Chapter 2
I paid a pretty penny for Genesis.
Nah, I paid a pretty five hundred thousand dollars for her.
She’d better prove her worth.
Given my line of work, I’m not a man who makes lousy bets or poor financial decisions. I benefit from every investment, no matter fucking what.
Legit deals, illegal ventures with criminals—I’m always the winner.
The three Russians scowl as I walk past them, deeper into Carlisle’s office.
Dima closes his hand around his AK-47’s handle.
I smirk at him.
I fucking dare you .
“Read this.” I smack a contract against Dima’s chest. “I’m sure you know your father’s signature.”
Dima lowers the gun to stop the contract from falling to the floor.
Outbidding and outsmarting men is my favorite pastime.
That's exactly what I did tonight.
May this be a lesson learned for Dima.
As he reads the contract, I approach Carlisle’s desk. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in his office. Carlisle sold me and others who’d pay top dollar for insider trading.
Speaking of Carlisle …
He’s seated in his chair, dead as a fucking doornail.
His soul delivered to hell.
I’ve staged enough murders into suicides that I know the wound was self-inflicted. I wish he’d waited until I arrived to pull the trigger. I’d have gladly done it for him.
My attention shifts from his dead body to Genesis.
She’s far more entertaining as she grips the bookshelf as if preparing for an earthquake. I can’t help but chuckle when I notice the family photo behind her.
All smiles from the parents who sold her out.
Nine times out of ten, greed prevails over bloodlines. Loyalty is the hardest heirloom to keep in this world.
Her eyes are wide, and the hand gripping the bookshelf shakes. She’s in a room full of cold-blooded killers. With me at the front of the line.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Dima’s still reading the contract. Either he’s illiterate or in shock that his father would make a deal that undermined him.
“He went behind my back,” Dima hisses before shoving the contract into his blazer pocket and narrowing his eyes at me. “ You went behind my back.”
I scoff.
The idiot believes I owe him loyalty?
He could be in the direct line of a moving train, and I wouldn’t offer him a helping hand. I’d push him further in front of it.
I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Nah, I’m just a better businessman, Dima.”
All eyes are on me when I grab Carlisle’s lit cigar from the ashtray. I brush off the tip and offer it to Dima. He waves his hand through the air in disdain.
In his world, only one man can disrespect him. Yaroslav Morozova, his father, a notorious Bratva boss. Dima is next in line to take over the boss position.
I extend the cigar to the man on Dima’s right. He shakes his head.
The other, who I know as Kuzma, bites.
Not that I blame the man who’s merely a soldier.
It’s a Cohiba Behike cigar.
Expensive and, since they’re illegal in the States, extremely rare to find.
If Carlisle’s slobbery, repulsive lips hadn’t touched it, I’d keep it for myself.
The moment Kuzma accepts the cigar, Dima curses and snatches it from him. He flips Kuzma’s palm to snuff the cigar into it. Kuzma howls in pain, attempting to tug away from him. Dima adds more pressure.
I roll my eyes in boredom.
Cigar burns are child’s play.
Yaroslav should train his men to torture better. Dima should’ve at least gone for one of the eyes.
A burned retina is a great method to get your point across.
Smirking, I remember the last time I seared a man’s retina. I didn’t know if it would have blinded him since I put a bullet through his head three hours later.
“You don’t take anything unless I tell you,” Dima snarls at Kuzma.
Grinning, I divide my attention between their show and Genesis. She watches in horror as Dima instructs the other man to hold Kuzma down. Dima kneels beside him, opens his mouth, and shoves the cigar against his tongue.
I guess I underestimated the Russian son.
I offer him a mocking clap for his authority.
Forgetting about Dima’s show of dominance, I notice Genesis tiptoeing toward the door and move in her direction. She stops when I nudge Carlisle’s chair out of my way. His body slumps to the floor, and I step over it.
What a shame.
Carlisle had great potential had he not been such a selfish fuck.
“Genesis, get over here,” I demand, snapping my fingers and pointing in front of me.
She crosses her arms and shakes her head.
I glare at her.
She needs to know I don’t take kindly to disobedience.
Especially right now, when my annoyance level is at a maximum. I spent the past hour negotiating with Yaroslav. The Russians are a fucking headache to work deals with.
I shove my hand into my pocket and extract a switchblade. “For every second you make me count, I’ll cut one of your pretty fingers off.”
She doesn’t move.
“One.” I hold the switchblade out to inspect it. “We’ll count that as your thumb.”
She stubbornly shuffles my way, her deep chocolate-brown eyes meeting mine.
