Chapter 18
SERGEI
B y the time I step into my office, I’ve put all thoughts of Nicole behind me. Compartmentalizing is the only way I survive days like this. Nicole’s a puzzle for later; right now, I need to focus on work. Otherwise, important things could slip through the cracks.
I cross to my desk, undo my cuff links, and settle in front of the computer.
The monitor flickers to life with a low hum, spilling a secure thread of emails and alerts across the screen.
Shipment schedules, payment verifications, and security logs embedded in lines of sensitive data scroll across the screen.
I skim the files, my eyes narrowing when I reach an entry flagged in red.
Shipment Delay
A delay isn’t unusual; most are out of anyone’s control. But in the wake of the attack, the timing feels wrong and suspicious. I open the email to read the report.
Two vans were rerouted after the drivers suspected they were being tailed.
One driver reported a drone shadowing his route near the East River drop zone.
Another said a black SUV idled a few blocks from the warehouse, cutting across his route.
The vehicle was unmarked, but he swears he saw someone recording through the tinted window.
I lean back, fingers steepled under my chin as I think. It fits Semion’s pattern. He’s pulled this kind of shit before with other organizations. Before I can dwell on it, a sharp knock rattles the door.
“Come in,” I call, not looking up.
Sasha strides in without waiting for a second invitation. His coat hangs half-buttoned, tie loose, as though he abandoned whatever he was doing mid-stride. His jaw is clenched, and I know before he says a word that he’s pissed.
“You heard anything about Semion?” he asks.
I exhale slowly, then nod toward the couch. “Close the door. Sit.”
He obeys, albeit reluctantly. His foot drums against the hardwood, fingers twitching on his knee.
I study him for a beat before answering. “He’s been radio silent. He hasn’t claimed the attack.”
“That’s not good,” he says. “It’s been a week. You think they’re waiting for us to make the next move?”
“Maybe,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Or maybe they’re watching to see whether we’ve figured out it was them.”
“But it was them.”
“Most likely.”
“They knew where we’d be. They hit that drop clean, with no hesitation. They took out our men like they had the fucking blueprints for our whole operation.”
“And you want to what? March into their compound, guns blazing? Invite war to our front door?”
His mouth tightens. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea. At least then we’d control the narrative.”
I scoff, lean forward, and plant my elbows on the desk.
“You think that’s control? You think storming into Semion’s territory and spilling blood makes you powerful? All that does is light a match in a room soaked in gasoline.”
His expression darkens. “So, what, Pakhan ? We do nothing?” he asks, obstinate.
“I didn’t say that,” I answer patiently.
“Then what the hell are we doing, Sergei?”
Sasha’s a hothead to the core; he either needs to smash something or walk it off. He’s bound to do something dangerous with all this pent-up energy.
I meet his gaze, steady and unflinching. “We wait.”
He swears under his breath and stands, pacing like a caged animal. “I hate waiting.”
“I know you do. That’s why I’m handling it.”
“You’re too calm about this.”
“No,” I argue. “I’m being smart about this.”
I rise and round the desk.
“They want a reaction,” I continue. “They’re waiting to see if we lash out. If we do, they’ll bury us in excuses—and in bodies.”
He clenches his jaw, then drops his gaze and exhales sharply. “They killed Valentin, Serg.”
“I know.”
“We can’t just let them get away with it,” he presses.
I slap my palm on the desk. “I said I know.”
The silence stretches, thick and bitter.
I clap a hand on his shoulder. “I loved him, too,” I say more gently. “But if we act on emotion, we could lose everything.”
Sasha nods once, but I see the war still raging behind his eyes. He gets up and turns to go, but pauses in the doorway. “Are you sure that waiting is the right call?”
“No,” I admit. “But it’s the smartest one for now.”
“You seem weirdly relaxed,” he says after a moment.
I move behind my desk again. “Is that a problem?”
“No.” He shrugs. “I’m just surprised. There’s a lot going on right now, and you’re acting like you’re on a fucking tropical island. Things must be going well with Nicole.”
“I’m not discussing that.” I deadpan, irritated that he won’t drop the subject.
Sasha drops into the leather chair opposite me, studying me like a suspect under interrogation. “So that’s a yes.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t deny it either.”
I go back to scanning my emails.
