Chapter Twenty-Three Alina’s POV
Chapter Twenty-Three
Alina’s POV
For the first time, I woke up in Konstantin’s bed. It felt good. No, it felt wonderful. I sat up slowly, pulling the covers along. I woke up like a wife who woke up in her husband’s bed.
But in the same time, I reminded myself that I wasn’t just a wife. I was a wife under suspicion.
Okay, enough of that.
His room was much larger than my large room.
It was the master bedroom in a manor, after all.
But it was also surprisingly neat. The few containers and tubes on the table to the left were neatly organized.
I got off the bed, hugging myself as a cool breeze hit my skin.
I walked into the doorless closet to the far right and, after browsing through jacket after jacket, I took out a navy blue T-shirt and wore it.
As expected, it fell close to my knees. I turned around to leave, but changed my mind.
The black leather jacket beside the collarless brown one seemed to be calling my name. So I took it.
I made the bed and left the room.
Just as I opened my door, I heard, “Where are you running to?”
Konstantin.
Tossing the jacket onto the bed, I turned around to find him leaning against his office door.
“I wasn’t running,” I countered.
He left the door and came towards me, his eyes on my borrowed outfit.
“What were you doing, then?” he questioned, his hands on my waist.
“Going to my room,” I answered, bringing my hands to the hair that had escaped to his forehead and moving it to the side. “I didn’t know you were working in your office here. I assumed you had left home.”
“I have so much to sort out,” he answered, claiming my lips in a quick kiss. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” I replied, rising on my tiptoes to kiss him again.
“I can see how much you’re busy with. Stress is written all over your face,” I revealed.
“Maybe your presence will make things easier,” he said in a low tone.
“What do I know about records and files?” I uttered, chuckling.
“You don’t have to do anything. Let’s go.”
He took my hand, and we went into his office. I led the way to his desk.
“All this is about Vitya?” I inquired, taking in the several papers scattered across it.
“He really has done a lot,” I commented.
He nodded, pushing the papers around me back and lifting me onto the desk.
“There are joint businesses that we run, and a number of them are covert, the sole reason being their large size. The authorities can’t possibly endorse them under any circumstances, regardless of the front. A few Bratva soldiers know about some of them.”
“And Vitya was one of them?” I chipped in as he stood between my legs, his hands on my naked lap.
He nodded. “Not just that. He got access to the database where information about every one of them is stored. That information, aside from the others he laid his hands on, is valuable. Valuable enough to give any other mafia or organization an edge over us. If the Feds get involved, we can expect a worse outcome.”
“I can’t believe I’m roped into the middle of something this complicated.”
“Someone from his network tried to slip you a phone. We caught him when he tried to bribe a guard to get it to you. The dead courier whose picture I asked you about the other day,” he divulged.
“To me? For what?”
“Guess we’ll never know.”
I sighed heavily.
“Why not let’s concentrate on de-stressing instead of all the headache, hmm?” he asked, his eyes on mine.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Making you come right here on this table,” he revealed casually, his fingers snaking under the shirt.
And he did just that.
**********
When I emerged from my bedroom, I found Mila sitting at the dining table.
“Good morning, Mila,” I greeted.
“Oh, just the person I was hoping to see,” she answered as I joined her at the table. “Good morning, Mrs. Lobanov.”
“Stop it,” I uttered, chuckling. “Hope you slept well?”
I took the seat next to hers, which was the seat Konstantin called my seat.
“I did, and you?”
“I did, too,” I answered. “You wanted to see me for something?”
“Yes,” she replied, nodding.
I was about to ask what it was when Greta came out of the kitchen.
“Ah, good morning, milady,” she greeted, placing a cup of coffee in front of Mila.
“Good morning, Greta,” I answered her.
She served both of us breakfast and retreated into the kitchen.
“So, what is it?” I questioned, curious.
