Chapter 14 Jo
fourteen
Jo
“Hands off, Vasiliev,” Sam growls at Illya, who had been trying to fix a strand of my hair.
“Oh, hush,” I admonish him, shifting myself in the seat of the towncar.
I’m shoved between the twins, smack in the middle of the bench.
It’s a tight fit, but we have no choice, seeing as the back only has three seats, and if Mikhail witnesses one of us sitting up front, it could jeopardize our cover.
Kole, West, and Hayden are following behind us in the Mission Im-pizza-ble van, which will serve as our getaway in case things go to shit.
Sam scowls at me through the rear-view mirror. “We agreed, no more touching than what’s necessary.”
“And it is necessary,” Illya snaps, “for her to look as perfectly put together as the only daughter of the head of the Murphy family, otherwise Mikhail will see right through us.” He holds up a grainy picture of my mugshot from when I was arrested.
My hair is a rat's nest, there are dark circles under my eyes, and I look like absolute hell.
All dolled up like this, even if Mikhail looked at this picture yesterday, he would never make the connection.
The only thing that might give us away is if he’s seen the person I’m supposed to be impersonating.
“And you’re sure nobody has seen this…Siobhan Murphy in person?” It would be mighty hard to pretend to be someone and look the exact opposite of them.
“Only Killian Murphy’s inner circle, as far as I know. All anyone else knows is that she has red hair and is an omega,” Luka snickers. “Really, it works out perfectly for us that all you Irish families look alike.”
My jaw drops in indignation, but Illya takes over the conversation.
“Due to her designation, her father keeps her tightly under wraps. But…it will not be hard to convince our father that Luka and I managed to tempt the daughter into the outside world with promises of love and affection. But…you will get your accent under control, right?”
I roll my eyes, dropping the southern twang that falls from me naturally. “Of course, Illya. Do you think I’m some kind of amateur?"
“Woah. That’s weird.” Luka shakes his head. “Okay, so let’s recap. How did we get you out into the world?”
“You accidentally went into the wrong room at the Murphy residence during a handoff and found me.” I recite the story they told me.
“We were instantly drawn to each other, and Father was very pleased I took to you, given your family connections and the fact you buy your guns from us—which means you’re likely to purchase me from him.
He does care somewhat about my happiness though, and since we are still in the early stages of courting, he has not reached out to Mikhail himself regarding a contract. ”
“Perfect,” Luka purrs.
“If you used that tone on my omega again while not in front of Father, I will rip your dick off, Luka.” Kole’s voice comes in through the small receiver in our ears, and Illya grimaces.
“Just getting into character, bratishka.”
Kole snorts. “Yes, well, keep your character to yourself if you want any hope of finding your own omega. I doubt ‘lacking dick and knot’ is on any woman’s checklist for finding a male partner.”
“Hush now,” I scowl, smoothing down the skirt of my dress as I chastise my alpha. “We’re almost there, and don’t forget, you need to stay hidden until we give the code word.”
“I know, I know,” he huffs, “I do not know why you think I will not be able to control myself.”
“You did beat two men to death with your bare hands not even a week ago, Sugar Bear,” I say lightly, taking a compact out of my clutch to double check my makeup.
“Those men were physically assaulting you and deserved worse,” he growls.
“Just remember,” I pat my thigh where my new dagger is strapped on under the dress as I slip back into my Southern accent, “I’m not defenseless this time.”
“We need your dominance, Nikolai,” Illya reminds him.
“Father would be able to shrug any of our commands off, but we need you to force him to sign a transfer of ownership before we kill him. If you lose your head too soon, we will not inherit any of the family businesses, and Alexei will be free to continue to trade omegas as he pleases.”
Lucky Mikhail Vasiliev isn’t a beta, or else this plan would be useless, considering alpha dominance only works on omegas and other alphas.
“Yes, yes, I will keep my head on.” He huffs, and I find a small smile tilting at my lips.
“I love you. Everythin’ will be fine.”
“And I love you, lyubov' moya. We are pulling around to the back of the building now. Be safe.”
The car comes to a stop, and I shift between the two brothers, glad I put some alpha-gel under my nose so I don’t have to smell everyone.
I nearly bathed in the scent-neutralizer myself, making sure I was covered head to toe so nobody gets a whiff of how close to my heat I am.
Relaxing my shoulders, I put on my best charming smile and prepare to pretend to be madly in love with my mate’s brothers.
