Chapter 23 – Dimitri
The meeting room feels like it’s burning.
Every one of my brothers is here—Roman at the head of the table, arms crossed; Lev pacing like a caged wolf; Adrian silent and calculating; Niko and Kaz watching me with worry they don’t bother to hide; Lukin leaning forward, eyes cold.
And all of them angry.
The projector hums softly as the encrypted message glows on the wall behind me:
The mother has been moved.
Next, the bride.
Maps, hacked surveillance clips, and encrypted call logs litter the table, a chaos of data and danger. Everyone is talking at once—strategies, theories, threats—but underneath it all, I feel the pulse of one thing:
Fear.
My fear.
For Vivian.
Lukin slams a folder down, voice clipped. “This message confirms Deveraux has her mother. He’s using her as leverage. He wants Vivian scared. He wants you unstable.”
My jaw flexes hard enough to crack. “He wants a war,” I say.
Roman nods, jaw tight. “He already started one.”
Lev swears under his breath, fingers dragging through his hair. “This isn’t just about the Rusnaks anymore. He’s pulling old families together—Kovals, Swiss syndicates, remnants of the London circle. He’s building something offshore. Something coordinated.”
Adrian finally speaks, voice smooth but edged with steel. “Zurich is the center. That’s where the accounts route, where the medical transfer was authorized, where his ghost companies originate. We cut him off there.”
Kaz leans back in his chair and gives me a long, assessing look. “But you already knew that. You’ve been planning something.”
He’s not wrong.
I rise from my seat slowly.
And for the first time in years—since the old London days, since I buried the part of myself that terrified even my brothers—I let the Ice Prince surface.
The temperature in the room drops.
My voice is quiet, but lethal.
“We end this in Zurich. No negotiations.”
Silence settles—heavy, absolute.
The room falls silent—thick, unmoving, electric.
Lukin clears his throat first. “How, Dimitri? You can’t just storm in. Swiss authorities are watching every Rusnak financial movement. One wrong step and Interpol will have all our names lit up on their boards. If you go in guns blazing, it’ll blow up in all our faces.”
I grit my teeth but don’t speak. I already know he’s right.
Roman leans back in his chair, fingers steepled.
“Deveraux is hosting a private luncheon in Zurich tomorrow. High-profile bankers, old-money families, shadow players. He thinks he’s untouchable.
” He pauses. “I can get you in under an alias. But only if you can make it to Zurich by tomorrow afternoon. And—it’s a couples’ event. You’ll need a date.”
I don’t hesitate. “I can manage that. Everything I need to travel is ready.”
Roman rises, grabbing his coat. “Then excuse me. I’ll prep the invitations and scrub the alias. It’ll take some time.”
He leaves the room with a sharp nod.
The moment he’s gone, Niko angles his head at me. “So who are you taking? Vivian?”
“No.” The answer comes out too quickly, too hard. I force my jaw to unclench. “I don’t want her involved in the grit. Not this part. She stays out of Zurich.”
Niko nods slowly, reading everything I’m not saying—how close the danger is, how personal it’s getting.
I stand. “If there’s nothing else, I need to get ready for travel.”
Lukin steps forward and clasps my shoulder. “Good hunting, brother. And if you need anything—anything—you call.”
I nod once. “I will.”
Then I leave the room, the decision already burning through my veins.
Zurich is waiting. And so is Deveraux.
***
As soon as I step out of the elevator into the penthouse, my mind is already three steps ahead. I find Sylvester in the hallway, clipboard in hand, always prepared.
“Get everything ready,” I tell him. “We’re flying to Zurich tonight. Call the family captain and have the jet fueled within the hour.”
Sylvester doesn’t blink. He nods once. “Yes, sir.”
I don’t waste another second.
I go straight to find Vivian.
She’s standing by the window, wrapped in one of my shirts, the sleeves swallowing her wrists. Her bare legs catch the soft light, but her face—her face is pale, tight, bracing for something she already senses is bad.
When she hears me enter, she turns sharply.
“Where have you been?”
“With my brothers,” I answer. “A meeting.”
“And?” Her voice is steady, but there’s fear beneath it. “What was the conclusion?”
“I’m going to Zurich.”
I cross the room, stopping a few feet from her.
“Deveraux has probably moved your mother there. He’s using her to bait you.
I’ll go find them. Tomorrow he’s hosting a private luncheon in Zurich.
Roman promised he can get me in under an alias, but I must have a date.
If I attend, I’ll have a chance to get close. To end this.”
She folds her arms tightly across her chest, chin lifting. “Am I coming with you?”
“Of course not.”
Her arms drop, her eyes widen, and then: “So you want me to sit here while you go on a date with another woman?”
I stop. Completely.
Eyes locked on hers.
Her accusation hangs in the air like smoke.
“A date?” I repeat, stunned.
“Yes, Dimitri.” Her voice rises. “Roman said you need a date. So what—someone else gets to hang on your arm while you fight for my mother? While I stay here pretending everything is fine?”
She’s jealous?
The laugh almost slips—almost—but she’s looking at me like she wants to drive a knife straight through my ribs, so I keep my expression perfectly blank.
