Chapter 21
Damien
I'm at Red Poppy going over the final paperwork for a gun shipment that arrived this morning when one of the soldiers I left with Roxanne contacts me.
"If she has so much as a single hair out of place, you'll find your neck twisted at an unnatural angle tonight, Stefan," I say without hesitation.
"No, boss. Just wanted to inform you she spoke with some guy, and it didn't look friendly. I’ve sent you a photo. Name's Stiles Campbell."
"Got it."
I check the photo, and my body locks up when I see my wife's face. Future wife, the demon inside me whispers, but even he knows it's just a formality at this point.
If memory serves, Stiles is Roxanne's ex. The ex who fucked a blonde in Roxanne’s bed. How dare he breathe the same air as her?
"We have a problem at one of the poker tables," Vasili says, walking into the office right then.
I make a mental note to pay the idiot who bothered Roxanne a visit and turn to look at my right hand.
"A cop. He's high and won't accept that he lost all his money," he tells me.
"Hmm. Remind me to raise the club entry fee. I'm tired of all these morons who can afford to be here."
I push out of my desk chair and follow Vasili out into the main lounge.
When I set the club entrance fee at two hundred thousand dollars, I thought I'd weed out all the idiots who think they're kings of the universe just because they've seen a bag of money.
It's still early, so the club is mostly empty, except for a judge staring, fascinated, at Everette dancing on the pole and a poker table where my problem sits.
"Gentlemen, what's the issue?" My tone makes it clear there better not be any issue here.
"THE HOUSE ROBBED ME!" shouts the man who won't have vocal cords after I rip them out and peel them like tangerines.
"Nobody shouts at me in my own club, and nobody accuses me of theft. We clear?"
Two other men at the table hear me and immediately drop their cards and leave.
The dealer shows me the footage of the game.
When I told the Council I wanted cameras above every table, many associates said I was crazy, but I wanted proof that if they lose money, it's because they suck at this game, not because I'm stealing from them.
I have other methods of stealing, I don't need to do it at a poker table.
I check every second, and as expected, the man played a shit hand and consequently lost eighty thousand dollars.
"Since it's obvious your entire brain is coated in cocaine, I'll let you leave here in one piece," I tell him and turn to go when the idiot decides he doesn't need those vocal cords after all.
"YOU'RE A SCAMMER! WITH THE MONEY WE PAY TO BE HERE, YOU SHOULD BE LICKING OUR SOLES!"
A maniacal smile spreads across my face, and Vasili has already moved to grab him by the shoulders.
"I was actually having a rather boring day. Vasili, make him comfortable in the basement while I wrap up here."
Vasili is more massive than the problematic individual and has all his brain cells in the right place, so he pushes him toward the hallway leading to my playground without much resistance.
The judge turns his head from Everette and raises an eyebrow, but all I do is smile at him and signal Tommy to bring him a glass of Macallan.
As I'm about to step into my favorite place in the whole club, I hear his voice.
"I need some of your time, Damien."
I look over my shoulder and see the man who's been closer to me than my own father.
When he helped me escape Warsaw, he put his own skin on the line for me, and that kind of loyalty is something I could never repay.
Even now I don't know what strings he had to pull to ensure my sister's safety in Poland, but his only condition was that I never set foot in Warsaw again.
A promise I only made after he allowed me to get weekly updates from home so I'd know our dear mother wasn't exploiting her anymore.
"Didn't know you were the type who begs for attention and sweet talk, Sarin," I say, laughing.
He shakes his head.
"Nothing but nonsense comes out of that mouth, but I know you mean it affectionately."
"Vasili, make sure our friend can never audition for The X Factor, okay?"
"Don't worry, he won't be singing opera anytime soon," he replies and closes the basement door behind him.
I turn to Sarin and follow as he heads toward my office.
"I heard something about a wedding," Sarin tells me as he drapes his jacket over the chair in front of my desk.
"Don't tell me you want to walk me down the aisle."
"Don't be an idiot." But I see the trace of a smile on his lips. "I have news from Warsaw. Your future wife's name was mentioned at an event, and I know for certain your dear mommy heard it."
My body tenses because I know what she's capable of, and now that she has a name...fuck!
My hand instinctively goes to my phone, and I text Stefan to find out if she's okay even though I spoke with him ten minutes ago.
"Stop acting like a lovesick puppy, son. She'll smell your weakness from a mile away, and you know better than anyone how she'll exploit that."
Oh, I know. When I lunged at dear mother with a blade, she made me watch my own sister get raped by one of her soldiers.
My stomach revolts at the thought that something similar could happen to Roxanne, but no. Back then I had no power. No one loyal to me.
"I heard she's planning a visit here," he continues.
"You think she'd dare leave the security of home?" I ask, surprised.
"She's desperate, Damien. The vote is tight, and you're a man. No matter how many secrets she keeps in her pocket, the organization is still conservative, and a woman will always be beneath a man."
That's been the only blessing. The fact that the entire Council is full of misogynists who wouldn't put a woman in charge unless that woman held a blade pointed at their balls. Which my dear mother has done too many times. That's why she's still alive.
"I secured Tsarkov's vote for you," he says, and I sense there's something there.
"What does he want in return?"
"An alliance through marriage," he replies, examining his fingernails.
Eyes narrowed at him, I say, "I'm pretty sure polygamy isn't allowed here, and even if it were, Roxanne would make sure that woman was marrying a corpse, because that's what I'd be if I mentioned taking a second wife."
Sarin's laughter echoes throughout the room.
"I can't wait to meet her. Sounds like the kind of woman you need."
"She is." And I know he sees the pride in my eyes.
"I'm happy for you, son. Now, regarding the marriage, your right hand would be a good alternative for Tsarkov's daughter."
I think about Vasili and the look full of murderous promises he had when he looked at the man who hurt Gigi, and I know there are feelings there.
"I'll discuss it. That's all I'm offering."
With a single nod, he stands up, and I notice him sway slightly.
"You okay, old man?"
"I don't have a young wife to keep me on my toes anymore," he replies, but I know there's something more, and from the look I give him, he knows to stop with the jokes now.
After he straightens up and takes a breath, he says, "I have cancer. Terminal, pancreatic, so not exactly pleasant, but I'll hold on until you're reelected."
A wave of emotions pierces my chest like a blade because there aren't many people I respect, but the man in front of me is at the top of my list. He's the one who taught me patience.
He was the first person I told about my rage episodes.
He's the one who made sure nobody would touch Berna while I wasn't there.
He stood up for me before the Council when I was only seventeen.
He saw past the jokes and this hollow shell and gave me a chance. A purpose.
"Stop looking at me like I'm already dead. Don’t go all sentimental on me, son.”
"If you need anything, just tell me," I say without a trace of amusement.
I'm used to loss, to the idea that none of us have tomorrow guaranteed, but I still find myself wrapped in a miserable state at the thought that I won't have him by my side in the coming years.
"Be happy, Damien. That's all I've wanted. That's all your father would have wanted, too, even though the bastard didn't know how to show you."
He didn't know. Because he was a pathetic excuse for a father and a man.
He let his own daughter be abused. He stood still while his own woman sold herself for power.
And he certainly didn't lift a finger when I had to recite every type of tissue and muscle while peeling them off the bones of our enemies.
But now I have a shot at that happiness Sarin mentioned, and she has dark chestnut hair and caramel eyes, and I'll make damn sure to burn anyone who tries to rip her from my arms.
After Sarin leaves the office, I text Stefan to bring this Stiles asshole to the basement after he drops Roxy home.
The unsettling news from the only man who represented a father figure to me has awakened my bloodlust again.