Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
Nicholas
By the time I reach Anton's office, he and Freddie are already getting comfortable.
The massive space which used to belong to Dimitri, and still does in most everyone's mind, is decorated with oversized dark oak furniture, maroon leather chairs and bookshelves lining the walls.
A desk sits along the back wall with two chairs in front of it.
There's a bar on the left of the room and a lounge on the right.
It screams old money.
It screams Dimitri. Anton hasn't changed a thing about it since he died, and I think he probably should've. So he wasn't making himself feel like an intruder just by sitting in his big brother's chair.
I close the double doors behind me.
Anton is already staring out the big window that overlooks the back of the estate, worrying his lip as he's often known to do these days.
My frown from my conversation with Sage is still firmly on my face when I chance a look over to Freddie, who just smirks at me. Smirks at me like he knows secrets.
I narrow my eyes, frowning harder. I like Freddie. No, I love Freddie. For all intents and purposes, in this life, he is my brother. But if he knows what he thinks he does, then he'd better shut the fuck up and keep it to himself.
"She sulking?" Anton says, drawing my attention back to him.
"Isn't she always?" I scrub at my jaw. Heading straight for the bar, I pour a shot that I sink back in one go. The alcohol burns its way down my throat and I relish the warmth it leaves behind.
"Harsh," Freddie says.
I look over my shoulder to see him wince. My shoulders drop before I sink back another shot. "I know."
The thing is, I can't help it. She works me up something shocking. Like she's slithered in under my skin and I can't fucking get her out. Being here around her all the time... Frankly, it's a fucking miracle that I don't spontaneously combust.
Freddie and the others don't see this side of her.
They knew her when she was little. Watched her grow.
But I came into this house when she was seventeen and all breasts and long dark hair and sultry green eyes.
And damn if I didn't want to tear my brain out for the thoughts I had before she turned eighteen.
The legal age of consent here is seventeen. Yeah... knowing that was the only way to make myself feel less disgusting. Spoiler: it didn't work.
But now, she's twenty-two. Her tits have gotten perkier, heavier. Legs longer and more tan. Green eyes less innocent and more cutting. Lips fuller. Mouth... smarter. Hands wandering to places they shouldn't be. I can barely even look at her after I've...
Christ.
I've defiled the DeMarco daughter more ways than one in more places than one, and I'm sure if Dimitri had ever known he would've cut my cock off first and my head second.
That deserves another shot.
The others smile at her the way a father smiles at a toddler. Like she's giggling. But to me, her laugh isn't a giggle. It's slow torture. Sultry and smooth. Like a siren song.
Freddie clears his throat in warning before Anton can notice I'm in the clouds and my dick is half-hard. I manage to find my head, hint: it was in my ass. I promptly pull it out of there and put on my best game face.
"This isn't going well, is it?" Anton says, still worrying his lip.
"No," I say.
"Fuck," Anton says. He finally turns away from the window and slumps into the chair next to Freddie. "The Rushkoffs have gone eerily silent. I don't like it."
"What happened to the peace deal they had with Dimitri?" Freddie finally stops looking casual and starts paying attention.
"I thought they were open to re-negotiating a peace deal?" I ask.
"Yes. With Dimitri." Anton shakes his head. "Their lack of response is concerning."
The room goes silent as Anton leans forward, resting his forearms against his thighs and hanging his head between them.
"You think they've figured out our position?" I ask in a grave voice.
Anton looks up at me and quirks a brow. It's answer enough, but he follows up anyway. "We're weak right now. I'm pretty sure that's obvious. Our boundaries are being pushed."
"You think it's the Rushkoffs that're pushing them?" Freddie's brows rise to his head.
"Yes," Anton nods. "Maybe... I don't know." Anton jumps upright, beginning to pace. "The treaty has always been a sore point. Only held in place by the fact they think they can't take us."
"And now they think they can?" Freddie goes back to looking casual. Of course, he'd be in for a fight. It's literally his job in this machine. To fight.
"If there was a war right now, I don't know that we'd win it," Anton admits.
Freddie bites his knuckles and then looks to me. He's frustrated. Understandably in his position.
Our little slice of crime county, Bradford, VA, has always been divided in half right down the center.
