Chapter 2
Dmitri
Tension tightens at the base of my skull as I stare at the front page of the Las Vegas Review-Journal.
Las Vegas police seize a hundred pounds of narcotics.
My fucking narcotics.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter through gritted teeth, my fingers aching to wrap around Alec’s throat and squeeze the damn life out of him for letting this happen.
He was supposed to transport and deliver our product from place to place without error. That means not dumping duffel bags full of our supply in a field because he got spooked by nearby cops.
He panicked. And panic is expensive.
Fucking durak.
Thanks to that idiot, I’m down thousands of dollars because the delivery couldn’t be made, and my head of transport might get arrested over a stupid mistake. If he was dumb enough to ditch the bags, he was dumb enough not to use gloves when packing the narcotics into them.
As soon as the cops find his fingerprints all over those plastic bags, they’ll be kicking down his door.
I’ll send someone to remind him what happens to men who forget who they work for.
Maybe I should eliminate the risk altogether. Dead men don’t testify.
I rip the front page of the newspaper down the middle and toss the pieces off my desk just as my new assistant walks into my office.
Cara.
I breathe in sharply as I sink back in my chair, anger still radiating from me while watching her every move, something I’ve noticed myself doing more than I should.
“Do you enjoy reading the paper in the morning, Mr. Ivanov? I could pick up a copy for you on my way in,” she offers as she strides toward me with a large cup of coffee in her hand.
She leans over my desk and places the cup in front of me, the neckline of her sheer white blouse low enough for me to see a tease of her cleavage.
“Net. No. I hate reading the paper,” I mutter as I tear my eyes away from her body.
She only started a few days ago, and it’s getting increasingly harder to keep my eyes off her.
I’ve tried to tell myself that I hired her because she looked good on paper.
Her former employers in Boston praised her for being quick on her feet and good under pressure.
Not to mention that with her graduate degree she’s far smarter than anyone else who interviewed.
She’s efficient. Composed. And far too easy to look at.
Not that I can do anything about the attraction, though, other than continue to insist that she work in my office with me.
I have an engagement announcement coming out any day now, one that I don’t even want.
Of course, I want the alliance with the Suyunovs as required by the vor v zakone, the Bratva authority, to secure my position, but I’d rather not deal with the frills of a whole wedding.
I’m just ready to sign the damn paperwork and be done with it all.
Once the alliance is finalized, Vegas is mine.
The Suyunovs get their cut. We get their infrastructure.
Everyone wins.
“I picked up your suits at the dry cleaners this morning. I left them in the coat closet near the elevators,” Cara tells me as she turns on her laptop and signs in, her manicured fingers flying over the keys.
“I need to run out and pick up a few things for you today, but I’ll be back for whatever else you need me to do soon. ”
I watch her for a few moments as she checks my emails and messages on her laptop. She doesn’t have access to my private messages, but I’m letting her handle a lot of the nitty-gritty business stuff that I don’t have time for.
I run multiple different businesses under my family’s LLC, and they each have an underlying purpose. One cleans money. One makes investment fraud a piece of cake. Another helps me transport large amounts of weapons, drugs, and other stolen goods without getting suspicious looks.
Every single thing that I do has a purpose. Everything is thought out. Everything is business. Well, except for the real reason I came to Vegas nearly a year ago.
“That’s fine,” I say. “Just be back by noon.”
“Yes, sir,” Cara replies as she lifts her green eyes to mine. A loose strand of her light brown hair falls onto her forehead, the sunlight giving it a reddish hue.
So far, she’s been good at her job. She does whatever I ask without question, and she’s quick about it. She doesn’t flinch at the kind of details that make other people nervous.
I assume that she understands the value of looking the other way in Sin City.
Muffled voices outside my office make both of us look toward the double doors right before they burst open. A tall, slender woman with her blonde hair slicked back into a tight chignon strides inside with Karly scrambling after her.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Ivanov. I told her I needed to ask you first before allowing visitors to walk into your office,” Karly tells me, her face reddening.
“I’m not just some visitor. I’m going to be his wife,” Annika says, scowling at Karly as she plants her manicured hands on her narrow waist. An out-of-place, out-of-season, overly thick fur coat cloaks her lean body, almost hiding the skin-tight, wine-colored dress that she wears underneath with a pair of black stockings and heels.
“I could’ve been in a meeting. You’ll wait next time instead of storming in here,” I tell her as I stand from my seat.
“Fine,” Annika huffs and sheds her coat before tossing it at Karly. “Put that somewhere.”
