inside him... but he wasn’t ready to give it a name or even acknowledge it. Again... falling for the bastard’s granddaughter had never been part of the plan.
“Focus,” he growled at his reflection.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Russian, would it?” Jarek clenched his jaw at Declan’s knowing tone.
“The Morrison deal. Walk me through it.” Forcing his mind back to business, Jarek turned from the window. He had meetings to run, deals to close, and a bastard Russian Pakhan’s life to ruin. He couldn’t afford these distractions. But even as he settled behind his desk, her scent lingering in his mind was a ghost he couldn’t shake.
Declan smirked but didn’t push further. Instead, he spread the documents across Jarek’s desk.
“Their stock dropped forty percent last quarter,” Declan pointed to a graph.
Jarek leaned forward in his chair. With his fingers steepled under his chin, he studied the financials. Morrison Tech’s numbers told a compelling story of a company with solid fundamentals struggling with leadership and direction.
“Their CEO’s divorce scandal hit the papers. The Board is losing confidence in his leadership.”
“What about the R&D department?” Jarek’s eyes narrowed onto a particular section of the report.
“That’s the gold mine.” Declan’s face lit up. “They’ve got three patents pending for AI-driven security systems. Military-grade stuff. The Department of Defense is already showing interest.”
Jarek stood and paced behind his desk. The business predator in him recognized the opportunity.
“Do we know their asking price?”
“That’s the beauty of it. They don’t know we’re interested yet. We can grab controlling shares for about sixty percent of actual value if we move fast.”
“Competition?”
“Two venture capital firms are sniffing around, but they’re focused on the commercial side. They don’t see the potential in the defense contracts.”
Jarek stopped pacing with a small smile playing on his lips. This was exactly the kind of legitimate acquisition he loved—clean, profitable, with long-term potential.
“Start buying shares through our shell companies. Keep it quiet. I want position papers on my desk by tomorrow morning.”
“Already on it.” Declan gathered the documents. “One more thing. Their Chief Technology Officer is looking to jump ship. Might be worth having a conversation.”
“Set it up.” Jarek’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, surprised to notice it was a message from Tatiana. His jaw tightened, but he ignored it. “Anything else?”
Declan hesitated. “Just... don’t let personal stuff cloud this one, boss. Morrison Tech could be our biggest legitimate win yet.”
Jarek’s glare shot daggers at his friend. “When have I ever let personal matters interfere with business?”
Jarek stared at the Morrison Tech proposal, but his mind kept circling back to the bigger game. Tatiana was also supposed to be just another piece on his chessboard. He had planned it meticulously—marry the granddaughter, shake the Pakhan’s control and his confidence, and watch his empire crumble. Simple. Clean. Emotionless.
But that inner voice, the one he had tried to silence in the elevator, mocked him now. She wasn’t just a pawn anymore. He was starting to doubt she ever was. That thought annoyed him more than any threat Gregor could make.
“Never,” Declan admitted, breaking into his thoughts. “But you’ve never had someone like Tatiana Polov in your carefully controlled world either.”
Jarek’s jaw clenched. “She’s a means to an end, nothing more. The mighty Pakhan is already losing his grip. His allies are abandoning him, and his business partners are getting nervous. Even his own men are starting to whisper.” His lips curved into a cold smile. “Taking his empire would’ve been enough, but watching his pride shatter? That’s priceless.”
“Maybe.” Declan leaned forward with his expression turning grave. “Deny it all you want, boss—that woman has gotten under your skin in ways you never planned for.”
“My relationship with my wife isn’t your concern.” Jarek’s voice could have frozen hell. “Nothing has changed. Gregor Polov’s fall is inevitable.”
“And then what?”
“He’s a proud man, Declan. When everything is gone, when he has lost it all...” Jarek’s eyes held a distant look. “I won’t even have to pull the trigger myself.”
“You think he’ll eat his gun?” Declan watched him with a guarded expression. “That’s a dangerous assumption. Gregor’s been quiet, too quiet. Men like him don’t just accept defeat. They strike back harder and nastier, and I don’t believe it would matter to him that his own granddaughter might be caught in the crossfire. We need to watch our backs.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Jarek stood with controlled but tense movements. “Why do you think I’m paying an inside man seven figures? Gregor can’t take a piss without me knowing about it.”
“And you are sure we can trust that motherfucker?”
