Chapter 3
Cara
Meeting Annika in Dmitri’s office was… enlightening.
If I wasn’t motivated before, I am now. Her wedding dress will never see the aisle.
Darkness cloaks downtown Las Vegas as sunset submits to the night, to the headlights, store lights, and streetlights illuminating the busy sidewalks and streets.
I pull down the visor of my baseball cap, casting an extra shadow over my face as I head down the sidewalk toward one of the city’s finest Russian establishments.
I won’t be dining in tonight, but I know who will thanks to the appointment on his calendar.
My heartbeat picks up faster the closer I get, but before I can reach the restaurant, my phone rings in the pocket of my black coat. I slow down to a stop and check the caller ID, my blood running cold as “Deadbeat” flashes across my screen.
I was expecting a call, but not right now when I’m in the middle of doing recon.
Stalking.
Same thing.
With a grimace, I step into the nearest alleyway to get off the sidewalk and answer the phone. “Hi, Dad.”
“Cara, my dear, what took you so long to answer?”
Dmitri likes control. My father worships it. Which is just another reason not to get on his bad side. He can’t stand it when people don’t fall in line.
Especially his own daughter.
“Sorry, I’m just picking up dinner,” I tell him, forcing my voice to be steady and calm.
“Well? For feck’s sake, give me an update. Have you gotten closer to him?” he questions me impatiently.
I lean my back against the brick wall, choosing my words carefully. “Yes, I have. He’s letting me sit in on a meeting tomorrow, so he’s trusting me more.”
“He needs to personally trust you, Cara. I don’t care what’s going on in his meetings. I want to know what’s going on in his house.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I understand. I’m trying to be professional first. I don’t want to overstep and get fired.”
“This is a critical mission, yeah?” Sean reminds me in a stern voice. “I didn’t trust you with this to run around and do his bidding. Has he mentioned who the next Pakhan will be? Is the rumor true? He’s engaged to that prissy Suyunov bitch?”
“He speaks to a lot of people in Russian, so I’m not sure about Pakhan, but I-I think he and Annika Suyunov are engaged.”
“You think so? It’s a simple yes or no answer, Cara,” he grumbles into the phone.
“I didn’t see a ring on her finger, but she’s already referring to herself as his wife.”
“So, then you need to figure out a way to break up his engagement before the wedding happens, yeah? We’re running out of time!”
His raised voice still has the power to make me feel like I’m thirteen again.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, my voice threatening to waver. “I’m doing all that I can without looking suspicious.”
Sean sighs heavily into the phone. He has no confidence in me, which makes my heart ache. “Just get it done, yeah? We can’t let this alliance happen, or we’ll be hemorrhaging money something fierce in a matter of weeks. And you know who will have to pay the cost for that, don’t you?”
Me.
He’ll sell me to the highest bidder.
“I won’t let that happen,” I blurt out, unable to rein back my desperation. “Their relationship is already weaker than I thought it would be. If you can even call it a relationship. They’re not close.”
“Then capitalize on that weakness. Do not let them get any closer,” Sean warns me. “It’s fine if the eejit fucks her, but she can’t become his wife.”
Judging from how uninterested Dmitri seems in her, I doubt they’re sleeping together unless he’s really desperate for someone to warm his bed. He doesn’t seem like the desperate type, though.
“I’ll do my best to drive a wedge between them,” I tell him.
“No, you won’t do your best. You will do it, yeah? We talked about this,” he scolds me. “I chose you for this above everyone else. Don’t forget what the consequences will be if you can’t get it done.”
The call ends with no reassurance, just expectation.
Swallowing hard, I gather myself and step out of the alleyway, venturing down the sidewalk slowly as I pass in front of the fancy restaurant with a large front window.
My eyes quickly scan the brightly lit interior, and I catch a glimpse of Dmitri and Annika seated at a table in the middle of the restaurant.
Annika’s back is to me, but I get a decent look at Dmitri. Maybe it’s just his resting face, but the gorgeous man looks miserable as Annika waves her hands around and talks animatedly.
Lately, he’s been trying to be nicer to her in front of the office staff, but I can see right through his attempts to pretend that he wants to marry her.
In our world, marriages aren’t about love. They’re about leverage. Building legacies.
My father thought that as Dmitri’s assistant, I might overhear him say who’s in charge of the Bratva, bad-mouth his future in-laws, or dig up some dirt good enough to start a war between the two families.