Karly stares down at the coat like she wants to burn it, but she forces a smile on her face before leaving the room with it.
I glance over at Cara to see her staring at Annika. She’s probably wondering why Annika has such an attitude. I assume it’s because her father gives her everything that she wants, including a marriage to a rich man.
Annika walks my way, her eyes quickly landing on Cara. She uncurls a long finger, jabbing her fingernail in Cara’s direction. “Who is this suka?”
Before I can answer, Cara stands from her seat and faces Annika, her hands joining in front of her. “I’m Cara, Mr. Ivanov’s new assistant.”
Annika looks at Cara like she’s a mangy stray someone dragged in off the street. “An assistant? You already have Karly. Why do you need another girl to bring you coffee?”
Anyone who is prettier, smarter, or richer than Annika is immediately on her radar to insult. It’s pathetic.
“Oh, I do more than fetch Mr. Ivanov’s coffee. Whatever he needs, I do for him,” Cara replies in a cool, even voice, her polite smile never wavering.
Was that innuendo?
Annika wrinkles her nose at Cara before pursing her lips and jutting her hip out more. “Just like a good little bitch.” This time she says the insult in English rather than trying to disguise it in Russian.
“Dostatochno. Enough,” I say as I motion for Annika to stop tormenting my assistant. If I couldn’t hear the jealousy in her voice, I would’ve seen it written all over her damn face. “Cara, can you go run those errands now?”
I expect Cara to be enraged for being spoken to like that, but she gives me an eager look and a nod, as if Annika’s words didn’t affect her and the other woman no longer exists. “Yes, sir. I’ll bring you back something tasty for lunch.”
Now I’m almost certain that was an insinuation.
The woman has no idea who she’s dealing with, though, or she’d keep her mouth shut.
Annika steps toward Cara like she’s ready to tear her hair out, but I grab her wrist firmly, preventing her from budging more than an inch.
If we’re going to be stuck together in an arranged marriage, she can’t jump down the throat of every woman who talks to me or looks at me for more than a second.
This is just business, and already she’s playing the part of a jealous fiancée way too well.
Once Cara walks out of the room with a natural sway of her curvy hips, a sharp contrast to Annika’s emaciated body, I turn to her with a stern look on my face. “I’d rather you not scare off my new assistant. This one is actually competent.”
Annika scoffs and sits on the edge of my desk, crossing her legs as she rests her palms on the sleek wood. “I can see right through that little whore. She just wants into your pants,” she remarks in Russian.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I don’t have time to deal with this. With her.
All I need her to do is show up on the wedding day and sign the paperwork.
“Why are you here?” I ask her.
Annika shrugs as she peers up at me, her icy eyes making her skin look that much paler. “I wanted to see you. We’re about to be married. We should spend more time together.”
I tense up as she runs a hand up my chest. We’re not even officially engaged yet, and she’s acting like she owns me.
“I’m busy today,” I tell her as I brush her hand away, not feeling even a glimpse of desire for her.
The alliance will be worth it. It has to be.
Annika pouts as she tries to reach for my belt. “You can’t spare just a little bit of time for me?”
I step away from her, an annoyed sigh breaking from me. “I told you that I have work to do.”
Annika drops her hands in her lap with a bitter look on her face. “How long are you going to deny me, Dmitri? This is going to happen. We might as well start making the best of it.”
My jaw tenses as I move around my desk, putting distance between us before she tries to undo my belt again. She’s made similar advances before that I’ve shut down. I’d rather just focus on the business part of this whole arrangement.
If we get married, the only reason we’ll have a wedding ceremony is to make the marriage look more legit to those on the outside. It’s better if people think that we want to be together. Everything is about appearances.
I guess I need to start doing a better job of that if we get engaged, before I start pissing off the wrong people. I might be running the show for now, but it’s not official until the council votes to make it happen. And those old bastards could always change their minds.
“Our engagement is still in the negotiation phase. It’s nothing more as of right now,” I remind her before gesturing to the double doors. “No more dropping in unannounced. I have two empires to run.”
Annika huffs as she stands from my desk and smooths down her dress, making a show of pulling the material over her nonexistent hips and ass. In Russian, as if to remind me of the stakes, she says, “Remember who can make your empire even bigger. My father.”
I grind my teeth as she walks past me to leave my office. Despite having so much power and money, I still have to bend to the will of other people. I’m willing to temporarily if I get to stand taller than all the rest at the end.
I just have to keep everything under control.
And control is the one thing I don’t ever lose.