The DeMarco Family control and run the west side, with the open air and country landscape plus the western half of Bradford City.
While the Rushkoff's Russian Bratva control the east side, with its secluded forests, the lake and the east half of Bradford City.
A carefully constructed negotiation of peace to make sure that while we play nice, the Rushkoffs and the DeMarcos never have to cross paths.
The balance of power has always been in our favor. Dimitri DeMarco could've crushed the Rushkoffs with just his little toe. So what would they do if they knew that right now they could probably crush us?
"You know... there is another way," Freddie says, though to his credit he does cringe.
Anton's face turns to ice as my jaw clenches.
"Don't," is Anton's one warning.
"I'm just saying... Dimitri-"
"Would've never given them what it is they're asking for," I say through clenched teeth.
"But that document-"
"Is fucked," I say.
Freddie bats a hand at us. "It's probably why they won't return your calls."
Anton slams his fist down on the table, rattling the glassware. "I don't care what some fucking document says, Dimitri DeMarco never would've traded his daughter in marriage. Especially to a Rushkoff. Not even to avoid a fucking war."
The room falls into silence for a moment.
"Will they start one? Over this?" Freddie asks with caution.
Anton doesn't have an answer for that. I can see it in the hard set of his jaw. In the way he glares at Freddie before turning away and staring out the window.
Freddie takes the hint and stands up to leave.
Not because he's afraid, but because everyone here is aware of their triggers.
As trained killers, we have to be. Sage might think Freddie is a big sweetie, but he's actually the best hitter we've got.
The places his temper goes, the things he can do to people...
I shiver. So Freddie wisely leaves the room before either his or Anton's nature takes over.
But of course, he has to get in that one last dig, grabbing my elbow and turning me to him. "I think she at least has a right to fucking know." Freddie slams the door behind him.
I make my way back to the bar and pour a scotch on ice. One for me. Another for Anton. I can see his posture has tensed from where he's standing. Hands clasped behind his back like they might snap.
"You hear that?" I ask as I join him at the window, handing over his glass.
"Hard not to. Freddie isn't discreet." We stand in comfortable silence for a moment. "You think he's right?"
"That Sage has a right to know?" I blow out a breath.
I know the answer. Of course, she has a right to know that upon her father's death, he wanted her handed off in marriage to our enemy.
But I want to tell Anton no. That we should hide this from her. My nature, however, does take over. Because the thought of it, that Sage might marry some fuckwit Rushkoff, makes my blood boil.
Even though she's not mine. As much as I wish she was.
And I do wish.
The glass in my hand forms a crack that brings my attention back to the room where Anton is looking at me with a quietly concerned look. I put the glass down on the windowsill.
"No," I say, getting the words out as little more than a growl. "She doesn't need to know."
Anton nods, but he looks like he's having second thoughts. I'd beat them out of his head if I could. I won't sit around while someone takes her. She'd never fall in love with a fucking Rushkoff, but I sure as hell won't watch her carted off to a loveless marriage either. That's probably worse.
My heart sinks.
"She's twenty-two. She's not a kid," Anton whispers.
"I know," I say, more calmly than I feel. Believe me. She's all woman.
"What if Freddie's right? What if she should be allowed to make this decision for herself?" Anton looks at me. Before I was his second, I was also his closest confidant. He said things to me he'd never dare to voice in front of Dimitri. Even though he's the boss now, that dynamic hasn't changed.
"You know what she'd fucking pick, Anton," I say. "For the drama, martyring, freedom, I don't fucking know. But if she knew, you know what she'd say."
Anton's fists clench. "Yeah. I know."
"You want her to do that? You want to watch that happen?"
He shakes his head. "No."
"We're not even at war. Not yet, anyway." I bite my bottom lip into my mouth, drawing blood. "She doesn't need to know."
Anton blinks once before he narrows his eyes. "I disagree." My heart stops, freezes over and snaps in two. A thousand emotions run through me in the time it takes for Anton to finish his sentence. "But for now, I'll take your advice. She doesn't need to know."
I take a breath but he pins me with a hard look which lets me know, on this issue, I'm later in for a fight.
"For now," he repeats.