“It’s about the Morozov case. I know Mr. Konstantin is my direct employer and all,” she mentioned, half-rolling her eyes playfully. And then all the humor was wiped off her face as she said, “But I think I should let you know about this first.”
“Okay…” I prompted, my hand leaving my fork.
“The latest digital fingerprints on the leaked files point to a security contractor the Lobanov Bratva hired months ago,” she divulged.
“What? A security contractor?”
She nodded. “Someone who has been inside the manor’s systems since you and Mr. Konstantin arrived from Russia.”
Then it dawned on me.
“The courier who reportedly tried to slip me a phone. That was a diversion?”
“Yes,” she replied. “It was clearly to keep suspicion on you.”
“And it worked,” I muttered, my eyes on the table.
Then I shot to my feet. “I’ll be back,” I told her.
I raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. I flung the door to Konstantin’s office open. He wasn’t there. I went to his bedroom and went inside.
“Konstantin!” I called.
“Alina. What’s going on?”
I found him just outside the closet, fixing the buttons of his leather jacket.
“Oh, you’re going somewhere?”
“Yes. Meeting with Viktor,” he answered before asking, “Why are you panting?”
“I rushed up here. I need to share something with you.”
“Okay.”
“Digital fingerprints tie a security contractor to the leak,” I disclosed. “Mila said it’s someone with access to the manor and has been inside the system since I got here. The courier that tried to slip me a phone was a diversion.”
He studied me silently before saying, “If you’re lying to me again, I’ll know.”
What?
I shook my head, an annoyed frown on my face as I told him in a low tone, “I never lied to you.”
I turned around and stomped towards the door.
“Alina,” he called, but I kept going.
He caught up with me and grabbed my arm, stopping me.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Just yesterday you talked about trusting me, and now you call me a liar?” I questioned, my voice shaky as a single tear escaped my right eye.
He came to stand in front of me, his thumb wiping the tear away. “I believe you. I do.”
I didn’t say anything, and he brought his arms around me. “Come with me to the meeting. It’s about this case.”
“What? A meeting with your brothers? And the Pakhan?” I asked, moving out of his embrace.
“Yes. You should share the new finding with them,” he affirmed.
I looked down at my outfit. “I’ll just grab a jacket, then.”
“Okay.”
“I should ask Mila for copies of the records, too.”
“That’s right,” he answered. “I’ll ask her to put them together as you dress. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs.”
“Okay,” I uttered, heading towards my bedroom as he left the hallway.
I spent just one minute in the room, adding a jacket to my jeans and T-shirt outfit before stepping out. Mila was waiting for me in the sitting room with a file.
“Thank you,” I told her. “Really.”
“Come on, girl,” she remarked, looking towards the door. “Don’t keep Mr. Konstantin waiting.”
“Bye,” I whispered as I left.
I took a deep breath as I got to the balcony. It seemed like ages since the last time I was here.
“Is that my jacket?” Konstantin asked as he approached the balcony, holding a hand out for me.
“It is. I took it from your closet yesterday,” I confessed.
“It looks good on you,” he said, opening the back door of a waiting SUV for me.
I got in silently, not knowing what to do with a compliment from a man who just called me a liar.
The ride was silent, for the most part. I looked out the window and didn’t look towards him, even when he talked to me.
I was sitting beside him like a consort in the wide office a few minutes later.
Viktor and Mikhail came in together, then Roman arrived about two minutes later.
The surprise on their faces was evident; Mikhail even joked about it, but they didn’t say anything that made me feel wrong for being there.
Neither did I feel awkward or uncomfortable as I answered Viktor’s questions and presented the papers on the table.
The brothers arrived at the same conclusion: There was a mole. Someone within the Bratva was trying to implicate me and escape being found out.
“Konstantin,” Viktor called. “Handle the mole quietly. No police involvement.”
“Understood, brother,” he answered.
As the meeting ended and I was about to retrieve the papers, I caught sight of a name in Viktor’s briefing notes.
Mila Petrov.