Chapter Fourteen
Dmitri didn’t sleep. Instead, he went to his office and cued up the monitors surveying the rest of the house.
The whole night had been one giant mistake, from climbing into bed with Keira to letting her convince him that it wasn’t too soon for sex to laying one of his most valued cards on the table.
He’d misplayed things badly.
He knew she wasn’t ready, but he’d let his own desires override his plans.
Just like he had time and again when it came to Keira O’Malley.
Following her into her room and finding that bottle at her lips had stopped his fucking heart.
It didn’t matter that she would hardly drink herself to death tonight—if she took that sip, eventually she would.
He might have threatened to put someone on her night and day, but the truth was that if she wanted alcohol or drugs, she’d find a way to get them no matter how tight the security.
The only thing that would stop her was if she made the choice herself.
He couldn’t make it for her. She was right—she wasn’t a possession that he could put in a glass box and only take out when it suited him. His life would be simpler if that was what he wanted from her, but he’d told her the truth. He didn’t want a toy. He wanted a queen to his king.
The problem was that he didn’t know if it was bait enough.
She wanted power. She’d as much as said it herself, but wanting something and being willing to take it were two very different things.
His phone rang, and he was pathetically grateful for the break. “Romanov.”
“Answering your own phone at this hour? Tsk-tsk.”
He went still. He knew that voice, but he wouldn’t have guessed that the bitch had the audacity to phone his direct line. “Alethea Eldridge. What a pleasant surprise.”
“I think it’s hardly that. Did you get my present, Romanov? I picked it out just for you.”
Now it was his turn to tsk. “We both know who sent that gift, and it wasn’t you. Though it begs the question—did you command your daughter to do it, or have you lost even a modicum of control over her?”
“It’s a moot point. The gift got its point across.” Alethea paused. “How is your darling wife, by the way?”
He expected the dodge, and allowed it. Alethea was too smart to admit she’d lost control of her daughter, even if they both knew it was true.
Dmitri considered her words. “I have no doubt that you love your daughter, but if she so much as touches my wife, I’ll skin her alive while I force you to watch. You be sure to let her know that.”
“So quick with the threats. You must really care about the girl.” Alethea laughed. “Though I don’t know that I’d be making threats I can’t follow through on, Romanov. You don’t have ready access to Mae, but I do have access to something you lost. Or should I say someone?”
He went still. Fuck. “I have no idea what you’re going on about.”
“Don’t you? He was remarkably difficult to break, but my Mae is gifted.
Mikhail Sokolov. He didn’t give us much more than that, but I laid down boundaries to what my daughter could do.
Make one wrong move on your part, and she’s under orders to kill him in whatever creative way her twisted little mind can come up with—and we both know Mae is an artist when it comes to such things. ”
An artist was one way to put it.
He wanted to call her bluff, but Alethea wouldn’t have contacted him over anything less than a sure thing. Which meant Mikhail was under their tender care—and had been long enough for them to force his name out of him. Knowing the man, it took more than simple torture to get even that much.
Dmitri had failed him. He’d sent him off and immediately become so enthralled with Keira that he hadn’t checked in or sent anyone else to do the same.
Another misstep. He tried to think fast and find an angle to exploit, but ultimately Alethea had him painted into a corner, and she had to know it.
She wouldn’t have waited until now to make contact if there was a way for him to regain the upper hand. “I’ll take that under consideration.”
“You do that.”
He gritted his teeth and then forced his face to relax so that tension wouldn’t bleed into his voice. “In the meantime, any damage done to my man from here forward will be repaid in kind, so think carefully about what you want to accomplish, Alethea.”
She laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “We both know that the second you get your hands on me, you’ll repay in kind regardless of whether he’s further injured. Don’t toy with me, Romanov.”
“You will bring him to me. I’ll consider sparing you if he’s not irreparably harmed.
” Mikhail might very well die despite everything Dmitri had to throw at Alethea.
The thought made his hands shake, and he had to press his free one to his desk to keep from throwing something.
Dmitri didn’t make mistakes, but he’d made a massive one when it came to Alethea—two now, if he was keeping track.
