Chapter 4 #2
Then a number caught my eye. "This entry from last week doesn't match the internal records. Who was managing operations?"
"Oleg." Dmitri checked the schedule. "Looks like we've got a rat. Three hundred grand. He's been eating well."
"Let's go."
Dmitri knew what that meant. I never let betrayal slide.
By the time we got to the casino, I'd already decided how this would go. Oleg was an old hand. I'd given him authority, trust. And he repaid me by stealing.
When I walked in, the customers didn't notice. But the staff froze. They lined up outside the office, waiting.
"Oleg."
I didn't raise my voice. He still flinched.
He stepped forward. Mid-forties, thinning hair. Sweat was already beading on his face. He tried to smile.
I didn't smile back.
"Mr. Volkov. You came yourself."
"The three hundred thousand from last week. Where'd it go?"
His smile died. "Three hundred... which one? We had a lot of transactions. Let me check—"
"You don't need to check." I tapped the desk once. "Look at me and answer."
His eyes darted away. "I-I'm not sure which one you mean."
"Oleg." My voice stayed soft. "How long have you worked for me?"
"Five years."
"Five years. Started in the docks, bookkeeping. I promoted you all the way to this seat." I pulled the report from the folder and set it on the desk. "Three hundred thousand. Pocket change to me. But you know what? Nobody steals from Volkov."
His breathing quickened.
"Your youngest is in private school, right? Expensive. Your wife just bought a new car." I leaned forward slightly. "Why do you think that is?"
He dropped to his knees. "Mr. Volkov... I was just borrowing it. I swear, I was going to pay it back. Next week. Next week, I'll—"
"There is no next week."
He started crying. Snot and tears smeared his face.
Dmitri stepped forward and pulled a suppressed pistol from his waistband.
"Outside."
Dmitri grabbed Oleg by the collar and dragged him toward the back door. Oleg's legs kicked uselessly. He was babbling something—probably begging.
I didn't look. I closed the folder and picked up my coat.
I scanned the remaining staff. Every head was down. They got the message. No one else would try me.
I headed for the door. Behind me, a muffled pop. Barely audible through the walls.
I didn't stop walking.
Back in the car, I closed my eyes and leaned against the seat. My phone buzzed. Lilith's file.
"Lilith Sanchez. Twenty-two. Parents died in a car accident eighteen years ago. Raised by her older sister, Elena, who has a heart condition and receives long-term care at St. Mary Hospital. Last admission: three weeks ago."
I flipped to her ID photo. Hair in a high ponytail, no makeup, pure smile, bright eyes. A little baby fat still in her cheeks.
I thought of her last night. Something shifted in my chest.
Interesting.
Back at the manor, I poured myself champagne. Traitors exhausted me. I couldn't tolerate betrayal. No matter how close someone was, once they crossed that line, every shred of warmth turned to ash. Just like with my ex-wife, Marinda.
The cold bubbles slid down my throat. I pushed the thought away.
Lilith filled my mind instead. Angel and devil wrapped in one. Her defiance. Her sensuality. I couldn't shake her.
And she'd left without a word.
Over the next few days, I was buried in business. Everyone could tell I was in a foul mood. Except Pavel. That idiot kept pushing Ivan's marriage agenda, even recommending Rebecca. I was sick of it. But what could I do? He was one of my own.
Days passed. I still couldn't get Lilith's tears—or her smile—out of my head.
I stared at my dark phone screen. Finally, I picked it up and dialed the driver.
"Get the car ready."
"Yes, sir. Where to?"
"Sunset Park."
The moment I said it, the knot in my chest loosened.
The driver got me there fast. The closer we got, the more I felt it—anticipation. Something unfamiliar.
I wanted to see her face when she realized I'd come for her.
We pulled up outside her building. Six floors, old. Two of the streetlights were out. One flickered weakly.
A few teenagers were smoking outside a convenience store. They whistled when they saw the car. Then I stepped out.
The whistling stopped. I looked at them once. They backed into the store.
I found her door. The paint was peeling, rusted metal showing underneath. I frowned.
I knocked. Light footsteps inside, quick. A lock turned.
The door opened.
"Hi... uh, Mr. Volkov."