Luka slides out first, then holds his hand out to me, helping me out of the vehicle.
“Thank you so much…Alpha.” I flutter my lashes, making sure my southern accent is locked up tight.
Mikhail Vasiliev may not immediately connect me to my real identity, but I don’t need him to have any doubts.
Illya exits the car behind us, and I look up at the restaurant in front of us. “Why is it called…‘Slick Move?’”
The letters are small at the top of the building, with gold plating.
“That is the sex-club portion of the business. We are going to the restaurant.” Illya comes to my side, motioning to the building immediately next to it.
“The club is not yet open, but once it is, there will be a…secret sort of entrance connecting the businesses. Like we’ve said, once we are in charge, we will halt all omega trafficking.
There is plenty of legal, consensual sex-work to be done. ”
“And illegal sex-work,” Luka adds as we start our walk into the building, “well, at least the kind that involves murder-for-hire. But…we’ll tell you about the business plans you inspired later.”
Kole growls into my earpiece, but I keep my smile on.
He shoots me a wink as we approach the large metal door that a man in a suit opens for us. “Thank you, Sergei.” Illya nods at the man, who bows his head slightly.
“You’ve got company,” Sergei says gruffly, his brows furrowed. “I had to let them in—”
“We expected as much,” Illya cuts him off. “Thank you.”
Sergei only nods again, but then keeps his head down as we pass.
“That is one of our men,” Luka explains as we walk in, subtly making sure I know that Sergei is firmly with Illya and Luka—not their father. And if they’ve got company…Mikhail is already here.
I can’t even bring myself to appreciate the beauty of the space. It’s a real, honest-to-goodness, fine-dining establishment. I’d never be able to afford to eat here in a thousand years. Crystal chandeliers, ornate crown molding, the whole shebang.
“We are in the process of finalizing our menu,” Illya states calmly as we walk past the concierge stand. “Our chef will be bringing out all our options, and as our omega, it’s important that you love every single item we serve.”
I know I’m supposed to be pretending to be their omega, but something jars inside me at his words. Right. I need to make sure to sell this.
A small giggle leaves my lips as we keep walking towards the back. “Oh, Illya, you can’t expect me to love everything on the menu. I’m sure your chef is wonderful—but everyone has different tastes.”
“That might be true.” Luka shoots me a wink. “But the only one we care about is yours.”
“How…sweet.” A deep, accented voice rumbles, making my hair stand on end.
I glance over at the table in the very back of the room, where an alpha I can only assume is Mikhail Vasiliev is by himself, sitting at a table for four.
“I was not aware that you were to start bringing your whores to family meetings.”
The man standing directly behind him—which I’m assuming is Alexei Volkov, his right-hand man—snickers, as do about ten other guards that are stationed around the room.
Alexei is a formidable looking man, with blonde hair and blue eyes—the complete opposite of Mikhail.
I would be embarrassed about the slight red that colors my cheeks in response, but this is probably the exact reaction a sheltered girl like Siobhan Murphy would have.
“I am going to kill him,” Kole mutters in my ear.
“Stand down, big guy…” I hear Hayden in the background.
“That is no way to speak to our omega, Otets,” Illya tuts, and Mikhail arches a brow. “Any reason you brought so many men?”
“You can never be too careful,” he says slowly, his gaze running over me before his eyes jump to Sam behind me. “And who is this?”
“This is Tobias Crane,” Illya jerks his chin in Sam’s direction. "Siobhan's personal bodyguard.”
“Wherever she goes, I go.” Sam’s voice is deadly, and I internally tense. Mikhail is not going to take kindly to him speaking out of turn.
But…he surprises me. “Siobhan? Just how are you so important that you need a personal security detail?”
Luka’s hand pats mine. “She’s—”
“I’m asking the omega, son.”
I let my eyes widen in surprise before slightly lowering my head.
It’s just an act.
It’s just an act.
“Siobhan Murphy, sir. My father is Killian—”
“You’re the only daughter of Killian Murphy?” He doesn’t try to hide the surprise in his voice. At my nod, he lets out a laugh. “Well done, boys! How the hell did you manage that? Murphy is a stingy bastard and won’t usually let her see the light of day.”
Illya and Luka exchange a surprised look. “Well—”
“Nevermind, nevermind, sit! Come sit!” He looks almost jovial as he waves us over. “I suppose that’s why the table is set for four, eh?” Mikhail looks around the room, his gaze darkening slightly. “I see you’ve brought some men as well.”
