13. Ruslan
13
RUSLAN
Moscow’s sky presses heavy over the city, gray and wet and pissed off—kind of like me.
I sit at a private corner table in one of the city’s most exclusive five-star hotels, trying to make it through lunch with a woman whose idea of negotiation involves a deep neckline, breathy sighs, and a not-so-subtle foot brushing against mine under the table.
Valentina is beautiful in that too-polished, high-maintenance way that always sets off warning bells.
Her dress clings to her surgically enhanced curves.
Her lips curve into a smile that says she’s not here for the lobster bisque or to discuss her very serious case.
“Ruslan,” she says, my name like a promise.
“You’re far more uptight than I remember.”
I sip my bourbon, swirling the amber liquid before swallowing it.
“I’m professional. There’s a difference.”
“But we’re not in your office. And I didn’t come here just to talk about my case.” She leans forward, her silk blouse slipping just enough to offer a clear view of the double D's her husband paid for. “I came here to talk about fucking you. It’s been years since we fucked last and you were such a God in bed.”
My brow lifts. “Blunt.”
“I’ve learned to stop wasting time,” she says, lips painted blood red to match her nails. Her gaze drips heat. “I’ve always admired your... firm grasp of the law and how good you are with your hands in other areas.”
She trails her finger along the rim of her glass like it's my collarbone she’s teasing.
Subtlety isn’t her thing.
“I’m flattered,” I say, setting down my bourbon.
“But you’re my client, Valentina. That complicates things.”
“I like complicated.” Her lips part in a mock pout.
“Besides, I was your client when you bent me over your desk two years ago.”
“That was before you were married.”
And now she’s married to one of my most influential clients.
I had to clean up her financial mess so her also insanely rich father could ensure her future husband was protected from Valentina’s scandal.
It was just a few quick fucks in my office.
Which were fun as the woman sucks cock like a pro and likes to take it in every hole she has.
But it didn’t go beyond that, and I’m not at all interested now.
Especially as I still have a slow-burning poison coursing through my veins from a one-night stand that haunts me every waking hour and makes me feel like I’m impotent, as I can’t seem to get aroused by anyone else.
And that’s after just one night with Tara Craft—it’s a good thing I didn’t go ahead with my plan to keep her on a hook and woo her away from Gavriil.
Because I’m sure it would be me on the hook.
Fuck!
I down the rest of my drink and let it burn away the tension coiling in my gut from letting my mind stray back to Tara fucking Craft.
“Oh poo!” Valentina pouts prettily.
“My husband has never satisfied me like you do.” Her eyes glitter with lust.
I open my mouth to shut her down again when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
I glance down and see the name flashing across the screen.
Konstantin.
Thank fuck.
“I need to take this,” I say, standing.
Her gaze follows me with annoyance.
“Konstantin,” I answer as I step out of the restaurant lounge and into the quieter hallway, finding an out-of-the-way corner.
“Where have you been? I sent a message to you two days ago.”
“I got it,” Konstantin tells me.
“I haven’t had time to respond.”
Since when has Konstantin not had time to respond?
My brow furrows as suspicion rises.
But I bite it down.
I’m just being paranoid because of the mission I’ve got him on.
“Do you have information?”
“I do,” he replies.
“I found out what was in the puzzle box.”
I pause.
There’s something in his voice.
Something different.
I shake it off and put it down to my annoyance with my client.
“And?” I'm tense waiting for the response.
“All there was was a photo of Anya Novikov and a birth certificate.”
That hits me square in the chest. I wasn’t told what was on the birth certificate, but I want to know. “A birth certificate? For whom?”
“Lidiya Zorin.”
I frown. “Zorin?” What the fuck? “Isn’t that Leonid’s sister?”
“No. This girl would be too young as she was born in 1998. So I doubt it’s his sister. More like a daughter or a niece.”
“Surely it would’ve listed the parents?” Another bit of information the general hadn’t given me.
The only information I’m sure of is that Tara is his granddaughter and Leonid was his son-in-law. I don’t even know his daughter’s name, and all records pertaining to the general and Anya, I don’t have clearance for. There isn’t other online information about their family either. But that’s not surprising as they are both tied to the RMSAD, and they go to great lengths to protect the identities of their employees and employees' families.
“No. It’s not a full birth certificate, ” Konstantin tells me.
“It just lists the child's name, birth date, and the hospital she was born in. No parents.”
“We need to find the full one.”
“Already on it,” Konstantin assures me, and again, there’s that edge to his voice.
Something sharp lodges in my throat as I wonder if it’s guilt. “How’d you get this information?”
There’s a pause. Just a beat too long.
“Are you still there?” My voice drops. My gut clenches. “Konstantin?”
“I followed them to Moscow,” he says finally.
My heart slams in my chest. “Tara’s in Moscow?”
