Chapter Seven
Dmitri Konstantinov
The grainy CCTV footage flickered across my screen. I took a sip of whiskey, giving it my full attention.
In the weeks after Inna stole from me, Akim flagged some men outside her apartment who were watching from a distance.
It raised the possibility that Inna owed them money, which was why she stole from me.
Akim dug deeper, and what he found stretched years back.
Those same men kidnapped Inna’s father years ago, and they worked for Iker Perez.
Iker ran a small crime organization in Mexico, the kind that liked to pretend it was bigger than it was.
Their reach extended into small areas of Florida, just enough to feel important but not enough to matter.
They aren’t Bratva enemies, and they sure as hell aren’t friends.
They existed in that careful middle ground where survival depended on knowing exactly how small you were.
The clip showed how his men took Inna’s father one night on his way home, a minute from his front door. One moment he was there, the next he was being folded into the back of a vehicle like luggage. The van drove off, and the street went back to normal, as if nothing had happened.
I paused the video and leaned back, the burn of whiskey settling low in my chest. There was something almost admirable about the execution. The more I watched, the less it felt random. Inna’s father wasn’t taken by accident.
The same men were watching Inna and Cole, which meant that the two would soon go missing, just like their father.
I lived long enough to know that coincidences were just what weak men called mysterious situations.
I did not believe in it. Either Inna’s father was in serious trouble that got him taken off the streets, or he was involved in a shady business.
And it was business that ensnared his daughter without her realizing it.
Both roads led to the same place. Inna was already a pawn or a liability someone was circling, waiting for the right moment to collect.
The door opened without a knock just as I raised my glass again to take another sip. For one to walk into my office like that meant they either forgot who I was or had lived long enough around me to know they didn’t need to remember.
But it was Grandma.
California didn’t slow her down. She came back more settled in herself, the kind of woman who had seen enough of the world that nothing it did surprised her anymore. Two months away, and she walked back as though time itself had learned not to argue with her.
After Rodion’s pretty, naive wife had a miscarriage, Grandma grew restless. She moved to California, chasing the one thing she wanted before she died: great-grandchildren.
Death has been waiting for her for years. She just hadn’t agreed to the meeting.
“I thought you were dead,” I said, watching her move in slowly with her walking stick.
“I’m not here for your stupid jokes.” She declared and lowered herself onto the sofa. I watched her a second longer, not out of concern but out of curiosity. The woman looked ready to outlive every last one of us just to prove a point.
“What did you expect me to think?” I took another sip and let the burn settle. “I went to your room and found you passed out. Did California have you climbing walls?”
She scoffed. “I was exhausted from the flight. And forget that.” Her hand cut through the air, eyes sharpening on me. “You have a son? What kind of nonsense is that? Are you even sure he’s yours?”
I stood and walked over with the glass still in my hand. “Why? Did I ever say I was infertile?” I took the sofa across from her.
Her gaze hardened with annoyance. “You can’t fool me, Dmitri.”
A smile pulled at my mouth. This has become my favorite topic lately. “I have a son. And his mother will be my wife soon.”
“No.” Her stick hit the tiles, and the crack echoed through the room. For a woman her age, she still knew how to command a space without raising her voice. “You will marry Malia, and that is final.”
I leaned back and watched her, turning the glass in my hand. I tried to decide whether to laugh or admire the audacity.
“You know very well what happens if you ruin this,” she continued, her voice dropping. “You will put your organization at risk.”
The idea of marrying the governor’s daughter was mine, something I could change the moment I decided to. But Grandma had wrapped herself around the idea that, somewhere along the way, she had forgotten the marriage was never about my organization. It was revenge. It has always been revenge.
“Funny,” I said. “I don’t remember asking for permission. Looks like Rodion sat you down and filled your head with ideas about control?”
Her eyes flashed, but I didn’t stop.
“You’re forgetting something,” I added. “I don’t need permission to get back to Zachary. Rodion and Roman played their part, but this is my fight. I do it my way.”
She straightened, grip tightening around the stick. “This has nothing to do with control. The plan was clear. Bring in the politician and use him to get close to Zachary.”
I raised my glass and took a slow sip.
“Malia’s father and Zachary are enemies. You use one enemy to go after the other.” She pressed on.
“That’s when you have no other options.” I stood and walked to the bar to pour another drink. “I found a better one.”
“Lying that you have a son and a wife?” She asked.
“Call it whatever you want. I will get to Zachary through someone he trusts. Someone close enough to slip past his guards.” I declared.
“And how will you make his friend cooperate? Are you planning to go to Cuba?”
I scoffed and watched her in silence. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t running things anymore. That chapter closed the moment her three grandsons carved the territory between themselves and made it clear the old rules were optional.
“Iker Perez,” I said. “He is Zachary’s old friend.”
She recognized the name immediately. “Iker Perez? The Mexican?”
I didn’t answer. She knew what silence meant from me. She studied me for a moment, weighing it, then nodded.
“That could work,” she admitted.
Of course, it could. Going through Zachary’s friend was the quieter and cleaner approach.
An enemy put people on edge, kept their eyes open, and had their hands close to weapons.
But a friend? A friend walked through the front door.
A friend sat at the table. People didn’t guard themselves from those they trusted, and that was exactly where you hit them.
Mark was the only option we had at the time, not the best one.
Then this thief, named Inna Grace, walked in, unaware that she carried something more valuable than the money she stole.
It was a new and better angle that meant I wouldn’t have to put a ring on Malia’s finger to get what I wanted.
“So where does this girl and this fake son come in?” she asked.
“She will lead me to Iker Perez.” I didn’t know what business Iker had with Inna and her family. But since Iker needed Inna, keeping her close would make Iker come to me. It would be a trap that closed before he knew he was standing in one.
“So the boy isn’t yours,” she said. She didn’t bother hiding that she wished he were.
“Since you’ve decided to get into my business, you might as well be useful.” I walked back to my desk. “Arrange a meeting with Mark Conway. We are canceling the wedding.”
Her lips pressed together, and she let out a slow breath. “Mark has been my friend for a long time,” she said. “If we’re doing this, it will be done properly. I’ll invite them for dinner.”
Of course, she would. Appearances mattered to her almost as much as control did.
“Take some time to think,” she added. “If you’re certain about this new plan, then we will end the agreement.”
“It’s already decided.”
Ending the engagement would cut unnecessary weight and leave me with cleaner hands to work with.
Grandma always said I took after her husband. A man I never met but somehow still carried. I used to think she said it as a warning. But the way she folded into my decision without another word said more than she intended. She never said it out loud, but I was her favorite grandson.
Good looks included, of course.
“Then your fake wife and son should be at that dinner,” she declared and got up. “The dinner will happen after the auction.”
She left, and I let my mind settle on the auction.
Everything was arranged. I already knew that Inna would not bring her parents.
She just had enough defiance in her to believe she still had a choice.
It made it easy to move her without her realizing it.
The first step was to present her at the auction as my wife.
And there was no better room for it than the one Iker Perez would sit in.
I needed this man in my trap. And the cleanest way to walk him into it was through the woman he couldn’t seem to leave alone.
I picked up my phone and dialed Akim. He answered before the second ring. “Boss.”
“Are the documents ready?”
“Yes,” he responded.
“Good. She knows your face, so stay out of sight. Send Ivan tomorrow. Make sure he understands exactly what needs to be done.”
“Yes, boss.”
I hung up and let a smile settle on my mouth. Inna called me sick while she had seen nothing yet. She started this, and she would keep dancing until I decided the music was over.