Chapter 6 Roman
ROMAN
“Be careful. Don’t scuff the walls.”
I watch from the far side of the room as the movers bring the couch in.
I’ve always thought that Omar’s office was lacking the kind of respect and gravitas that it should have with his being owner.
While they work, I notice a thin film on the two-way mirror window overlooking the club below.
It makes everything look hazy. I’ll have to have that replaced as well.
I got here early, much earlier than anyone else in the hopes of getting this all done before anyone showed up.
This first week, I’ve kept up my part of the bargain, staying out of the way of the basic business practices while Ember ran it the way she has been the last six months.
She’s been asking me things about the back end as well, and when I’m here, I show her the dry bones of it all.
The timing of property taxes and such. I’m tempted to show her other things.
Like, how to keep the cops off your back and how to funnel money back into the coffers of my Bratva.
She’s not ready for that yet. Hopefully, we’ll get there soon.
My guys have been frequent customers, or at least, that’s what Ares tells me. I’ve asked them to watch their behavior. This is a delicate situation. I don’t need them wrecking it.
The movers get the couch all the way through the door and I direct them to set it down in front of the window where the old couch and coffee table were.
I’m changing this entire setup. The old couch had fabric with little spots and burn marks in it.
It looked like something that Omar might’ve picked up from someone’s curb.
This one is made of soft leather. The coffee table I purchased is lacquered glass with a marble base to hold it up.
It’s elegant. Pristine. The kind of thing that you would come to expect in an owner’s office.
The movers get the couch situated, then leave to get the coffee table. My phone buzzes as they leave. It’s Sasha.
“Hey, Dad,” she says, “I was wondering if it would be okay if I spent the night at Laura’s house. We’ve got a big exam tomorrow and I want to get some study time in.”
I frown slightly. “You can’t get that time in during the day? Or at the library?”
“Laura’s got cheer practice all week. You know, she could really use it more than me. She’s failing Algebra. Her parents are going to kill her if she doesn’t get her grades up.”
I don’t know why, but it sounds a little fishy. Maybe it’s because I’ve only met Laura’s parents once. They did seem pretty nice, though.
“All right—” I start.
“What the hell is going on? Where are you going with that?”
The voice is coming from down the stairs and I can already tell who’s speaking. Dammit, I wasn’t expecting her to come in this morning. “Listen, honey, I’ve got to go—”
“So, is that a yes?” Sasha asks.
I hear footsteps stomping up toward the door. Here we go. “Yes, it is. Make sure you text me when you’re at her house, though. All right?”
“Yes, sir. Love you.”
Ember appears in the doorway, her pretty face twisted into an angry scowl.
“Love you, too,” I tell Sasha in Russian and hang the phone up. “Ms. Lorenzo—”
“What the hell are you doing in here? Why are there movers taking the furniture?”
“I thought this space could use some renovation,” I tell her. She stares incredulously at me.
“So, you just decided to do it? Without talking to me about it first?”
I clench my jaw to stifle a reprimand. She’s got some mouth on her. “I don’t need your permission.”
She huffs. “You know what I mean. We had a deal here. I stay on, and you keep out of club business.”
“Show me in this room where there’s club business,” I say to her, closing the gap between us. “Was it whatever’s left of this coffee table? Or maybe in that couch that smells of stale beer and pussy? This room is a fucking hole.”
“So what?” she says, taking a half-step back. “Why in the world would you even care?”
She’s trying to say strong, but her eyes are darting away quickly. I step even closer to her. “Because this is my office. And I am in charge. Do you understand?”
Her eyes dart around my face, discerning the signs of danger. “You said—”
“Down there, you might be queen of the house. But here? I’m king. It would do you some good to remember that.”
She swallows hard, summoning her courage. “I don’t know who you think you are,” she says, the shakiness in her voice betraying her, “but you are not my king.”
“Not yet,” I respond with a smirk.
She turns and storms off. As I watch her go, I notice my heart’s racing and, God help me, I’m rock hard. That old part of me that loves the chase and the challenge has ignited somewhere deep inside me.
You are not my king.
How I long to make her a liar.
I turn away from the doorway, stepping out of the cloud of her perfume.
It’s been years since a woman has come along who’s ignited something inside me.
As I wander to the window, I catch sight of her walking past the movers as they bring in the marble base for the coffee table.
One of these days, she’s going to be mine.
By the time the club is opened, the office renovations are finished for the most part.
I had a paint crew come in and redo the walls and a cleaner to come in and take care of the multiple stains on the carpet.
When the office was finished, it barely looked the same.
With the new couch and table set up and the new desk with an updated computer, I’ve managed to restore some dignity to this place.
I hadn’t been planning on staying here for the evening, but with Sasha spending the night at a friend’s house, I find myself faced with the option of being in that big house alone or being here. It’s not exactly the best place to be in the world, but I’m tired of drinking alone at home.
Plus, the drinks are better here. I don’t know where Ember found that bartender, but I can confidently say that I’ve never had a smoother whiskey sour. I’ll have to see if he teaches classes.
I’m standing and watching the club come to life from the window. It’s a good night. Almost every table is filled. The dancers are all on their game of entrancing the customers…
And there’s no Ember in sight. At least not at the moment. I imagine she’s in her office downstairs. As stubborn as she comes off, she doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who would take a night off work because her boss pissed her off.
I notice a little commotion at the door, then several men walk in together. The one in front has my blue eyes and his long hair back in a ponytail.
