Chapter Four
Anya
T he glass doors slide open with a soft hiss as I step into Riccardo Angelo’s office building. My heels click against the marble floors, the sound echoing in my ears despite the noise made by the other people walking around. The guards stationed at the front barely glance at me, but I know they’ve already flagged my arrival. One of them spoke into his headset, and even if that wasn’t him notifying his boss, the security cameras all around the building’s lobby undoubtedly have facial recognition. I don’t doubt for a second that Toni Giordano, Angelo’s right-hand man, is already on his way. It doesn’t matter. I didn’t come here to sneak around.
Nor will I let any of this intimidate me. Riccardo Angelo might operate at a different level than my family, but that’s exactly why I am here, and I know my pitch by heart.
As the elevator climbs, the knot of tension in my stomach tightens, but I push it down. I’ve walked into much more dangerous places than this. Despite that, the stakes today are high, so I don’t quite manage not to wipe my sweaty hands on my slacks. If he sees it on his surveillance feed... well, fuck it.
The doors slide open, and I step out, already sensing the shift in the atmosphere. Everything in this building screams wealth. The plush leather, polished wood, people in fancy suits. It’s the subtle scents and sights of money and power my thesis supervisor in business school always talked about. I can smell it, taste it in the air, mixed with the ever-present undercurrent of espresso.
Walking toward the impressive marble front desk, Angelo’s personal administrator looks up at me with a flicker of surprise.
“Excuse me, Ms.” she begins, but I stride past her before she can finish the sentence.
The woman doesn’t protest, though I see her typing something quickly as I pass.
Riccardo Angelo stands behind his desk, glaring at me, though there is no surprise in his expression. Toni Giordano is standing off to the side, watching me with a similarly menacing expression. I recognize him from the research I did on Riccardo, but it looks like he isn’t in any doubt over who I am. Nor do they look surprised that I am here, which is exactly what I expected.
No matter how much they glare now, I doubt I would have made it into this room if they hadn’t permitted it by calling off their guard dogs. Which gives me hope. Riccardo must be intrigued by why I am here, and I intend to use that to my advantage.
The door clicks softly behind me, and Riccardo’s eyes narrow on me. His office is just as I expected—rich, masculine, carefully curated to intimidate and impress. Not that I give a shit.
“Anya Tsepov,” he says, the slightest smirk playing at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remain sharp. “I don’t recall having you on my schedule today.”
I don’t sit. Instead, I remain standing, meeting his gaze with what I hope displays steady confidence. “This isn’t exactly a social call.”
“No?” he asks, still watching me, but now humor is creeping into his voice. “So what brings you to my office unannounced? Not something you usually do.” He says it like we’re acquaintances who aren’t meeting in person for the very first time.
I shrug, though my heart pounds in my chest. “I’ve come to make a deal.”
Riccardo comes around his desk, and I lock my knees, refusing to back away even as he comes closer. He watches me carefully, but doesn’t close in any further. Instead, he leans back against his desk, half sitting on it, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes study me, calculating, as if weighing the odds. “Go on.”
I take a slow breath, steadying myself. “Dmitri Solntsev arrived in town the day before yesterday. His arrival comes with a potential alliance between my family and the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood, and you can’t afford that kind of disruption any more than I can.”
He doesn’t immediately react, instead watching me like I’m about to continue. It’s a smart strategy to make people keep talking when they didn’t originally intend to give up any more information, but I’m not about to fall for it. So I stare back.
His eyes are steel gray. The kind that sees through a person. And yet, beneath that cold scrutiny, there’s something else. Heat.
His presence fills the room effortlessly, the way a predator’s might. Every inch of him is carefully controlled, confident, and dangerous. But instead of feeling like I’m prey, he makes it seem like he’s looking to take me down in a very different kind of way.
And damn if that doesn’t make me press my thighs together.
I won’t lie to myself—the man is attractive. Very attractive. From the sharp line of his jaw to the strength in his broad shoulders, to the way he commands the space simply by standing there. Not because he’s waving a gun around or because he spends his evenings in the gym, turning himself into some Hulk like many of the guys that work in our clubs. No, he exudes power the way only someone who is used to getting his way does. And fuck it, but I love power. I want it for myself, and if that means my pussy gets a little tingle when I stare him down, then so be it.
