Chapter 20 - Sayid
As I step into the dimly lit club lounge, the scent of aged whiskey and expensive cigars clings to the air. The atmosphere is refined yet private, a place where men of power could speak freely without fear of prying ears. My security had already swept the area, ensuring there were no surprises.
It had been a couple of days since I had taken Nora completely, making her mine. It was everything I have ever dreamed of, and then some. I will never get enough of her, and the way she makes me feel, absolutely complete. I spend the hours she is gone at work, absolutely lost in thought, counting down till she returns.
I know one thing for certain, I would not risk Tyson, Dr. Kasey, or anyone else getting close to her ever again. I walk through the club lounge, intent on making my claim clear. At the far end of, seated in a plush leather chair, is Ivan Pavlova. He is an imposing man, not in size, but in the quiet confidence he exudes.
His salt-and-pepper hair is neatly combed back, and I appreciate his effortlessly tailored expensive suit. A crystal glass of vodka rests in his hand, untouched, as he watches my approach with a mild curiosity. “Prince Hassan,” he greets me smoothly, his accent is thicker than mine, but his English polished. “Or should I say Amir ?” I take the seat across from him, meeting his gaze with a measured calm.
“Sayid is just fine. Titles don’t concern me, Mr. Pavlova. Power and resolution does.”
He smirks, nodding approvingly. “Then we understand each other.” A server approaches, setting a glass of scotch in front of me without needing to ask my preference. I let the silence stretch as I take a slow sip, my gaze never leaving Pavlova’s.
“You didn’t have to agree to this meeting,” I finally said. “Yet, here we are.”
He chuckles, setting his glass down. “And you didn’t have to seek me out, yet here you are. It seems we both appreciate handling things directly.” He leans back, studying me. “You are a man who does not like loose ends.”
“No,” I admit, “I do not. It is the uncertainty it imposes that I detest.”
A slow nod. “Then let’s get to it. You’ve taken an interest in Tyson Ross. A name I hear more frequently than I’d like these days.” He lets a slight smirk creep across his lips.
My fingers drum lightly against the armrest. I match his smirk. “But you’ve taken an interest in helping him.”
Pavlova exhales sharply through his nose. “I wouldn’t call it helping .” He swirls his vodka before taking a small sip. “More like… facilitating. He wanted a higher place in my business. He needed to prove his worth, and in return I let him indulge his own desire, to obtain something he values.”
His cold blue eyes flicker to mine. My jaw clenches, but I remain impassive. “And that something was Nora?”
“Not explicitly,” he says, shrugging. “He lets his obsessions interfere with the quality of his work. That’s why I was willing to hear him out.” He leans forward slightly. “Tell me, Sayid—what is she to you?”
I hold his gaze, my next words deliberate. “She's everything.”
Pavlova studies me for a long moment before exhaling a quiet chuckle. “Then I suppose it is a good thing I did not proceed with our original arrangement. I don’t believe in unnecessary conflict, nor do I want any with you."
I am familiar with the way the men in the Pavlova's world handle their women. It was something we could not agree on. I lean forward, resting my forearms on the table. "Then tell me exactly what you were going to facilitate."
Pavlova sighs, as if already bored of the conversation. "Ross came to me looking for work. He had skills, but not many connections. What interested me most was his desperation. Men like him are either a liability or an asset. I intended to find out which." He paused, taking a long sip from his drink. "Then I learned why he was truly desperate. Miss Stevens."
I still, waiting for him to continue. My hands curl into fists beneath the table, but I remain outwardly composed. "Did you know what he planned to do?"
Pavlova chuckles. "I had suspicions. But I do not involve myself in the petty affairs of lesser men." His expression turns serious. "That being said, if I had known the full extent of his… obsession, I may have reconsidered my generosity. Tyson is reckless. A man like that is a liability. I do not gamble with liabilities,” he says, sipping his drink. “But I also do not create unnecessary animosity. You and I both know that men in our position must weigh every move carefully.”
I incline my head slightly. “That, we can agree on.” I may not agree with the type of business he is involved in, or type of men he employs, but I can respect his position.
Pavlova met my gaze evenly. "I have no interest in keeping a man like Ross under my wing if it causes problems with someone like you." He swirls his drink again, taking a sip before sitting it down with a quiet clink. “Let me offer you a solution.” His gaze sharpens. “If you marry her, she becomes untouchable.”
A beat of silence. “Not just by me,” he clarifies. “By anyone who would seek to use her as leverage, as a bargaining chip. Your name carries weight, Amir . If she belongs to you, then she belongs to something far greater than a simple revenge ploy.”
He tilts his head. “And should Tyson be foolish enough to go against you … well.” He gave a lazy shrug. “I wouldn’t have to weigh my options. I would handle him myself before I ever allow a conflict with you.”
I take a slow breath, absorbing his words. This is not a threat. It is a warning. A gift, in its own twisted way. He is telling me exactly what I already knew—Nora is safest by my side. And if I made it official, there would be no place for men like Tyson, or Dr. Kasey, to slither back in.
Pavlova leans back. “You may not like my business or my methods, but I respect power. And more importantly, I respect those who protect what is theirs.” He lifts his glass slightly in my direction. “And you, Amir , are a man who does exactly that.”
I pick up my own drink, holding his gaze as I take another sip. “Then we have an understanding, Comrade.”
Pavlova lifts his glass in a silent toast before downing the rest of his drink. "We do." Tyson Ross has no idea just how small and insignificant his world was about to become.