Genesis is drop-dead gorgeous.
She’s also been off-limits to me for years.
But now? She’s mine.
When she’s within my reach, I snatch her wrist and tug her into my chest. For her earlier disobedience, I plunge my hand through her brown hair, tugging her head back. She hisses in pain.
“Fun is over,” I announce to the room, motioning to the doorway and loosening my hold on Genesis’s hair.
“Wait,” she says. “We need to call for help.”
“Help?” Dima scoffs. “For what?”
“My father,” she hisses.
“He’s already dead,” I tell her. “Doubt he’ll resurrect.” What little slack I gave her hair, I take back. “Argue with me, and I’ll test whether you resurrect after I kill you.”
She slams her pretty mouth shut.
We follow the Russians from the office and through the foyer of Genesis’s childhood home. We walk outside into the evening air, and she gasps when her eyes land on the two dead men on the entrance stairs.
Carlisle hired himself a few bodyguards.
Idiot found them on Yelp, as if searching for where to find the best chili dog.
They might’ve had a five-star rating for protecting some mid-level politician, but their expertise could never match those of crazy Russians in need of a bride.
Those men love contractual marriages and take them seriously.
“Sixty days,” Dima says, referring to the contract as we walk toward our vehicles.
I open the passenger door of my black Escalade. “When it comes to money, I always hold my end of the deal.”
He points at Genesis. “Not one fucking minute later, or she’s mine.”
Genesis whips her gaze to me in confusion.
“If that time comes and I don’t have what I want, she’s all yours to do with as you please,” I reply before shoving Genesis into the passenger seat.
She stares at me in shock, and I can tell a million questions are floating in her head that she’s too afraid to ask.
Good. I want her afraid.
“We’ll be in touch,” Dima says before sliding into his black Rolls-Royce, along with his men.
I nod, open the back door to grab a towel, and toss it at Genesis before slipping behind the steering wheel. “Wipe yourself off. I don’t want a speck of blood on that seat.”
“I need to get my phone from my car and call for help,” she says, wiping the blood off her hands.
“You need to do what I tell you to do.” I shut the door.
“Fine, can you tell me to get my phone out of my car to call for help then?”
“No.” I shift the Escalade into drive and slam on the gas pedal.
“What the hell, Julian?” she asks as we surge forward. “Who were those men? Why were they there? Why were you there?”
I ignore her, driving through the iron gates of the property.
“Julian,” she says, raising her voice, “answer me.”
“Sit there and shut the fuck up. I’ll explain later.”
“Excuse me?” She smacks my arm with the towel. “Don’t talk to me like that.”
Now that the Russians aren’t here, she’s grown some balls, stupidly believing I won’t hurt her.
“Don’t test me, Genesis,” I warn.
“Don’t test me,” she mocks my words, sounding too smug for my liking. “I’ll test you until I get answers, Julian.”
I swerve to the side of the road, put the Escalade in park, and snarl at her, “Genesis, you’ve seen the semi-nice side of me a few times—I’ll give you that.
” I stretch across the console to get in her face.
“You’re also aware there’s more evil inside me than nice.
You keep running your mouth, and I’ll prove it to you. ”
“I’ve never seen the nice side of you,” she argues. “I only saw the nice side of your mother and Mel ?—”
Before she can finish her sentence, I clamp my hand over her mouth and get in her face more. She whips her head to the side, squirming to break free, and I creep closer to pin her to the door. I don’t stop until my lips are inches from my hand on her mouth.
“You keep running that smart mouth, and you’ll never see a side of me that isn’t deranged again,” I caution.
She narrows her eyes at me but stops resisting.
“Nod your head to confirm you’ll shut the fuck up.”
She slowly nods, and I feel her tongue graze my palm.
I pull back when my phone rings. As I dig it from my pocket, she runs a finger along her lips.
I relax in my seat as Derrick’s name flashes on my phone screen.
Derrick is a Fed and also my informant, feeding me insider knowledge.
“Talk,” I answer.
“Feds are headed to both places now,” he informs. “Twenty minutes until they reach the Astor estate and thirty before they hit your girl’s penthouse.”
“Shit,” I hiss, veering back onto the road.
The fucking Russians took too long making a deal with me.
I glance at Genesis while speeding down the road. “You’re homeless now. If you want anything from your place that can be retrieved in five minutes and fit inside a single bag, you’d better rattle it off right now.”
She blinks at me. “What are you talking about?”
“List your shit or get nothing.”
She places her hand on the middle console. “I’m … confused.”
“You get nothing then.” I end the call.