His dark hair is slightly tousled, like he’s been running his hands through it, but it only adds to that effortless executive look that he sports. A man like Riccardo could have almost anyone he wanted.
But I’m not just anyone, and I won’t let myself get distracted by something as fleeting as lust. This isn’t about desire. This is about survival.
His eyes linger on me a second too long, and I force myself to stand tall, locking away the errant thoughts about how good he looks. I don’t have time to indulge in fantasies—especially not about the man I’m about to propose a marriage to. One based on necessity, not emotion. Or lust.
“And?” Riccardo prompts, one eyebrow raised.
“I’m offering you an alliance,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “A marriage of convenience. You don’t want another player entering the city, and I won’t be used to secure an alliance between my family and the Brotherhood back in Moscow.”
His eyes flash with surprise, but he recovers quickly, his expression hardening into that cool, unreadable mask. “Marriage?”
“Yes.” I resist the urge to ball my hands into fists. “Marriage. It will stop or at least severely damage the deal my father is making with Dmitri Solntsev and you won’t need to deal with them encroaching on your business, because that is exactly what they intend to do. They already have an air shipment scheduled.”
For a long moment, Riccardo says nothing. The silence feels like a weight trying to suffocate me. If he says no, I’ve shown my hand too soon. But if he says yes...
“Assuming I’d even consider marrying you just for the chance to mess with your father and Solntsev, which is a stretch since I’m disinclined to agree that I need your help with that, what do you get out of this?” he finally asks, his voice low.
“My freedom,” I say, my words edged with steel.
Riccardo’s lips curl into a slow, deliberate smile, but his eyes remain cold. “What makes you think you’d be free as my wife?”
His question hangs in the air, and fuck me, but it makes a prickle run down my spine. I manage not to flinch, though. Instead, I step forward, closing the distance just enough to assert myself. “Because you will never have a say over me. This isn’t about anything other than a business arrangement. And I’d be your partner, not someone you fuck around with.”
His eyes darken, sharp with curiosity, but also with something else—a flicker of something primal. As he watches me, the tension between us tightens like a wire. A goddamned electric wire that sends my skin into a tingling frenzy.
He shifts slightly, still half-perched on the edge of the desk. The subtle movement draws my attention, but I square my shoulders and stay focused.
“Go on,” he says, his voice a soft challenge. “Convince me.”
Off to the side, Toni coughs. It breaks some of the tension as I glance in his direction, catching the way Riccardo’s man shifts awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable with the charged atmosphere in the room.
When I don’t avert my eyes, Toni stammers an apology, his eyes wide, and I’m pretty sure this is the first time in his life he’s ever stammered. The tough, stone-faced man has definitely not expected my proposal and I like that I took him by surprise. It almost makes my lips twitch into a smile—almost.
When I turn back to Riccardo, it’s easier to focus on the conversation rather than on the man himself. The spell of his closeness, of that steely gaze boring into me, loosens enough for me to regain my footing.
“You need me,” I say, my voice sharper now. “You know the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood’s methods. They don’t just want a piece of the pie—they want control. A deal with my father gets them that, and I know that’s the last thing you want. You might have Toronto locked down for now, but you depend on your alliance with Gianna Bruno for that, and I bet that’s not what you want.”
Riccardo’s gaze sharpens. He crosses his arms over his chest, still leaning casually against his desk, but I don’t miss the slight tension in his shoulders. He’s listening. Really listening now, because I am right.
I step forward, but stop short of closing the space between us, keeping my distance. “Tomorrow night there’s a shipment arriving—a group of women. It’s more than just their way to buy into the alliance with my father. It’s about them establishing territory.” My voice is calm, almost clinical, as I deliver the information. There is no fucking way I’ll tell him that the shipment is a dowry, as if we live in the seventeenth century. Not just a way for Dmitri to buy his way into Toronto, but a payment for me . Just another woman for sale. “This is Dmitri’s opening move, and you strike me like a man who prefers to own the game board.”