Ares. Guess he and his men decided to see what all the commotion was about. He looks up at the mirrored glass, then says something to the brigadier closest to him and starts walking toward the back.
He knows I’m here. Ares makes it his business to know where I am at all times. He usually calls to see where I am, but not this time. I imagine he just tracked my phone.
Or he made an educated guess. There aren’t too many places I’d be tonight if I’m not at home.
A few moments later, there’s a knock on the door. “Come in.”
Ares walks in and greets me with a hug. “Good evening, Brother,” he says. “Lording over your kingdom tonight?” He motions to the window overlooking the club.
“Something like that. Have a seat. I can have the bartender send us some drinks.”
“Thanks, but no. I’m kind of here on business.”
We both sit on the couch, but Ares is sitting on the edge as if he means to get right back up again.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s a rumor going around about a certain individual who’s looking to have a word with you.”
I frown, the code he’s using translating perfectly. Somebody wants to cause a problem with me. “Anybody I know?”
“Oh, yes. Sergei Durov.” I must have a confused look on my face because he adds, “You know him.”
I have to pause. Apprehension creeps in. “I know the last name.”
“Yeah. Apparently, he’s been claiming to be Pyotr’s son.”
I shake my head. “Pyotr no longer has any sons. We made sure of that, Ares.”
He shrugs. “I guess we missed one.”
An old, ancestral rage ignites in my chest. This is old business. Business that should be long over and done with. “But this is just a rumor. You don’t know for sure if this Sergei person is really Pyotr’s son or if he even exists.”
“I wouldn’t bring this to you if I thought it was just a rumor, Roman.”
It’s a valid point. Ares has been my sovietnik long enough to know better than to mention it unless there is some truth to it. And a surviving son of Pyotr Durov is definitely a problem I need to be aware of.
“What do you want to do about this?” he asks me.
“Keep your ear to the ground for now,” I tell him. “If you can, find out more about him. See if you can uncover his movements.”
“You don’t want to tighten security?”
“No, not yet. What happened was years ago, and we don’t know exactly what this person knows about us. He could be just sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”
“That’s also a problem.”
“Yes, but not one what necessarily requires force… yet. Just keep your eyes open.”
“Yes, sir.” He stands and says, “I’d better get back down there. I leave your men for too long, they might cause—”
There’s a soft knock on my door. “Yes?” I call out.
The door opens slowly. One of the waitresses peeks her head in. “One of the customers asked for you… Mr. Orlov?”
My brother and I exchange a glance. Not sure which one of us she means, but it doesn’t matter. If there’s somebody causing trouble, it’s both our business.
I thank her, then Ares and I leave my office and make our way down to the club. Immediately, I spot the issue. Boeviks of mine are gathered around two or three of the dancers. Everyone’s on their feet and even over the music, I can hear raised voices…
And I catch sight of blonde hair between the shoulders of two of my men. Shit.
I rush over. As soon as one of them sees me, they nudge the closest guy to them and the arguing stops. They step to the side and there’s Ember standing next to three of the dancers. She staring up at the one closest to her, her eyes wide with anger.
“What’s going on over here?” I ask. “Is there a problem?”
“You'd better believe there’s a problem,” Ember says. “I need you to tell your little friends that this isn’t a charity. They want lap dances, they need to pay for them.”
“Hey, watch that little friend shit, bitch,” one of them says. I backhand slap him on his shoulder and he flinches.
“You watch your fucking mouth,” I growl at him. He shrinks from me and puts his hands up in surrender.
“Sorry, Boss.”
I look at my three Boeviks, all top earners under one of my brigadiers and all known for causing trouble when they get together. I really don’t need this tonight.
“So, what’s the deal? You don’t think you need to pay your way around here because you work for me?” I ask them. The one I slapped, Mikhail, looks tentatively over at Ares.
“We thought it was cool since—”
“Don’t look at him. I’m the one talking.” I step directly in his line of sight. “Answer my fucking question.” I continue in Fenya. “You little shits think I won’t take your heads for messing with one of my businesses?”
“Hey, hey,” one of the girls—the little dark-haired one that I’ve seen around Ember—says. In Russian, she says, “It’s not a big deal. We can dance for your guys for free.”
“I don’t think so,” I tell her in English. I turn to Ember. “They’ll pay whatever’s owed.”
“Come on, Boss,” another of them, Stephan, says. “We don’t even get a discount?”
“You might’ve gotten one before you decided to act like assholes,” I respond. “Thanks to your bullshit tonight, you’ll pay full price for your lap dances and everything else here until I decide you’ve earned the right to have a discount. Are we clear?”
All three nod.
“Good. Carry on.” I turn to leave, and I hear high heels clicking behind me.
“Hold on a second.” Ember rushes around me and blocks my path. “You can’t do that.”
I stare at her in confusion. “What are you talking about? You had a problem, I solved it.”
“It wasn’t your problem to solve,” she says. “This isn’t how I run things, Mr. Orlov. You said you’d stay out of the way of how I run this place.”
She is unbelievable. This tiny little thing really thinks she had any real sway over my men? “You were out of your depth, trust me.”
“Why? Because I’m just some frail little girl and they’re big, bad Bratva? I’m not as fragile as you think. And besides, that problem was mine to deal with. Not yours.”
“Not tonight, it wasn’t.” We stare at each other under the colored lights and thumping club music for a few seconds.
“Just stay the hell out of my way, all right? I’ve got this.”
And again she storms off. I swear, this woman is going to drive me insane.