Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
ALEKSEI
Istay as long as I can, making sure she’s okay. It hasn’t been a bad experience, either. Kade made something edible. I’m not sure I’d ask for it again, but it served its purpose of feeding us.
Once done, both her guards cleared the table, and the three of them started playing cards in the way old friends would, with lots of banter where her trademark dry humor flowed as effortlessly as her laughter.
Seeing her relaxed does something to my insides. Hearing her laugh is fast becoming a motivation. When she is happy and relaxed, her scent blossoms like standing in the middle of a field of vanilla flowers after a spring sun shower.
She’s softer and more generous with her attention, and a lot more tactile.
Clearly, she feels safe. She pushed the chair around to face the room, then curled herself into the chair closest to the fire and promptly fell asleep while Kade and Santiago were working, doing whatever it is they do, on their computers and phones.
“I’m going to meet Sergey. Other people will be back before he and I return. Don’t open the door for anyone, and it’s better if you stay in here if I am not here. Tomorrow, I will introduce you to the guards who patrol the house, but not tonight.”
Kade stands up and comes closer, so our talking doesn’t wake Quinn. “Is there anything we should know?”
“All the guards are carrying weapons and have been instructed to kill first and explain later. About half of them take regular instruction in army hand-to-hand combat from a general that defected to the Bratva.”
Santiago joins us. “The only move I will be showing is how fast my trigger finger is.”
“Sergey and I have work to do, so we will be out at our warehouses, but he will be inviting his closest associates to enjoy themselves in his home while we are out.”
“Enjoy themselves? As in a party?” Santiago scoffs.
A wave of the usual darkness I associate with my brother's narcissistic lifestyle threatens. Rubbing my hand down my face, I breathe slowly, not needing either Kade or Santiago to add their own disdain.
“Don’t open the door. I will return at some point. Nalla will be with me and Roshka will stay with her.”
“Aleksei,” Santiago interrupts my leaving, “I need more insight into what we might be dealing with.”
“Sergey is a powerful man. He likes to flaunt his power, and he likes to indulge in what the underworld is famous for. All his guests will be treated to anything they want—women, drugs, sex, violence. It will flow like water.”
“That’s pretty normal,” Kade says softly.
“It is.”
“And I assume he partakes?”
“The Petrov Bratva does not deny himself anything.”
I struggle with how much to tell. The conundrum I suffer is a personal first. I want them armed with as much information as possible to protect her, but there are parts of Sergey, and his activities, that bring me endless guilt and crippling shame.
He is my brother, and since he won’t take responsibility for his actions, I feel that is my duty.
Leaving the mansion open to his associates makes me feel sick to the stomach.
I asked him not to, especially considering Dmitri’s men attacking Quinn.
Bambi, or one of his other mistresses, would have whispered in his ear, leading him by his dick and ego, putting him and his empire at risk.
For a powerful man, my brother is unbelievably malleable.
Though he defends them vehemently whenever I point it out, he’s left himself open to attack again.
In his mind, he has others whose only job it is to keep him alive.
As soon as I have the evidence needed on who is sourcing the children and Omegas for him, I will take full advantage of the weak position Sergey has himself facilitated.
I slide my suit jacket on and fix the collar, bringing an end to our sharing.
“Watch Roshka, I have put him in work mode. He won’t hurt her, but if anyone is not calm around her, he will read it as a threat and attack. I will be back to collect her for her wedding.”
“Does she have anything left to wear? I thought everything was destroyed.”
“It was. Everything she lost will be replaced.” I keep it short and sweet. There’s no need to explain anything further to them.
Patting down to ensure I am armed is more about routine than questioning if I am ready. And then, because I need to see her one more time before I leave, I squat in front of Roshka, talking quietly to him in Russian while I watch her sleep and breathe in more of her scent.
“V sleduyushchey zhizni menya uzhe nichto ne otnimet u tebya, rodnaya.”
I don’t need to watch how loud I speak or hide what I am saying. None of them understand Russian, so my promise to Quinn that in our next life, nothing will take me from her falls on deaf ears.
