Chapter 6 Roman
ROMAN
Yegor's already at the table when I come down for breakfast. He has coffee in front of him and a folder open beside his plate, which means he's been working since before I woke up. He looks up when I sit down and slides the folder across the table at me.
"The fighter reports from last night, Boss," he says. "There are four worth keeping, maybe five if you wanna take a chance on the one with the shoulder injury."
I open the folder and scan the first page to see their names and ages, medical reports.
He's highlighted the important stuff for me.
"What did Kazimir think?" I look up as Sorin sets a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me, then serves me a glass of orange juice, and politely backs away.
I smile at her, nodding my thanks as Yegor answers me.
"He liked the one from Yekaterinburg. Said he moves well and takes hits without folding." He shoves a bite of food in his mouth and chews with his mouth open as I turn back to the folder.
"And Stepan?"
Yegor swallows hard and says, "Stepan wants the one who broke his opponent's jaw in under two minutes.
Thinks he'd be good for collections." He chuckles, but my cousin isn’t wrong.
Stepan has an eye for this sort of thing.
It takes a special fighter to do different tasks, and collection takes a man with backbone who's not afraid to hit hard.
I flip to the next page of thorough reports, and Yegor has already marked the ones he thinks are worth my time with a red pen.
He's got a good gut feeling, but I let all opinions weigh in when I'm talking about fighters.
A man is only as smart as his counsel, and if I were to make my choices based only on my opinion or that of my right hand, I'd be limiting myself.
"What about Timur?"
"Timur said to take all of them. But Timur always says that," Yegor says, talking with his hands while he chews again. His fork waves around in the air with a bit of egg on it. "Timur is a tech guy, Boss. What does he know about fighters?"
I close the folder and set it aside as Sorin comes back in with a pot of coffee and fills both our mugs without saying anything. She leaves the pot on the table and goes back to the kitchen. I take a drink and look at Yegor.
"You'd be surprised what Timur knows…" I sigh and push the folder away, still troubled by everything that happened last night with Ms. Radin and her family.
It's not cut and dry like I want it to be.
I can't just slide her onto my roster and turn a blind eye.
That girl is trouble, and I think her stepmother knows it too, which might be why she was sent to me.
Or maybe Mila is the good girl who's misunderstood and the stepmother is the one who's trouble.
Either way, it seems like for a short time, I'm going to have my hands full figuring out what's going on. It means I won’t have time to train fighters, and I’m not sure anyone else on my roster can fully handle the task without pestering me a million times.
Right now just isn't a good time to take any more fighters on.
"Now's not a good time to add more fighters, unfortunately. We'll have to wait a few weeks." I dig into my eggs, and they're heavenly like always. Rebecca and Sorin really know how to treat a man. Such a shame they aren't out finding someone to settle down with like Sonya did.
He raises his eyebrows. "Why not? Fresh blood's good for the ranks." He wipes his mouth and gawks at me while I chew and swallow politely before answering.
"We'll keep the five I picked out and send them to Kazimir to be lined up, but just have the others come back for the next round. I have a problem I need to deal with first."
Yegor cocks his head and shrugs one shoulder as he picks up his mug and sips. "The Radin girl."
"The Radin family," I correct, leaning back in my chair.
"Specifically, Vera Koval-Radin and this mess of her daughters…
" Anton never crossed my mind until last night, and now I can't get him or his legacy out of my mind.
I'm not the type for hostile takeovers. The way I run my organization is so streamlined and smooth, we hardly have to think about issues. But hearing all that real estate and authority are wide open has tempted me like a line of cocaine on an addict’s table.
Yegor hugs both hands around his coffee mug and asks, "What do you want to know about her?"
"Everything—I want to know if she's running the Radin organization or if someone else is pulling strings while she plays the widow.
" The food is delicious, but the more I talk, the colder it grows.
"And I want to know if Radin was her first husband.
Likely not, since she has two daughters who bear a different name.
So let's find out her past. And let's find out where she came from, what sort of life she's been living.
" Finally, I take another bite and chew thoughtfully while going over what I already know about Vera.
"You think she's more than she appears."
"I think she sent her stepdaughter to steal from me and then offered me her real daughters in the same breath.
That tells me something about what she values and what she's willing to do.
" It was such a disgusting slight of hand to feed me Mila like a ravenous beast devours prey while offering me temptation in the form of power with her other hand. It sickens me just thinking of it.
Yegor grunts and says, "I'll have Timur start digging. He's good at that shit, Boss."
"Yes," I grumble, "I know… Tell him I want it done quietly. No one needs to know I'm asking about Vera yet."
"And the girl?"
"I'll handle her."
Yegor drinks his coffee and finishes his breakfast, then leaves with the folder under his arm.
And I sit there for a few more minutes thinking about Mila off in my staff quarters somewhere with the women I employ.
I wonder what she's told them about me, or what they've shared about me to her.
I've never made any attempt to mask what I am and what I do.
