Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
KIRILL
My sister’s frustrated sigh crackles through the phone. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s a few days in Manhattan. I’ll stay at your penthouse and I won’t go anywhere alone, I promise!”
I shift the Bugatti into park in front of Apollon, letting the valet wait while I finish this conversation. “Not this week, Katya.”
“But Papa’s in Russia this week. The timing is perfect. We can go shopping, see a show, try a new restaurant. Maybe hit a club.”
“Nice try.” I laugh. “Clubs are off limits until you’re legal, and even then you’re not going near one without an army of guards.”
“Oh my God, you’re impossible!” Her exasperation bleeds through the phone. “I’ll be an old lady before you let me have any fun at all.”
“Depends on your definition of fun. If rom-coms and crocheting are your thing, have all the fun you want.”
“Bozhe moy,” she mutters. God help me.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. You’re impossible. And I’ll remind you that I’m old enough to marry.”
“Yeah, that’s pretty fucked up now that you mention it.”
“What’s going on that I can’t visit my brothers?”
The longing in her voice tugs at my chest. Katya’s been isolated for too long, stuck in the estate with guards and tutors and nothing resembling fun. But with the Ghost operation less than two days away, I need her as far away from Manhattan as possible.
“You remember the Ghost, the reason Ruslan wanted to force you into marriage. We’re about to make a move on them with the Italians.”
“Wait, you’re working with the Valentis? How did that happen?”
“It’s a short-term partnership our fathers don’t need to know about. I’m pulling up to Apollon right now for Elio Valenti’s birthday party.”
“Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately,” I grumble.
Apollon's the last place I want to spend my Saturday night, but Elio made it clear my brothers and I needed to show up.
His soldiers need to see us together, need to believe the alliance is real enough that they'll stand side by side with our men when the fighting starts.
Hard to trust someone who won't even drink with you.
“Give me a week or two to take care of this shit,” I say. “The second it’s safe, you can come stay at the penthouse for as long as you want.”
“Like our father would ever allow that.” There’s a bitter edge to her tone.
“Leave that part up to me. But you have to trust me. Right now is not the time.”
If this works, she’ll never have to do anything she doesn’t want to again.
“Fine. But I’m holding you to this, Kiryusha ,” she says, using my childhood nickname. “And you’ll take me to a club. Maybe Apollon? I can show Elio what he missed out on.”
“ Svyatoy chert ,” I blurt, but my sister breaks into mischievous laughter.
“You know I’m just fucking with you, right?”
“Or trying to send me to an early grave.”
“Nah. I’ll keep you around a little longer. Even though you’re an overprotective ass.”
A smile tugs at my mouth. “Love you too, malen’kaya.”
We hang up, and I slide out of the car, tossing the keys to the valet. I turn toward the entrance.
Apollon is everything you’d expect from a Valenti club. Ostentatious and expensive.
A line snakes down the block, but I bypass it, heading straight to the door where a bouncer in a black suit nods me through without a word.
The main level is full of bodies packed onto the dance floor, strobes cutting through artificial fog, the air thick with perfume and sweat.
I take the stairs two at a time to the VIP section.
My brothers are already here. I’ll make an appearance, stay long enough to be polite, then get the hell out.
But blowing off Elio’s birthday would be an insult I can’t afford.
Everything rides on what happens in two days: Katya’s freedom, my own future, our entire position in this city.
The bass vibrates through the VIP section, a steady pulse that matches the headache building behind my eyes.
“You look like someone shit in your cereal,” Dem says, appearing at my elbow with a fresh drink for me. “Cheer up, brother. We’ve earned a night off.”
“Have we?” I don’t bother hiding my irritation. The operation’s in two days. We don’t have time for nights off.
“We’re as ready as we can be,” Matvey adds, joining us at the railing.
I take a sip of the whiskey instead of answering. There’s no such thing as being too prepared.
“Relax. Have a few drinks. Stay long enough to be polite, then you can disappear back into your cave.”
I grunt, taking another pull of whiskey.
The tension in the room doesn’t help me relax. We’re standing in a sea of Valenti soldiers, surrounded by men who not long ago would’ve put a bullet in our heads just for walking in here.
The alliance is new, fragile, built on necessity rather than trust.
Below us, the main floor writhes with bodies. Women are everywhere, dressed to kill, looking for attention, for money, for a good time.
Except none of them are her. I’ve stayed away from Velour for days because I can’t afford distractions. But she’s been in my head constantly.
Last night I drove past her building, thoughts circling back to her no matter how many times I tried to shut them down. Her light was on. I sat in my car for ten minutes, staring up at that window, wondering if I should say fuck it, go in, and end this madness.
“You know what your problem is?” Dem’s voice pulls me back. “You need to get laid.”
