Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
ARMAN
I glance at the text with a level of disinterest that surpasses my usual irritation.
Luka
Mission accomplished.
I huff with frustration as I lean back in my seat and glance out of the window at the sidewalk below.
The people scurrying along it may as well be ants, and as I glance at my watch it’s as if the world is closing in on me.
Kidnap.
Not what I usually endeavor to do each day, but this particular crime was thrust upon me with hardly any notice.
My thoughts briefly touch on the woman who has fallen into my web and then they leave almost as quickly.
I don’t have time to reward the curiosity that is edging aside the real reason I’m here.
Business.
It’s always business and it always will be.
The door opens and I already know who will push through it. There is only one man who is excused from knocking and it belongs to my right hand. Luka.
His expression gives nothing away as he takes the seat before my desk and leans back, fixing me with a blank expression, waiting for me to speak.
“Where is she?”
“The home in the Hamptons.”
“Risky.”
I arch my brow and he shrugs. “I didn’t say which one.”
It causes me to smile briefly because Luka is a cunning son of a bitch and, knowing him, our captive could be in any one of them.
“We have work to do.” I reply simply and he nods as I turn my attention to the screen and say as an aside. “Nikolai Barinov?”
“Currently in a hire car a few miles from JFK.”
“Heading?”
“City center.”
I glance in his direction and he smirks.
“Sasha and Orel are tailing him. We will follow his movements courtesy of the tracking devise we installed in the car before he collected it. ”
“Sloppy.”
It surprises me that Nikolai wasn’t more careful, and Luka nods. “Either sloppy, or he doesn’t realize we are catching up.”
“Or he is here for another reason, perhaps.”
I lean back and frown. “Whatever his reason is for coming to New York, we must remain on our guard. Nikolai doesn’t venture out of Russia often and so whatever brings him here is extremely important. Titus is working on possible leads, and our job is to protect our guest.”
The alarm on my phone cuts through our conversation and I groan.
“Fuck. Business calls. I’ll leave you to work on this unexpected predicament while I meet with Travis Garcia.”
Luka nods and as I reach for my jacket, he prepares to take my place at the computer.
As I head to the boardroom, I push all thoughts of Gabrielle Adams firmly out of my mind. I didn’t ask to be involved in this side of my family business and the sooner we deal with the situation, the happier I’ll be.
She is already an irritant that I wish I could scratch and move onto the real reason I’m in New York.
Since my father’s death, the markets have been uneasy because the Romanov dynasty is a formidable power to fall. As the man in charge of our international business efforts, it is up to me to steady the ship and placate the nervous shareholders, and Travis Garcia is the man I need to convince.
He heads up one of the largest investment banks in the world and our business dealings are frequent. I rely on him for information and he relies on me for investment.
As I reach the boardroom, I don’t hesitate and head inside, knowing I am five minutes earlier than planned for a very good reason.
I always am. It places my meetings under my control and gives me an edge over my opponent. They are all considered opponents because when the Romanovs do business, it’s considered a battle. One we always win, but the way things are shaping up lately, we are about to go to war.
Five minutes and ten seconds later, the door opens and Travis walks in, unusually alone, causing my heart to sink.
This doesn’t look good.
I stand and offer him my hand and as he grasps it, he won’t meet my eye.
Once again, that is unusual and speaks volumes, way more than words.
As we take our respective seats, he inches his finger under his shirt collar as if needing the air.
“Arman.”
His voice shakes and I say nothing as he looks anywhere but into my eyes.
“The Vander-Williams have withdrawn their support.”
I say nothing and wait for him to elaborate and he glances at his watch as if he wishes time would move faster.
“Along with the Wilsons. The Johnsons and the Montagues.”
Fuck! This is worse than I thought because those names belong to extremely powerful families that are responsible for half of our investments.
He carries on. “Russian business is considered dirty business. I’m sure you understand the reasons why.”
“Why now?”
My voice scratches in the air, and he visibly winces.
I lean forward. “Why now, when the current situation has been the current situation for two fucking years already? Answer me, Travis. ”
My voice is wrapped in steel, and I am briefly distracted by the bead of sweat that trails down the side of his cheek.
“Your father’s passing.” He replies simply, and I lean back.
“What of it?”
He shrugs. “They knew Andrei, and they trusted him. He was one of them. Your brother is–well, he’s not.”
I say nothing, but the fury inside me threatens to implode, and he says quickly, “There may be a way to gain their trust.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well, um, it’s a little left field but well, your father was a member of a certain club they, um, we, are all involved in. A kind of gentleman’s club where deals are made and cemented before the evening really begins.”
“You are speaking of Burning Roses.”
He appears shocked that I know of it and edges on his seat and nods. “Yes. Call it a gentleman’s club. A place where there are no agendas, just business followed by pleasure. Trust is earned through membership and the members look after their own because secrecy is valued as the highest commodity, more than any signature on a business contract.”
I say nothing and for the first time, he raises his eyes to mine and says in a whisper, “You must become a member before they will consider investing. Your father was a trusted friend and you need to earn that trust.”
“What do I have to do?” I maintain my composure, but inwardly I am fuming. I understand exactly what that organization involves and now I know why my father frequented their parties. Business. It was always business and if anything, it makes me feel better knowing that was his reason for going there.
My brothers discovered he attended four parties every year and was always with the same escort. Veronica Scott–Stanley. His mistress, if you like. My brother, Valentin, tracked down her niece when we learned Veronica had suffered a tragic accident and with her help, they uncovered a secret that is so catastrophic for our country it’s almost unbelievable. My job is to wrap this up and to discover why our government’s assassin is a few steps ahead of us and interested in our business. If they ordered the hit on our father, it is probably connected to this club.
“I’ve arranged your attendance at the next gathering.” Travis says quickly, his voice returning to the practical one I usually expect to hear.
“Tomorrow night they are attending a house in Tribeca for a social evening. The venue is Eglantine House, and you will be required to attend with an escort.”
Fuck! I am raging inside because this is the last thing I want to do with my time, but I understand our continued success is riding on my involvement with this organization and so I remain silent.
He says with more confidence. “This is the perfect way to ensure your investments remain. Reassure the members, join their ranks and network your way out of trouble. You may even have fun while you’re doing it.”
The suggestive wink that accompanies his words makes my skin crawl because I am only too aware of what is involved. My brother Mikhail discovered the organization behind the parties is called Burning Roses, and the women they provide are paid whores. They are not parties in the usual sense of the word, they are full-blown fucking orgies and if I am to gain any credibility with these men, I must prove I’m as depraved as they are.
If anything, it reassures me because now I know why my father insisted on only one woman to accompany him. He was firm that he wouldn’t share, and they left before the evening turned to debauchery. I have my example and I intend on following in his footsteps because the last thing I want to do with my evening is fuck endless whores just to earn membership to a fucking club.