Sorin and Rebecca know almost everything about my business because I hold meetings while they serve. And they're wise beyond their years and keep my secrets, likely because they’ve also seen when I've dealt out punishment to those deserving.
I drain my coffee and head to my office, where Radimir's standing outside the door, and he straightens when he sees me coming. I nod at him and walk past as I say, "Bring me the Radin girl."
"Yes, sir," he snaps back, and off he goes to do my bidding while I park at my desk and begin pulling up my computer.
When Mila walks in she's wearing the same black dress and white apron that all the staff wear and her hair is pulled back from her face.
She doesn't look like Anton Radin's daughter anymore.
She looks like someone who works in my house.
I have to wonder which of them loaned her the dress, because it isn't the same one she wore last night, but it fits her well.
I study her for a moment as she stands with her head erect and her posture straight. "Come in," I say. "Close the door."
She steps inside, and Radimir pulls the door shut behind her.
But Mila doesn't approach my desk. She stands in the center of the room staring at me blankly.
There's no hint of the same fear she had last night, nor of the indignation she showed when I burned that precious letter of hers.
She's lucky I didn't just kill her anyway.
There's not one man alive who could attest to the validity of that letter.
I could well have pretended I had no clue what it meant, but my own conscience could not help but bear witness.
And living with an unclean conscience is worse than being imprisoned. I've done both. I'd rather live by my morals now.
"Did the staff treat you well last night?
" I ask, turning back to my reports to feign disinterest, but I'm highly curious.
Mila is an heiress. It's likely she's never had to work a day in her life, nor sleep in such meager conditions.
What's good for my staff may not be what she's accustomed to, and I'd like to hear what she thinks.
"They were kind."
"Good. That's what I pay them for."
Mila remains silent, staring straight ahead and not looking at me. I steal a glance and realize it when she doesn't try to meet my gaze. Either something is broken in her or she's been conditioned this way, which seems odd. I wonder what sort of family she's come from.
"How are you finding your accommodations?"
"I'd like to go home," she says plainly. "Today."
I almost laugh, but I manage to clear my throat and catch it as a smile without letting the sound escape. "This is your home now, Ms. Radin. You aren't going back to that place."
"No," she says firmly and turns to meet my gaze finally. "This is where you're keeping me. This is not my home and it will never be. Now, I'd like to go to my home where my belongings are." Her eyes narrow on me, but she doesn't use an angry tone.
"You stole from me."
"I'm aware. I don't need reminded." Mila sighs and turns back to stare off into the distance while I ponder what I might do with her.
"Then you understand that you're not going anywhere."
She takes a breath and lets it out slowly. "I may owe you a debt, but I don't belong to you. Please don't treat me like an object. If I'm here, I will require my belongings to be brought to me. Specifically, my box of mementos."
I lean back in my chair and study her intently.
She's not being rude or raising her voice, but she's also not backing down.
Most people who stand where she's standing right now are either trying to placate me or they're shaking, terrified.
She's doing neither. Mila Radin is an enigma, a well-trained solider, yet still soft and pliable.
I can't wrap my mind around how she can know who I am and yet not cower in front of me.
Has she no fear at all?
"What exactly do you want?" I ask.
"My things from the estate. Clothes, personal items. And like I said, the box of mementos I keep under the foot of my bed intact. If you send someone, have them retrieve it. Don't let my stepmother do it. She'll go through my things."
Feisty… And challenging. It'd be such a shame to break something so exquisite as her, but it may become necessary if she can't learn how to interact with me properly.
And to think I almost slit her throat. Anyone who has this much backbone deserves a chance to prove themself in this world.
It really is curious why Anton never elevated her within his ranks.
Yes, a woman—but a worthy adversary, nonetheless.
"Anything else?"
"What I have is fine. Thank you," Mila says robotically, and her hands slide behind her back the way Sorin and Rebecca stand when they're awaiting orders. "May I go now?"
"I'll have Radimir bring your things from the estate," I tell her. "You'll stay in the staff quarters with the others. If you cause problems or try to leave, the terms change. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," she says tartly.
"Then you're dismissed."
Mila turns and walks away quietly while I watch every swish of her skirt, the sway of her ponytail, and the way her right hand clasps around the wrist of her left arm.
Someone somewhere took great pains to form her into something she's not, and I'm almost looking forward to finding out who and why.
And then unleashing that beast on this world to see what sort of fury her level of emotional control and skill can be used for.
But first I need to get to the bottom of this mystery.
The best I can tell, Vera Koval sent Mila to me with one thing in mind—her death. I think she knew my reputation for recompensing those who have the guts to steal from me with death, and I think Vera sent Mila to me on purpose, hoping Mila would be obvious enough to be caught and punished.
It makes sense. The woman wants to remove the heir of her dead husband, and in doing so, take the child's inheritance. That's the first lead I'm going to chase down. I'll have Timur look up the conditions of Anton Radin's will and tell me what's happening. It may give me the answers I hope for.
If not, I'll keep digging.
Something tells me there's a good story here, and I'm looking forward to unearthing it.