Chapter Three
Roman’s POV
“I don’t need to tell you to do a smooth job, do I? The tiniest charity affair is a public event these days,” I told Stepan as we descended the stairs of my jet.
“Not at all, boss,” he assured. “The cars are set. We’ll be in and out in a blink.”
I nodded, my feet landing on Russian land as he motioned for the two mafia soldiers to follow him.
“People like her don’t wait until the very end to leave. We’ll extract her and be back in less than two hours,” he said as he turned back around to face me.
“People like her,” I repeated, raising an inquisitive brow.
“You said you don’t remember her, but you’re sure you’ve met her before?”
“I can’t place her face, yeah. I just know I must have met her a few times, maybe at galas. But glam girls like that tend to look the same. Bright colors, statement jewelry, glistening makeup,” I disclosed. “How is this relevant to your extraction?”
“We might just be spinning an interesting web,” he answered, the corner of his lips lifting as they often did whenever he dropped his usually witty remarks. His face was all serious again, mirroring mine, as he said, “We’ll leave now.”
Hands in my pockets, I didn’t move from my spot as he and the other two men got into the two black cars, which had slowed to a stop at the far end of the private runway.
“Sir?”
I turned to the right to see Drew gingerly approach me. He was a tall guy in his late twenties, with blonde hair peeking from the sides of his white cap.
Formerly the stand-in pilot until Ian died the previous year, Drew had worked with me since he graduated from aviation college. However, our long-standing work relationship didn’t make him any more relaxed in my presence. Especially when he had to approach me alone,
Drew was always like this. But, since he wasn’t one of the men or soldiers who handled guns, it didn’t bother me.
“Drew.”
“Mr. Stepan mentioned to me that we’re not staying long in Russia,” he expressed, his hand moving to scratch the back of his neck. “We just ended a flight within a 10-hour range, so we might need to refuel if we’re flying back anytime soon. I thought to ask when our return flight would be.”
“Didn’t Stepan tell you that?”
“No, sir. He didn’t specify.”
I wanted to ask why he didn’t ask him then, but I thought better of it, knowing it was most likely because his jelly brain couldn’t conjure the idea of asking Stepan a question.
He was probably fidgeting and counting down to when he could leave while Stepan talked to him, just like he was doing now.
“We leave in an hour or two.”
“We'll have to refuel, sir. I’ll get them to bring the fuel here. We'll be ready to go in an hour.”
“Why didn’t you fuel the jet adequately? What if I changed my mind and decided to go to Moscow or another distant city? Would we have been stuck?” I asked, bringing my hands out of my pocket before adding, “Or did you reach the fuel maximum capacity?”
“Yes, sir,” he replied, emphasizing his response with a nod. “I always fill it to maximum capacity, regardless of destination.”
“Hm. Then, how come we never had a reason to refuel for all these years of coming to Russia? Did the jet suddenly grow a smaller fuel storage?”
It was in my pilot’s job description to handle everything concerning the jet—from fueling it to every type of maintenance.
So they had contacts of fuel suppliers in every city I ever traveled to, and I never had to interfere.
But I definitely would have known when the jet was being refueled on a journey.
“I always refueled, sir,” he claimed. “Just that it’s always after you’ve alighted and before you get back to the runway.”
“I’ve been on trips where I only spent minutes before flying back,” I pointed out, frowning slightly at the new knowledge.
“Even then, sir.” He was certainly pleased with himself to the point of sporting a small smile.
I wasn’t displeased, either.
He’s pretty efficient, after all.
I nodded.
“I’ll just call them to get the fuel over here,” he disclosed, already turning around.
The refueling didn’t take long. Stepan’s call came just as Drew and I were alone again on the isolated runway.
He had gotten to the venue, and they were lying low, waiting for her to be out in an hour or so.
I told Drew to take a cab into the city to get something to eat, but he claimed to be fine with his stash of snacks.
I couldn’t exactly insist since I wasn’t eating either. So I had painted a mental picture of the fate that awaited him if he risked piloting us while getting dizzy due to exhaustion or dehydration. In response, he had quickly listed off all the snacks and drinks he stocked up on.
I glanced at the time as Drew went back into the aircraft.
7:08 pm.
The event should be coming to a close in an hour, and it would take them thirty minutes to get back here.
Lots of time with nothing to do. Of course, there were loads of accounting statements and club business to be handled. But the Markova bombshell had sapped my desire to work on anything. I knew I couldn’t focus on anything else until I had Arkady Markova’s daughter under my thumb.
I strolled down the runway. The vast spread of nothingness forced me to relax for a second. I breathed in the cool evening air and sighed, appreciating the gentleness of the wind.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out. It was an email from Mikhail, my brother. It wasn’t lengthy, nor was it void of meaning. He had heard about Arkady Markova messing with funds. Mikhail wanted me to let him know how he could be of help, if need be.
I chuckled as I replied to him that I was on it and would let him know.
Being my immediate older brother and the one I was closest to growing up, Mikhail definitely knew what he was saying when he added the clause ‘if need be.’ Beyond the fact that all of us were trained to be self-sufficient, I wasn’t the type to accept help until there was no other possible way forward.
It made sense that I was perfectly okay with being a charmer in public and a workaholic in private. Of being sure to stay single while my older brothers were happily married.