Riccardo’s expression doesn’t change, but I see the flicker in his eyes. He knows the implications of what I’m saying. The Angelo syndicate may not be into human trafficking, but they sure as hell move product. Drugs rather than women, but the methods of moving the product aren’t all that different and thus far, it’s been Riccardo’s monopoly.
If Dmitri’s shipment goes through, it won’t just be a single transaction. It will be the start of something far more. And once the Brotherhood digs its claws into the trade, they’ll have the leverage they need to push deeper into Riccardo’s territory and his hold on the shipping routes in and out of the city.
Riccardo stays silent again, watching me. I stare back into those gray eyes. Let him process. Let him see the benefit. Never rush a deal only to close if rushing will hurt your negotiating position. That’s what my business mentor in grad school used to say. I’ve already laid out the pieces, and if Riccardo Angelo is as sharp as everyone says he is, he’ll recognize that this is a win-win for him.
Finally, he straightens, pushing off the desk and closing a little more distance between us. We’re well past having a polite amount of space separating us. I can feel his breath against my skin. It should disgust me. It’s hot and humid and intense. Instead, it makes me wonder what he would do if I leaned against him, pushing him back against his desk, pressing my mouth onto his and licking his lips to get more of just a hint of his breath. If I inhaled it and sucked it into me, the way I might suck on his tongue if I kissed him.
“And you,” he says slowly, his voice lower than before. He’s definitely just as affected as I am. “What do you really get out of this?”
I tilt my head slightly, refusing to be intimidated by the intensity of his gaze. “I’ve already told you.” My tone is calm but firm. “My freedom. I’m done being a pawn. Marrying you takes me out of the equation with the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood and away from Dmitri.” I say that last part as much to establish the deal as to remind myself of that.
Riccardo is off limits. He’s not more than a useful tool to get me away from Dmitri. Anything else would be messy.
Riccardo studies me for a moment, and I can almost see the wheels turning in his head. Then his lips curl into a faint smile, but there’s no warmth in it. “Strategic,” he says, like he’s tasting the word. “And you think I’d make a good partner in this... strategy?”
I don’t flinch. “This deal works for both of us. We can get a divorce in a year or so and we can be done with it. It’s temporary and useful. There is no downside to it.”
If this doesn’t work, I have one more card to play, but it’s not nearly as effective as this move. Someone owes me a favor, but I doubt I can push that favor enough to have Dmitri removed from the playing field, which is about the only other way I can get safely out of this mess.
Riccardo pushes off the desk to stand. It forces me a step back. He’s testing my boundaries to see how far I’ll retreat. I don’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, I turn around and walk toward the door. When I look back, his eyes gleam with amusement, but there’s something else there too—curiosity, interest.
He’s intrigued.
“You’re right about one thing,” he says, his demeanor shifting. “I don’t want Dmitri Solntsev in this city. But I don’t trust you and there are very few women I allow in my life. Women who strive to make my life easier. More pleasurable. And each of them knows I won’t marry them. You were never on that list.”
My heart pounds, but I force a cool smile to my lips. I don’t have time, but I need to let him think I could walk away from this. “Think about it then. I’m not offering you submission or a cushy trophy wife like those other women on your list might. I’m offering you a partner. Someone who wants to win and, right now, our objective is the same. When that stops being the case, we divorce and go our own ways. Then you can go back to dealing with less interesting women.”
His eyes narrow slightly, and I can see that I’ve struck a chord. The challenge in my words hangs between us. For the first time, I see the flicker of interest in his gaze—not just strategic or sexual, but... something else.
Finally, Riccardo gives a slow nod, his lips curling into a smile that’s far too predatory for comfort. “Alright, Anya. It’s a bold move, but you’ve got my attention.”
My name on his lips sounds like a tease, the way he says it with amusement tinging his tone.
I shrug. “I don’t have time for anything less. I’ll leave my card with your secretary.”
Then I walk out of his office, hoping I didn’t just poke a hornet’s nest while running from a hive of bees.