Without another word, I leave them. I wait for Nalla because, like me, she had to say goodbye to her mate. Unlike me, Nalla and Roshka are open about the deep bond they share.
Checking the locks on the new door is unnecessary, but I still do it, along with another check of the construction work we did. It’s strong and not going anywhere.
I’m pulled away from where I want to be by a buzz in the air; it feels frantic and laden with panic. I follow the energy, finding the house manager and the lead chef huddled around a phone, Bambi’s demands loud enough for me to hear, even before I step foot into the office.
Plucking the phone out of the manager’s hands, I stare her down to submission.
“You know that is not how we do things. I don’t care who you are, you treat my staff respectfully.
You want something done, you are to use your fucking manners, blyad.
Sergey has asked this of you on more than one occasion. ”
She snarls at me for calling her a whore, but the shoe fits.
“What does Sergey want?” I ignore Bambi and look at the other two for a rundown.
Without the unnecessary emotion and demand, we work together through what is deliverable in the short amount of time the kitchen and house staff have, and what is not.
I keep Sergey’s blyad on the line so she can see how little effort it takes to treat people well.
Once everything is agreed on, I disconnect Bambi, then give firm instructions to all the staff listening to reach out to me if she continues being a problem.
Nalla and I are in my truck before any other issues are aired. Driving in the opposite direction I need to go, I work through calls I have missed or delayed making. There’s nothing standout, just the usual threats and promises, made to those we work with and those who work for us.
When I double-park in front of the Chanel store, Nalla hops out first and does a good job of scaring off customers who were about to venture inside.
“Mr. Petrov.” The older of the two associates greets me as she steps out from behind the counter.
It’s not the first time I have been here, but it is the first time I have spent my money here.
“I have everything ready.” Her hand waves to the rack that holds garment bags from other boutiques besides Chanel.
“Thank you,” I offer, along with a wad of cash for her time.
“Goodness, no.” She averts her eyes and steps back.
It’s not pride that moves me forward; it’s that I’m positive Quinn would be grateful people went out of their way for her. “I insist. Share it with the others.”
I drop the wad of cash on the edge of the counter, as opposed to pushing it into her hands, leaving it up to her if she accepts. Nalla sits relaxed at the large glass doors as I roll the entire rack to the car, packing it quickly so we can get on to the tedium of going to the warehouse.
I call Sergey as soon as I merge into traffic, not at all surprised it goes straight to voicemail. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
The lie rolls off my tongue. I mean, I could be there in under ten, but first I want to pay a quick visit to see if Larisa has anything final to share.
On the flight to and from Ireland, I must have watched the video of Larisa and Quinn a hundred times or more. Am I up for hurting women? Not particularly. But in our world, it’s an eye for an eye, irrespective of your designation or gender.
If Larisa was simply being a cunt to Quinn, I’d punish her differently.
But Larisa is currently gagged and blindfolded in a small cell in one of our storage facilities because, despite her telling everyone she and Dmitri are over, I’ve got proof otherwise.
The two of them acted too soon. They should have waited until after the wedding before trying to kill Quinn.
I won’t let myself get caught up in all the what-ifs. Instead, Larisa won’t see another sunrise, and Dmitri will follow her straight to hell as soon as I find him. The gutless bastard has gone to ground, leaving his lover to face the consequences on her own.
The storage facility I have hidden Larisa in is one of ours.
And this business has paid off, though the running expenses are high.
But that’s because of the level of security we offer to people looking to store whatever it is they need, with a few exceptions.
It’s shocking that all the small criminals who use our facilities actually trust us.
I never would, but we have a waiting list of people keen to be clients.
As I pass through the first lot of gates, the guards roaming stay in position.
The second checkpoint provides access to the huge warehouse, and I drive past other customers unloading their goods down to the final area, which is where we keep absolutely nothing of value.
It would be bad for business, though, if we didn’t show up and do something here.
Leaving the car running, I flick off a text to the “cleanup” crew, letting them know I’ll be leaving something for collection within minutes.
“Nalla.” I call her into the passenger seat and lower the window so she can get out if needed.