“She came with Gavriil.” His voice is low and in the tone you deliver news like a loved one has died or your best friend was fucking your partner… I grit my teeth.
“Where is Irina?”
“Back in Vegas.”
His words explode through my system. I don’t hear the rest. Not over the roar in my ears. My hand grips the edge of a marble column so hard I think I might crack it. I can picture them—together—in my city. My territory.
“Why?” I clear my throat. “Why are they in Moscow?”
“They were digging into the birth certificate.” Another pause. “Tara thinks the birth certificate may be hers.”
“Has she cause to believe that?” I ask, my breath shallow.
“The birthdate is the same as hers, and they are here trying to find out who the parents on the certificate are,” Konstantin informs me.
“Does she think that Carla and Sol Craft are not who she’s grown up to believe they are?”
“I think she knows that her father isn’t really Sol Craft,” Konstantin tells me. “But Tara’s hoping that if she is Lidiya Zorin that the full birth certificate will tell her who her real mother is.”
“Carla Craft isn’t her biological mother?” That’s another bit of information the general left out. I’m getting a bit pissed off with the general, especially when I thought we had joined forces.
“No.” Konstantin tells me the story that Tara’s parents told her about her mother. “Her real mother’s name is Lena, but her parents never mentioned a last name.”
“You got all this information by following them?”
Quiet again. “No.” The catch in his voice again.
I nod and close my eyes, breathing through the need to smash something. You were with this woman for one fucking night! I remind myself.
“There’s something else you should know.”
Just by that lilt in his voice, I can tell he’s kept the worst news for last, and I brace myself.
“When I ran into Tara and Gavriil in Moscow to find out what they were up to, they were at the hospital.”
“Is Tara hurt?” My mind immediately jumps to the worst case—Gavriil abusing her.
“No.” Konstantin’s tone is clipped. “Tara’s two weeks pregnant!”
It’s like the floor shifts beneath me.
My voice comes out lower. “His?”
“Yes.”
“The fucking bastard.” I can barely contain my rage now. “Gavriil can’t get his wife pregnant, so he goes and knocks up his mistress?” I run my hand through my hair. “Perfect,” I mutter. “Just fucking perfect. Irina’s trying to worm her way out of her mission, and this will be her golden fucking ticket.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about Tara and Gavriil anymore,” Konstantin says.
I laugh bitterly. “Why’s that? You killed him?”
“Tara has ended it. He’s not involved anymore. She plans to raise the baby alone.” Konstantin's words make me breathe a little easier, but my gut is still twisted in conflicting knots.
That changes things a bit. “So Tara is doing this alone?
”
“With my help.” This time there’s no apology or strain in his voice, just confidence.
That hits wrong.
“You two seem close.”
“I’m winning her trust,” Konstantin answers.
“Just like you asked me to.”
A beat of silence passes.
“Good.” My tone’s clipped.
I close my eyes and try to force my mind to focus.
“I also found out that they went to the hospital to meet a contact of Gavriil’s who was going to let them into the records room. Only when they got there, there were RMSAD guards waiting for them.”
So I am right.
This has RMSAD written all over it.
“I take it they didn’t get into the records room?”
“No.” Konstantin confirms.
“But the contact told them to be back at eight that night, only…”
“The hospital was ablaze, and the fire started in the records room,” I finish for him.
Fuck!
That fire had been deliberately set because someone was getting too close to finding out about Lidiya Zorin.
“Yes. Then, when they were going back to the Mirochin mansion, they were abducted,” Konstantin informs me.
“It was a woman who put them in a car, but hoods had blinded them and their hands were zip-tied so they couldn’t see who she was.”
“What the fuck!” I hiss.
“Is Tara okay?”
“She’s fine. The woman warned Tara she was in danger if she stayed in Russia and took them to the Mirochin jet,” Konstantin says.
“They’ve gone back to Vegas.”
“Did you try to find out who abducted them?” I say, alarmed.
“I tried to. But there was a convenient power surge around that time that knocked most of the cameras around that area out,” Konstantin’s words make me go cold.
“So it was someone who knew what they were doing!” This just gets better and better.
“How did your meeting with the Zorins and General Morozov go?” Konstantin asks.
I lie without hesitation.
“Dead end.”
“That’s tough. I’m sorry,” he says.
“At least you’re getting some answers,” I point out.
“You still want me to stay close to Tara?” he asks.
My jaw clenches.
I can hear from his voice that something is shifting in him.
Everything in me wants to scream no.
Stay the fuck away from her.
But that’s not the man I can afford to be right now.
“Yes,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Keep watching her. If she’s going through this pregnancy alone, I want someone nearby. Keep her safe.”
“I will.”
There’s a pause.
Then Konstantin says something I don’t want to hear.
“You know, Tara is carrying a Mirochin heir. Blood is blood, and you know how the Mirochins are about their family line.”
“She’s not carrying the right heir,” I snap.