“Fuck off.”
“I’m serious. The place is swimming in pussy. Take your pick. Take two, in fact, but get your dick sucked already because I don’t think I can take much more of your grumpy ass.”
I scan the room, packed with Elio’s people. His soldiers, cousins, hangers-on, the kind of crowd that orbits every mafia family. Beautiful women drape themselves over men in expensive suits, but none of them register. There’s only one woman I want, and she’s not here.
“The Baronov brothers actually showed up. I’m touched.” Elio approaches, all swagger and confidence, every bit the mafia prince on his birthday.
“You didn’t give us much choice,” I mutter.
He spreads his arms with a grin. “Enjoy yourself, Baronov. The night is young.” He signals a waitress for another round.
Matvey smirks. “We invited a few ladies from Velour we saw on the main floor of the club. Thought you’d appreciate the extra talent.”
“What the fuck did you do?” I hiss at Matvey. “We’re supposed to be keeping this alliance quiet. The last thing we need is our employees mixing with Valenti’s crew, spreading rumors about how tight we are with the Italians.”
But my brothers are too drunk to care.
“Consider it our birthday gift to you,” Dem says, raising his glass at Elio.
“Kirill!” The shrill cry cuts through the music. Rada materializes at my side in a red dress cut so low the edge of her nipples is visible. “I hoped you’d be here tonight.”
I shoot Matvey a look that promises retribution. He knows Rada’s been after me for months. He invited her anyway, the asshole.
My brother grins and makes a crude gesture, mouthing, “You need to get laid.”
“Rada.” I keep my tone civil but cool. She works for me, which means I can’t be outright rude, but I’m not going to lead her on. “Enjoying the party?”
“I am now.” She closes the distance between us, and her cloying perfume settles around me. “You’ve been so busy lately. I feel like I never see you anymore.”
“I’ve been busy.”
My brothers scatter toward the bar where Elio’s handing out shots like a tattooed Santa wielding a bottle of Stoli instead of a sack of toys.
“Not too busy for a little fun.” Her finger trails over my bicep, nails scraping lightly. The contact makes my skin crawl. “You work too hard, Kirill. You need to relax. Let someone take care of you.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. She might as well have a neon sign flashing “fuck me” above her head.
Rada’s beautiful in the most uninteresting of ways. Perfectly styled hair, a forehead frozen smooth and lips pumped well past natural, body honed through hours at the gym. In my younger years, I would’ve taken her to a private room and emptied my balls inside her without thinking twice.
But looking at her now, all I see is everything she lacks.
She’s not interesting or surprising or genuine. She’s a puck bunny for the mafia set, chasing my net worth and status. She couldn’t care less who I am under this suit.
“You look tense.” She presses closer, her breasts brushing against my arm. “Dance with me.”
“I was just heading out,” I say, checking my watch like I've got somewhere important to be.
She pouts. “Come on. Just one song. I came here to see you.”
I step back, but Rada moves with me, persistent. Her hand lands on my chest, fingers splaying over my heart.
Across the room, a flash of blonde hair stops me cold.
“Who are you here with?” I ask, cutting off whatever she was saying.
“Oksana, Yeva, Klara, and…” Her expression sours. “The new girl.”
Evelina .
By the bar, a cluster of people shifts to reveal her.
She’s in a strapless black leather dress that makes my blood pressure spike and my fists clench. Her hair’s down, loose and wild, and every thought narrows to fisting my hands in those blonde strands while I fuck her from behind until she screams my name.
One of Elio’s soldiers, Marco, a cocky fuck I’ve met before, crowds into her space. His mouth hovers at her ear as he whispers something. Evelina’s shoulders lock up, tension radiating down her spine.
I’m seconds from reaching for the gun at my waistband when she turns her head and our stares collide. For a breath, her face lights up, happy to see me.
That look hits me square in the chest—proof she's been thinking about me too.
And then her gaze drops to Rada’s hand on my chest. The way she’s pressed against my side, all but draping herself over me.
Just like that, the light goes out of her eyes. Her expression shutters, hurt flashing across her features before she turns away from me. Like the sun disappearing behind storm clouds.
Fuck. I should’ve pushed Rada off the second she touched me. Now Evelina thinks I wanted this. Wanted Rada to touch me.
“Enough.” I grab Rada’s wrist and step back, putting distance between us. She stumbles in her heels and shoots me an offended glare.
“What the hell, Kirill!” Her pitch rises with indignation.
“I made it clear I’m not interested. Find another made man to hang off of. The place is full of them.”
“I would’ve if I knew what an asshole you are.”
She stalks away, but I don’t watch her go. I’m already searching the crowd for the only woman who’s ever mattered enough for me to chase.
But she’s no longer here.
And neither is Marco.