Luka’s smile is cutting as he pulls my chair out for me.
“Well, as you said, Otets, you can never be too careful. Someone could have heard about meeting with all the Vasiliev men in one place and decide now is the best time to strike.” He sits in his seat beside me, putting me directly across from Mikhail Vasiliev.
Kole may have gotten his eyes and hair from his father, but he must have received the rest from his mother because those are the only two similarities.
“Well, not all the Vasiliev men,” Illya mutters.
“Do not bring up that bastard in front of me,” Mikhail snaps.
My stomach drops.
My vision tinges red.
I need to keep my mouth shut, I know I do, but somehow the words are coming out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Imagine, having the audacity to impregnate your mistress, and then referring to your son as a derogatory term that stemmed from your actions.”
“Lisichka—” Kole’s panicked voice in my ear has my heart lurching.
Mikhail’s face turns to stone. “And just what, Siobhan, would you know about my third son?”
Both Illya and Luka tense.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Nothing,” I say quickly—almost too quickly.
I backpedal, hoping to high hell that Kole knows I don’t mean anything I’m about to say.
“Except for…for how much money he cost you. I can understand why you would…not want him mentioned. I just don’t understand what him being a bastard has to do with it. ”
Mikhail’s brows furrow for a moment, before his shoulders relax. “Your father has trained you well in the art of getting yourself out of a grave of your own making. Perhaps that is something you can teach to my sons.” He motions between the two of them.
Trying my best to make my smile seem genuine, I nod once. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He smiles, then motions for a nearby waiter to fill up our wine glasses. “Really, I prefer an omega that doesn’t speak at all, but if you must speak, at least you seem intelligent enough.”
I bare my teeth. “Thank you, sir.”
Mikhail takes a long, slow drink from his wine glass. “Now,” he sets it down, clapping his hands together, “I am rather excited to see just what your chef has whipped up for the menu for this restaurant. I’m certainly paying him enough.”
Luka shifts in his seat. “We are paying him. This is mine and Illya’s venture, remember?”
Mikhail snorts. “It is all my money, umnik. As long as I am breathing, and as long as you bear the Vasiliev name and my blood—everything you are belongs to me.”
Luka opens his mouth to argue, but Illya—whose arm is resting on the seat behind me—tightens his hand on Luka’s shoulder. His mouth immediately snaps shut.
“Of course, Otets,” Illya nods, “please, forgive my brother.”
Kole curses something Russian in my ear, but I have no idea what it means.
Mikhail grunts, waving him off. “Why I would expect anything but disrespect from the two of you, I will never know. At least the bastard never toed the line with me. He knew his place.”
Alexei, surprisingly, lets out a little scoff.
Mikhail scowls into his glass. “You were always too soft on the boy, Alexei.”
“I was never soft,” the man snaps. “But you don’t make a sword stronger by snapping it in half.”
Kole’s father takes another large drink of wine. “No, you just coddle it until it’s letting millions of dollars worth of omegas loose into the world.”
The shift is subtle, but I sense the way that both Illya and Luka tense. Alexei talking back to Mikhail this way must not be normal. At least, not in public.
He continues after another gulp. “I should have made sure the durak was dead along with his mother.”
My heart stops. His…mother?
Luka and Illya quietly curse next to me before I hear Kole’s deadly voice in my ear. “What did he just say?”
“What are you talking about?” Alexei asks sharply. “You always said you had nothing to do with her death.”
“Why do you care, Alexei?” Mikhail smirks into his glass. “You always denied being in love with my mistress. But why else would you have been so soft on the boy?”
It’s like we’re not even here as Mikhail and Alexei continue their conversation. Kole’s father is much more…argumentative than I would have expected, given the situation.
Too argumentative.
My eyes dart down to the wine in front of us, the same alcohol that Mikhail is draining from his glass. One glass of wine shouldn’t be enough to inebriate him to this degree.
Someone must have tampered with it.
“That is it, he dies now.” Kole swears, and I can’t even tell him not to. There’s no way for me to say anything and have it go undetected.
Alexei’s eyes darken as he takes a step forward, but his voice is quiet. “Why?”
A malicious grin takes over Mikhail’s face, but he doesn’t have a chance to answer before the door to the kitchen bangs open.
Fuck.
Kole.