So far, I’ve got nothing other than that he only has lukewarm feelings at best for his possible bride-to-be.
I take the closest crosswalk and move to the sidewalk on the other side of the street, using my phone camera to zoom in on the restaurant’s window. It’s fairly blurry, but I can still sort of make out Dmitri’s expression as he listens to whatever Annika is yammering on about.
Days later, I still can’t believe she called me a good little bitch. I’ll actually be doing Dmitri a favor by ruining their destined marriage.
Not that he’s probably any better.
My father calls him ruthless.
So far, I haven’t seen a glimpse of that side of him, but I know it’s there, lurking.
So, how do I break them apart?
I chew on my bottom lip in thought as I continue watching them, noting how Dmitri swishes his wine around in the glass then downs it in only two sips.
How Annika keeps adjusting her dress and her hair.
I hate that her face is classically pretty, despite being rotten on the inside.
She certainly acted like she wanted to mark her territory when we first met.
I think she felt threatened by me. As if I could tempt away the rich, handsome Russian mobster from her with just the crook of my finger.
The only interest Dmitri has shown in me is an obvious appreciation for my breasts that he’s repeatedly stared at more times than I can count for longer than is professional or polite. Breasts that Annika is sorely lacking.
It might be a long shot, but there’s one weakness I haven’t exploited yet.
I don’t see Annika unhooking her claws from Dmitri even though he’s already halfway out the door.
Hiring a prostitute to try to sleep with him and send the pictures to Annika would never work, or my father would’ve already done it.
The idea settles in slowly. It’s dangerous, but it could work.
I tuck my phone into my coat pocket and walk back across the street, my adrenaline picking up as motivation sets in. Even though I’m on a tight budget, I’ll need to buy a few extra things to put my plan in motion.
As I pass the restaurant again, I steal one more glance in Dmitri’s direction, watching him run his fingers through his dark hair as he gazes down at the table in disinterest. It’s so hard to get a read on him, and for my plan to work, I’ll have to fix that.
Dmitri suddenly glances up and even turns his head in my direction, making my heart jump into my throat.
I quickly duck my head, hiding under the visor of my black baseball cap as I hurry away from the restaurant.
Please don’t let him have seen me.
If he catches me watching him, he’ll suspect that I’m up to no good and probably torture the truth out of me.
My pace doesn’t slow down until I’m a few blocks away. I inhale sharply as I stop in front of a large, lit-up storefront, my eyes landing on a blue mini-dress displayed on a mannequin.
Sleeveless. Tight. Short. The dark blue of Dmitri’s eyes.
It wouldn’t hurt to give him a little something more to look at.
My resolve hardens as I walk inside the upscale clothing store. Racks and racks of nice clothes from expensive brands spread out in front of me. I haven’t been shopping for something nice in a while, but I think this counts as an occasion to use my emergency-only credit card.
I venture around the store, looking at dresses on various racks in search of the perfect one. Or a few. Definitely a few.
“Whoa,” I say as I pause in front of a red sheath dress.
There’s certainly more length to it, but the deep V-neckline and faux wrap style will complement all my curves just right. If I’m going to tempt a man like Dmitri Ivanov, subtle won’t be enough.
As I pull it off the rack and admire it, pressure tightens in my chest. It’s been harder to sleep lately. Harder to breathe.
But I don’t have room to fall apart.
“I just love that one, don’t you?”
I crash back down to reality as I turn around to see a sales associate approaching me with a cheery look on her face. I can’t lose my cool like that, especially in front of the wrong people.
“I do, but I think it’ll need some friends,” I reply as a smile crosses my lips. “Something professional but…”
“Tempting?” A knowing look settles on her face.
I’m sure I’m not the only one who wants to catch the eye of their boss. My underlying motives are just very different.
“Exactly,” I tell her. “Any suggestions?”
“Of course,” she replies before gesturing for me to follow her.
I take one more look at the dress in my hand, solidifying what I’m about to commit to.
My father told me to break up their engagement by any means necessary, and despite this being one of the last methods he would probably want me to do, he would accept it because it’ll give him what he wants.
The Irish mob will secure its place as Las Vegas’ top crime syndicate, and the Bratva will gradually lose its power and influence in Sin City. We have to unravel them one string at a time, starting with the Ivanov-Suyunov alliance.