“I’ll take that under consideration,” she parroted back to him, and hung up.
Dmitri roared and swept the shit off his desk. “That fucking bitch.” She’d outplayed him. He could blame his distraction on Keira, but the only one responsible was Dmitri. He’d incorrectly assumed that because the Eldridges were in hiding, they were weak and focusing on surviving.
He should have known better.
Alethea hung up the phone and turned to the man handcuffed in the dingy tub. “You know, I think Romanov might actually care whether you live or die. Fascinating.”
Mikhail stared at her with hateful eyes. She’d gagged him before making the call—no one liked interruptions—but now she reached over and unbuckled the strap holding it in place. He coughed and turned his head to the side to spit. “He won’t deal with you. Not for me.”
“Perhaps.” It would bother Romanov if this man died, but he was too smart to risk himself or his wife for a mere second in command.
That wasn’t what this was about. She needed Romanov off-center and expecting an attack from any quarter while her mole inside his operation did what was required.
Expecting an attack from the outside would keep him busy in the meantime.
Mikhail studied her. “You can’t win. You have to know that.”
“Do you have any children, Mikhail?”
His expression instantly shuttered. “Nyet.”
It was a lie, but she chose to let it stand.
Mikhail was only a means to an end. Hunting down his family was a waste of time and resources—but it wouldn’t hurt for him to think otherwise.
“It wouldn’t matter. Fathers are wonderful, but ultimately replaceable.
There’s nothing in this world as pure as a mother’s love.
” She picked up the scalpel Mae had left behind and cleaned it in the bathroom sink.
“My mother created a safe space for her children to grow up in. I merely expanded it for mine. All I wanted was the freedom to operate as I saw fit. I’d bend a knee to Romanov, but being his lapdog was too much to ask. ”
“You are not special. Everyone who swears allegiance to him is treated the same.”
“And if they’re not, he plots their deaths.” She set the scalpel down on the sink with exaggerated care. “He would have killed Mae and me simply for being too good at running our territory within his territory. I won’t stand for it.”
“Mae is psikh. She will kill you in the end.”
She shook her head and forced the ball gag back into his mouth.
“That’s enough out of you. I know my daughter’s faults better than anyone.
It changes nothing.” She would move forward with her plan through sheer self-defense.
Alethea took no pleasure in the thought of killing every man and woman inside the Romanov household, but she’d do what it took to survive.
To do anything else went against her nature.
After Dmitri had walked out and left her sitting there on the floor, a few things had become clear to Keira—the main being that Dmitri was right.
He’d thrown her a life raft, but he couldn’t force her to climb in.
He hadn’t been playing a game or a part when he’d stormed into her bedroom.
With the exception of the two times they’d hooked up since she arrived in New York, it was the first time she’d seen him without his carefully mocking mask firmly in place.
If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he cared whether she was sober or not—and not only because he needed her not to embarrass him.
He’d offered to make her his queen.
She didn’t know what to do with that. He didn’t have to make her his partner, even if it was the illusion of being a partner. Queen to his king. All the power she’d craved, but no more freedom.
There was no freedom for Keira. It was time she made her peace with that.
She pulled herself from the floor. Nothing good came from poking at their last interaction, to go over it again and again, peeling the layers away to try to get to the good stuff beneath.
He’d offered her what was essentially a business transaction, but if she didn’t set the terms now, he’d try to steamroll her just like he had in the past. He wouldn’t be able to help himself.
Dmitri was a force of nature, and her being his wife wouldn’t save her from his machinations.
If anything, she was more at risk than anyone else.
She padded downstairs on bare feet, praying she wouldn’t run into anyone on her way to Dmitri’s office. The door was closed, but no one was around to tell her to stay out, so she opened it and slipped into the room.
And stopped cold.
Papers and pens and the phone lay on the floor, scattered as if Dmitri had swept everything off his desk in a rage.
Considering how clean said desk was, that had to be exactly what he’d done.
He bent over it, his hands braced on the shiny surface, his shoulders heaving as he dragged in a breath. Oh my God, I’ve broken the Russian.
“Romanov?”
He didn’t look at her. “Now is not a good time.”