But even as I say it, I know—an heir is an heir.
And it could work for our plan.
For Morozov’s plan.
The line goes dead.
And before I can dwell on what any of this means, I feel a hand curl around my waist.
Then dip lower.
Red fingernails slide into my waistband.
Valentina.
“There it is,” she purrs.
Her palm finds my cock, stroking slowly.
“Mmm. He’s waking up.”
For a second, I close my eyes.
Let it build.
But then Tara’s face flashes in my mind.
Her mouth.
Her body.
The sound she made when I buried myself inside her and made her forget her name.
Every ounce of arousal withers.
I grab Valentina’s wrist and yank it from my pants.
Her eyes flare with surprise as I stand and button my jacket.
“I told you, this isn’t going to happen,” I say coolly.
“You didn’t have a problem fucking me before.”
“Before you married my client.”
“If you leave now,” she narrows her eyes threateningly, “I’ll tell him you came on to me. That you couldn’t take no for an answer.”
I lean in close, just enough for her to feel the shift.
“Try it. See what he believes when I show him your text messages and the surveillance from this hotel.” My eyes narrow dangerously.
“Your husband may be blinded by you, but he is no fool.”
Her mouth drops open slightly.
She wasn’t expecting that.
“I’m done here,” I say.
“You’ll need to find another attorney.”
I turn and walk out, not bothering to glance back.
Pavel, my driver, is already standing beside the black sedan.
“Trouble?” he asks, watching the woman through the glass doors as he pulls the car door open
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I reply, getting in.
“I keep telling you, boss. That face of yours? Blessing and a curse.”
“Fuel the jet,” I say, rolling my eyes at him.
He starts the car.
“Where are we headed?”
I look out the window, jaw tight.
“Vegas.”
He glances at me in the rearview.
“Business?”
My voice is quiet.
“To fetch my future wife,” I tell Pavel, my voice cool and final.
He whistles low under his breath.
“Want me to call Konstantin?”
“No, Pavel. This time, you’re riding shotgun. Konstantin has his own mission.”
And while I’m going to collect what’s mine, I might just sneak up on him.
.
.
see how deep he’s gotten himself into it.
Fuck.
Now I’m sneaking up on my best friend.
Jesus.
I’ve tried to stay out of her life, but every excuse I make to dig into her is just that—an excuse.
My plans?
They’ve gone completely off course.
I’ve even aligned myself with the general.
And I can lie to myself all I want—it’s not about the treasure.
It’s not about rebuilding the Dragunov legacy.
It’s about her.
From the moment I looked into her eyes in the middle of that road, something snapped loose inside me.
Then fate threw her into my lap, and once I lost myself inside her.
.
.
Game over—my world, my plans shifted.
My denial hasn’t protected me—it’s just turned want into obsession.
And fuck the treasure.
Fuck the bloodlines.
Fuck the heir.
I want her.
And I’ll be damned if I let another man lay a hand on her again.
We’re five minutes from the private hangars when my phone lights up with a secured line.
General Morozov.
I accept the call, already annoyed at whoever’s interrupting my first good decision in weeks.
“General.”
“You need to get to RMSAD headquarters. Right now.”
His voice is low, cold, and controlled.
The kind of tone that means shit’s hit the fan.
“Can it wait?” I ask.
“I’m on my way to Vegas.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Are you already on the plane?”
“No,” I grit out.
“I’m five minutes from the airport.” I feel the muscles in my jaw lock.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s your sister.”
That stops me cold.
“Nadia broke into a secure RMSAD site. She’s in custody.”
“For fuck’s sake!” I slam my hand against the back of the seat.
“What the hell was she thinking?”
“She wasn’t,” the General replies.
“And while I understand your... priorities, Vegas can wait.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, my vision narrowing with fury.
“I should leave her there and let her rot. She keeps pulling this reckless bullshit and expects me to clean it up.”
“We don’t need this kind of attention right now,” the general says quietly.
“Get there. Handle it. Quietly.”
I stare out the window, the hangars drawing closer.
Tara’s face flashes in my mind.
Her lips.
Her voice.
The soft, forlorn last look she gave me before sneaking out of my room, thinking I was asleep.
But the moment’s gone.
I kill the call and toss the phone on the seat beside me.
“Change of plans,” I bite out.
Pavel glances at me in the rearview mirror.
“Where to?”
“RMSAD headquarters.”
He doesn’t ask questions.
He turns the car around without a word, tires humming against the asphalt as we reroute.
I lean back in the seat and close my eyes, fists clenched, fury simmering just under the surface.
Nadia’s used her last fucking free pass.
This time, I’m done with the warnings.
When I’m finished at RMSAD, she’ll be on lockdown.
Confined to Dragunov Village under the watchful eye of our cousin Agafan.
And if she so much as tries to cross the boundary, there will be consequences.
Family or not.