Her mouth fell open. She stood there in a faded blue hoodie and black sweatpants, hair loose, holding a plastic bag with bread and milk. Embarrassment flickered across her face. "You... Why did you—"
"You going to let me in?"
"Of course, I just... It's really small here, I'm afraid—"
I stepped in, my arm around her shoulders before she could finish.
Her eyes went wide. She opened her mouth, closed it, then pinched her own cheek like she was checking if this was real.
That little gesture made me smile.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
"What do you think? You can't sleep with me and then run off."
She froze in my arms. "What? But I couldn't face you. I felt like I did something wrong." She covered her face.
"Wrong? You regret sleeping with me?" My voice hardened. Anger flared in my gut.
"I'm sorry... I was so ashamed. It was a mistake.
I was drunk that night. I shouldn't have come on to you.
I'm your son's ex-girlfriend, and he was right—I'm not pretty enough, I'm not smart—" She twisted her fingers together, knuckles white.
"Maybe once you sober up, you'll realize that night was... humiliating for you."
So that's why she ran.
I grabbed her wrist, forcing her to look at me. "Lilith. I was sober. And if you hadn't snuck out that morning, I would've fucked you again. I would've made you beg. Made you regret ever comparing me to that little bastard Luca."
"In fact, we can still do that. Right now."
Her face went scarlet. Maybe my look was too intense, because she trembled and went soft against me. She wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts pressed against me through the hoodie, like she was just waiting for me to take her.
I wedged my knee between her legs. One hand cupped the back of her head, the other gripped her waist. I kissed her hard, tongue pushing past her teeth, and slipped my hand under her hoodie. I found her nipple. Already hard. I brushed over it.
"Mmm... Andrei... no..." She was breathing hard, her moans the best kind of fuel.
"Did you get wet, princess?" I stopped kissing her but kept my hands moving. Her breasts filled my palms. "Tell me the truth."
I pushed her down onto her narrow bed. Her face was flushed, lips swollen from my kiss, breath uneven, soft gasps escaping.
She wouldn't look at me. Lips pressed tight. But her body didn't lie. I chuckled. Her leg trembled against my knee. Finally, under my gaze, she looked up at me—those beautiful eyes glazed with moisture—and nodded shyly.
"Then we continue?"
She flinched like a startled rabbit, scooting back. Fear crept into her expression. "No. Not here. Please."
"Give me a reason."
"I don't want a man's scent left in my home. After he leaves, I'll be alone again, surrounded by memories. This is the only place that's just mine and my sister's. I don't want anyone to change it." Her voice cracked, and something twisted in my chest. Abandonment had scarred her.
I finally looked around. The room was tiny but spotless. The sheets were worn thin from washing. A stack of cookbooks sat on the nightstand.
The whole space had this quality—modest, clean, barely holding onto dignity.
I realized what kind of girl she was. Living under poverty and pressure but still keeping herself together, kind, and somehow innocent.
I couldn't take her here. She didn't belong in this cramped little room. She should be in a big bed, treated like a princess. And I couldn't force her. That wasn't how the Pakhan of the Volkovs did things.
Right then, I made my decision.
If I had to marry someone to shut those old bastards up, why not her?
I wanted Lilith to marry me. Right now.
While she looked at me with worry, I stood and straightened her hoodie. "Listen, Lilith. I'm not like Luca. I don't go back on my word." I spoke slowly, deliberately. "If you become my woman, I won't abandon you. I won't treat you like shit."
Unless she betrayed me. But I didn't say that.
Lilith stared at me, still sitting on the bed. "What? What are you saying?" Then her expression shifted—hurt mixed with anger. She shoved me hard. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Enough! Luca made a bet to court me, to be my boyfriend. And now you—his father—you made some bet too, didn't you? To make me your mistress? I'm not your toy!"
Her anger blindsided me. Luca had hurt her so deeply she was lashing out on instinct. If he weren't my son, I'd throw him back in the goddamn furnace and start over.
"Lilith. Not a mistress." I steadied her trembling shoulders. Looked her dead in the eye. "Lilith. I want you to marry me."
"Be my wife. Luca's stepmother. It's the best revenge you could ever get."