The sound of vehicles revving surprised me. I put my phone back into my pocket and walked to the side of the jet. The two cars my men drove slowed to a halt a few feet away.
I watched as the back door of the first car opened and Stepan emerged. Then he held it open—and she stepped out.
It struck me immediately.
I know her.
I’ve seen her around Isabella and Emilia, my brothers’ wives. She’s Isabella’s childhood friend or something.
But that was not the only thing that struck me as she tilted her head to the side on seeing me.
She’s gorgeous.
Her evening dress wrapped around her gracefully, making her look like a queen.
I had seen the coverage of the event on the flight.
I wasn’t blind; I saw that she was a bold and beautiful young woman.
However, the live coverage couldn’t have captured the confidence in her step as she walked ahead of Stepan toward me.
No livestream could have shown the contained elegance I was staring at.
Cameras couldn’t have carried the ‘unstoppable’ aura she exuded. It was all her.
She approached me calmly, stopping only when she was a foot away from my face.
“I had a feeling this wasn’t orchestrated by Viktor or Mikhail. Only you could pull off something this smooth. You’re the sleek one,” she uttered.
Of course, she’s smart.
My response to her was a smirk as I motioned to Stepan.
Stepan came to her side to guide her into the airplane.
She didn’t scoff or throw more words at me in frustration like other ‘classy’ girls would have done.
She simply blinked and went up the stairs with him like she didn’t need to say anything else.
That was another surprise. She was definitely different from the regular ‘glam girls’ I usually met. I just didn’t know how much.
As we were flying over the Atlantic a few minutes later, I went through some documents on my laptop.
But I couldn’t help glancing at the woman sitting across from me.
Her wrists weren’t bound, nor were her feet.
Stepan had told one of the two men flying with us to ask her if she needed anything, and she casually waved him off like she was on a luxury trip and just didn’t require anything more.
She was composed, too composed. I had just kidnapped her and was flying her miles away, but here she was, behaving like it was the most normal day of her life. Her makeup remained flawless, and her legs were perfectly crossed as if she were on a fun date.
Every time I glanced at her, she was looking out the window, and that gave me the chance to really take her in.
But then her eyes met mine. It was too late to look away. So I didn’t. And she didn’t, either.
“Is this the part where you kill me?” she inquired, her eyes like daggers even though her voice was calm.
I smirked.
“Not yet,” I answered.
If I had expected my words to scare or frighten her, I would have been surprised again. She just gazed at me steadily like she was silently asking me to go on.
“I don’t need to explain to you that the Lobanov Bratva is behind our charity organizations and legitimate businesses,” I started.
“Arkady, your father, has been siphoning money from these foundations. At first, they were just irregularities that didn’t necessarily point to funny business.
But we discovered it was none other than Arkady.
He recently siphoned a large amount, so you see, I decided to have a sit-down with him to discuss repayment terms.”
“And you hear he’s out of town,” she chipped in. Her expression wasn’t that of someone who had just realized what a mess they were in, but that of someone who was coming to understand something.
“Yes,” I affirmed. “So you, his daughter, are collateral.”
“I’m not my father’s accountant,” she answered, rolling her eyes. “This isn’t going to go the way you’re thinking, I can assure you. You’ll regret this stupidity.”
The certainty in her threat made me laugh.
“What do you mean by ‘regret it?’ You think your father will come save you?” I questioned. “I think not. You seem to have too much faith in the old man.”
I didn’t expect her to burst into sad tears—she had proven not to be that kind of girl, all right. But her reaction wasn’t what I would have anticipated, either. She laughed back.
“I don’t need my father to save me,” she declared. “You’ll know the mistake you’ve made the second this plane lands.”
As she looked out the window, I went back to the work I was doing on my laptop.
**********
“Fuck!” I muttered as I got out of the jet ahead of Liza.
I stared at the headline again as my phone continued to load many more articles.
Roman Lobanov kidnaps Russia’s Princess of Philanthropy.
“Boss,” Stepan called as he came to my side. The urgency in his voice told me he just saw what I was seeing.
I was about to answer him when my phone vibrated with a call.
Viktor.
“Where the fuck are you?” he questioned, his voice low with the clear indication of anger.
“Manhattan. I just landed.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing? And tell me why you didn’t consult anyone before going to kidnap the Markova girl. The news is all over; even the US media is picking it up. This could sink us.”
I messed up.
I couldn’t say anything to my older brother because he was right.
But, as Liza went ahead of me on the runway, a plan came to mind.
“I have a plan,” I told Viktor. “I’ll set this right, brother.”
As the call ended, the cars arrived, and we got in. Liza was beside me in the backseat of the second car.
“Trouble in paradise already?” she taunted, a smile on her face.
“This is how this will go,” I started, turning towards her. “I’m spinning the script. We announce a charity merger and engagement. You’ll stand beside me as my fiancée to calm the press.”
She laughed in my face like I was some idiot.
“I thought you were smooth, but you’re downright insane,” she said.
“Marry me, or let your father’s enemies tear you apart,” I uttered, my voice low as I leaned closer to her.
That seemed to give her pause. She tilted her head, lips curling as she answered, “Fine. But you’ll regret underestimating me.”
I felt a flicker of heat as her gaze locked on mine.
She’s not broken; she’s baiting me.
I still didn’t know what she was capable of, but I was sure as hell ready to find out.