“Trust?” Jarek barked out a laugh. “In our world? Hell, no, but I trust his love of money. He knows exactly what happens to traitors—and to their loved ones..”
“Ah, the golden handcuffs.” Declan nodded. “Still—”
“Still nothing.” Jarek cut him off. “Money is power. It buys loyalty, silence, and information. I have built my empire on that truth. Gregor is slowly learning just how powerful money can be when it turns against you.”
His phone buzzed again. It was another message from Tatiana. This time, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing at it. That small gesture didn’t escape Declan's notice.
“Just be careful, boss. Love can blind even the smartest men.”
“Love?” Jarek's expression turned to stone. “You’re delusional and very close to overstepping the line, Declan. This meeting is over. Get those Morrison Tech numbers to legal.”
Alone in his office, Jarek allowed himself one moment of honesty. Declan was a brave man who had faced death more times than he could count. He was also more astute than Jarek liked about what Tatiana made him feel.
“Except I’m not going to allow emotions to fuck up my vengeance. Having a happy life and a family with Gregor Polov’s most prized granddaughter is exactly what will completely break him. That’s the payment and what this is all about. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Picking up his phone, his thumb hovered over the message notification. His eyes darkened as he stared at the two message notifications. He never hesitated like this—not over business deals, not over ordering hits, or anything in his life. Yet here he was, fighting an urge to read her words immediately.
“Pathetic,” he growled, disgusted with his own weakness as he opened the messages. The first was curt, businesslike: “Meeting with Harrison at 2. The TAP United Logistics deed transfer requires your signature.”
The second made his chest tighten: “Unless you’re too busy destroying what’s left of my grandfather’s empire.”
Jarek set the phone down carefully, too carefully. The bitter edge in her words shouldn’t affect him. This was exactly what he had wanted—her anger and her hatred. It made dealing with the situation simpler. Cleaner.
Walking to the bar, he poured himself two fingers of scotch.
“Well, it’s fucking midday somewhere in the world,” he muttered. It was barely past ten in the morning. The amber liquid caught the morning light as he swirled it, remembering how she had looked that day when he showed her the new headquarters for the first time. For a brief moment, he had seen genuine excitement in her eyes as she walked through the space he had designed specifically for her.
“It meant nothing,” he said as he stared out of the window. The city sprawled below—his city, built on calculated moves and cold precision. Not on feelings. Never on feelings.
His phone buzzed again. A third message: “The new headquarters was a nice touch, husband . Another chess move to showcase your power?”
The word ‘husband’ hit him like a physical blow. He had married her for revenge. But that building... he had spent hours with the architects, ensuring every detail would please her. That hadn’t been about revenge. That had been something else entirely. He frowned as he thought it through. It was born of a grand desire to see genuine joy light up those azure eyes, to prove he could give her more than her grandfather ever had. He had chosen the south-facing windows because she once mentioned loving morning light.
Every decision, from the marble imported from the same Italian quarry she had used in the Atlanta building to the custom security system that would keep her safe without making her feel caged. All of them had been driven by an impulse he refused to name. He had told himself it was about maintaining the demand for payment and playing the devoted husband as he had promised. But late at night, reviewing plans until his eyes burned, he now knew the truth. He wanted to give her something that was purely hers, untainted by their families’ war. A place that could be her sanctuary, her strength, her future—with or without him.
It was the first time over the past twenty years that he had built something not for power or profit but for the simple hope of seeing someone else’s happiness. The realization made him uncomfortable, but although he had proclaimed her as collateral in this war with Gregor, she was still the innocent party... and a beautiful, sensual, seductive woman.
“Fucking hell,” he said in a clipped voice as he downed the scotch in one swallow before typing a curt reply: “2 p.m. I'll be there.”
Short. Professional. Nothing like the words fighting to get out, nothing like the urge to tell her how he had watched her that day, mapping every smile and every gesture of approval as she had toured her new domain.
He set the phone face down on the desk and opened the Morrison Tech files. “Get your fucking head out of the clouds, Farrel.” Apart from pulling off this deal, he also had another blow to strike against Gregor that needed his attention. He couldn’t afford to let blue eyes and soft skin distract him from victory when it was so close.
But even as he immersed himself in acquisition strategies and profit margins, annoyingly, a part of him counted the hours until two o’clock.