He grins, satisfied. “Damn. You finally got some, didn’t you?”
“That’s none of your business,” I snap.
“I’m your brother,” he says, like that entitles him to the full play-by-play. “And more importantly, I’m your second-in-command. So if you bring someone new into your life, into this family, I do need to know what they know. Or don’t know.”
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I try to form a response. He waits patiently, and I know he won’t drop it until I give him something.
“She still doesn’t know anything about our business. I told her a little bit about the shipping enterprise, but she doesn’t know anything about our other endeavors.”
Sasha leans back in his chair, arms draped over the sides like a king on his throne. “She’s going to figure it out eventually,” he tells me, voicing my biggest fears.
“I’m aware.”
“It would be better if it comes from you.”
“Like I said.” I close the laptop and meet his eyes. “I’m aware. I’ll deal with it when the time is right.”
“So probably not right after you fuck her, right?”
“Watch your mouth,” I growl.
“Fix your shirt,” he shoots back. “You missed a button. I’m surprised you’re indulging in afternoon delight while we’re on the brink of a potential conflict.”
I scoff. “I’m not.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” He shrugs.
I turn away from him, toward the window. As casually as I can without drawing his notice, I try to fix my buttons.
“My head is in the game as much as it’s ever been,” I tell him with authority. “Nicole being here doesn’t change any of that.”
“So you’re not constantly obsessing that she’s sleeping one floor down from you? You aren’t constantly trying to find an alone moment with her?”
I shoot him a look, and he holds up his hands in mock surrender.
“I want you to be happy, brother, and I do like Nicole,” he says with sincerity. “All I’m saying is, if you want to keep her around, you better start thinking long-term. Because if she finds out from anyone but you, it’s going to blow up in your face.”
“I’ll tell her if and when the time comes,” I promise.
“Not that you asked me, but if I were in this situation, I would make sure that the time comes. It just takes one ill-placed newspaper article or one person showing up and asking her questions. And how can she possibly fall for you if she doesn’t know who you are?”
“I didn’t realize I was in the presence of Dr.Fucking Feelgood.”
Sasha rolls his eyes and flips me off. “This is a bad time for all of this,” he says, his voice low. “Any other time, I’d be thrilled that you’re getting some, but there’s so much at stake right now. If Semion tries to move in on us, I need to know that you’re not going to hesitate.”
“Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?” I shift uncomfortably, angry that my little brother is questioning my authority. “I told you, waiting is the smart move. It has nothing to do with my feelings for Nicole. It has to do with you not running in, guns blazing, and getting yourself killed.”
“Maybe that’s true,” he concedes. “But I also know that women can fuck with your head. I’m sure Nicole is great for you, but secrets aren’t good. And being distracted by those secrets is even worse.”
“And what if she can’t handle it?” I ask, my voice low.
Sasha considers this for a moment. “Then you’ll drink some top-shelf vodka and get back to business right away,” he answers without a hint of irony.
Vodka is our go-to therapist. “But you can’t worry about how she’s going to react if you refuse to ever actually tell her.
If I’ve learned anything about women in my thirty-seven years, it’s that they dislike secrets a lot more than they dislike difficult news. ”
“Where did you learn all this about women?” I tease. “You’re even worse at relationships than I am.”
“Ah, yes,” he agrees. “But I sleep with a lot more women than you do. So I’ve picked up a lot of useful information.”
“Is it yelled at you as you’re sneaking out the door?” I joke.
He laughs. “Sometimes hurled at me with my clothes.”
Neither of us speaks for a while after that. We sit in comfortable silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally, he speaks again.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re going to break her by telling her the truth, Sergei. But you might break yourself if you keep pretending she doesn’t deserve to know who you really are.”
I shake my head. “It’s all very new. I don’t even know why we’re talking about any of this.”
“She’s special,” he responds simply. “I can see it. Hell, even Mom can see it. You two are the ones who can’t seem to get your shit together.”
I consider this for a moment. Maybe we’re both scared and it’s getting in the way of something that could be really exceptional.
Or, maybe, we’re both right to be cautious.
There’s so much I don’t know about her, and clearly so much she doesn’t know about me.
If she ever found out the truth, there’s every chance that she would bolt and never speak to me again.
That’s one risk I’m just not willing to take.