“Vivian, it’ll mean nothing,” I say evenly. “Just some contracted woman.”
“The same way you contracted me,” she fires back. “She’ll hang on your arm, pretend to kiss you, touch you, to make it believable. Is that it?”
“Vivian—”
“I’m coming with you,” she declares, stepping forward, eyes blazing. “I get to be your only date. If I don’t come, then forget the plan. You’re not going.”
“But I can’t forget it, Vivian,” I grit out. “It’s the only plan that’ll work right now. And I promise—whoever I go with won’t even get close enough to do all the things you just said.”
She nods slowly.
I think she’s yielding.
I actually feel relieved.
Until she smiles—sweet, poisonous.
“Well,” she says lightly, “as soon as you leave, I’ll find a contracted man and go on a date with him since my husband is unavailable. I promise I won’t let him touch me or kiss me. But if I feel particularly in the mood….” She shrugs. “I may let him fuck me.”
“Vivian!”
The word tears out of me. Jealousy surges hot and acidic through my veins, raw enough to burn.
She lifts her chin, glaring. “What?”
I step toward her, pulse pounding like war drums.
“Don’t play games with me,” I say, voice low, dangerous. “You have no idea what you’re provoking right now.”
Her eyes flash. “Then don’t provoke me first.”
Silence stretches—charged, electric, almost violent.
I breathe once.
Twice.
Trying to find equilibrium I no longer possess.
“Vivian,” I say, quieter now, “no man touches you. No man kisses you. No man even looks at you that way.”
She folds her arms. “Then don’t send another woman to play your date, Dimitri.”
My jaw ticks. “You want to come with me?”
“Yes.”
“Fine,” I say at last, the word rougher than it should be. “Then you’re coming to Zurich.”
Her breath catches—but she masks it quickly.
I step so close our foreheads almost touch.
“But understand something,” I murmur. “If you’re mine on my arm…you’re mine everywhere else too.”
She swallows, eyes flickering with a heat she tries to hide. “I’ve always been yours, Dimitri.”
Something in me snaps.
I grab her face and crash my mouth onto hers, kissing her with every ounce of the irritation, jealousy, and hunger she managed to ignite in me. She melts into it instantly, clutching my shirt, kissing me back with equal fire.
When I pull away, we’re both breathless.
“But you stay beside me,” I growl. “You do only what I approve. Nothing else. You hear me?”
“Yes,” she whispers, defiant and obedient all at once.
And I hate how much that combination destroys me.
I know this is wrong.
I know I shouldn’t take her with me.
Zurich is a battlefield waiting to happen, not a place for her.
But I’ll be damned if I leave her in New York after hearing her threaten to go out with another man—contracted or not. The thought alone is enough to unravel every thread of restraint I have left.
I cup her jaw again, gentler this time.
“You stay with me,” I murmur. “Always.”
Because even if it’s reckless…I’m not letting her out of my sight.
***
That night, we fly out together—against every instinct I’ve honed, against every rule I’ve lived by.
The Rusnak jet cuts through the clouds like a blade, humming with quiet luxury and danger.
Vivian sits across from me, strapped in, wearing one of my jackets because she claimed the cabin was cold. She’s lying—she just likes my scent close.
Sylvester is beside us, laptop open, a map of Zurich glowing blue across the cabin.
I force myself to focus.
“Sebastian secured the building,” Sylvester reports, tapping the screen. “Directly opposite Deveraux’s banking headquarters. Windows facing each other. Clear line of sight.”
“What about access?” I ask.
“We’ll use the service tunnels beneath Bahnhofstrasse. Old maintenance routes—no cameras, no patrols. I can infiltrate the building through there.”
I nod. Clean. Efficient. Exactly what we need.
Vivian leans forward. “And us?”
I meet her eyes. Steady. Composed. Determined in a way that both reassures me and terrifies me.
“You and I go in through the front,” I say. “As a couple looking to invest. Roman’s alias gets us onto the guest list. Once inside, we blend in and move toward the restricted wing.”
Vivian crosses her arms, brows raised. “So…I’m your date.”
The smallest smirk pulls at my mouth. “You insisted.”
She tries—fails—not to smile.
Sylvester clears his throat. “You two also need a cover story. You’re newly engaged, from a private family office in Monaco. She handles auditing, you handle acquisitions.”
Vivian nods sharply. “Fine. What about exits?”
“Three options,” Sylvester says. “Front doors if everything stays clean. Service corridor if it doesn’t. And rooftop extraction if it all goes to hell.”
I glance at her again.
“Nothing is going to go to hell,” I say, mostly for her benefit.
Her gaze holds mine, unwavering.
“You can’t promise that,” she whispers.
I reach across the table and take her hand, sliding my thumb over her pulse.
“No,” I admit. “But I can promise I won’t let anything touch you.”
Her breath hitches.
Sylvester politely pretends not to notice.
We turn back to the maps, but tension curls between us like a live wire.
Tomorrow, we walk into the lion’s den together.
And the bastard we’re hunting….
He won’t see us coming.