Chapter 11 - Anton
Things only go smoothly for a certain amount of time before reality comes to bite you in the ass all over again.
Sitting at my desk in my office in town, I have my head in one hand and my phone pressed against my ear.
“Last night? What time?” I ask gruffly.
“Around four in the morning, so just as the guys were about to do shift change. It was very strategic. They knew they would be tired at the end of the night shift, and the new guards hadn’t arrived yet. They attacked at the perfect time.”
“Fucking Illyin, or Josiah. They must have found out I have her,” I groan, thinking out loud. “They’re obviously targeting my operations now as a warmup, or revenge.”
“We don’t know that for sure,” Yaroslav says. “It could have been anyone.”
“I doubt it. It was only a matter of time before they worked it out. But you can start looking into it for me and let me know what you find. Maybe they left a clue somewhere,” I sigh.
Yaroslav agrees. “We already have the team scavenging through the rubble of the things they destroyed. I’m about to sit down and go through the security footage. If even one of those guys wasn’t covering their face, we can do facial recognition and trace them back to whoever sent them.”
“Good, yeah. Well, let me know. Do you need me down there?”
“Will do,” he says. “No, there’s nothing for you to do. It’s just a mess to clean up. It’s better if you stay out of sight. If it was Josiah, then this might be a plot to lure you out into the open. Let’s not take any chances.”
“Good point. Keep me in the loop. I’ll arrange additional security at both warehouses.”
Setting the phone down on my desk, I groan louder and push my fingers into my temples, attempting to massage away the migraine starting to threaten behind my eyes.
I’ve got too much work to do to be getting a migraine now.
And now, with the attack on my warehouse, I have another thing to worry about.
It has to be Josiah. It’s already taken him longer than I expected to find me.
I’ve been distracted though, not paying attention, not focused on the game of it all.
Distracted by her.
The moment I married her, it became all about her, and my concerns about Josiah became secondary. I should never have slacked off regarding him.
This was a brutal reminder.
If he’s in Detroit and messing with my business, then he knows where I am, and this is just him toying with me before he makes the real move.
For the rest of the morning, I go through every delivery and shipment I have coming in for the week and create a roster to hand over to Yaroslav so he can make sure the additional security guys are prepped and ready for each task.
It takes a few hours, but I don’t even notice time moving by, I’m so deep in work.
When my phone rings, it’s already past three in the afternoon, and I’m shocked to glimpse the time as I pick it up to answer.
“Yaroslav, tell me you’ve got news?”
“I do. And it wasn’t Josiah. It was Gusev. And get this: I also got feedback from the attack at the gallery the other day. It took a little longer, but it was the same team that attacked the warehouse. Gusev was behind both attacks.”
“Pavel Gusev!” I say in disbelief. “That little rat!”
“Word on the street is that he found out Josiah was after you and that you were lying low. He thought he'd take advantage of your weakness. That, and he possibly wanted to earn favor with Josiah if he could, who knows,” Yaroslav says.
Intense anger is itching inside me as my fingers grip tighter around the phone I’m holding. “So, he’s the one who tried to take Izabel?”
“Yes, sir. He sent his team to that gallery. They all know you have a new wife, but I’m not sure if he knows she’s actually Ilyin’s sister. He might not have been so rough with her if he’d known.”
“He threatened her. And he put her life in danger,” I snarl angrily.
“I know. We won’t let it happen again. We’re aware now,” Yaroslav tries to reassure me, but I’m too pissed off to listen to much of anything.
I end the call and stand up at my desk. There is no way that I will be able to work anymore. I have an urgent, tugging need to get back home to her. I want to see her and make sure she’s okay.
I can’t believe that asshole came after her because of a stupid idea that he could win favor with Josiah. But now I know who he is.
I’m used to mafia bullshit. Having my operations attacked isn’t shocking. It isn’t new to me. But in the past, it was different.
I don’t have siblings. I don’t have family. There is no one in my life that I’ve been responsible for. There is no one I needed or wanted to protect.
I’ve done everything on my own. My whole life, it’s just been me. All decisions were made for me. Everything I did, I did alone.
But that’s changed now.
Izabel. My wife. It’s not just a piece of paper. She is mine. She belongs to me, and I want and need her to be safe. I need to be the one to make sure she is safe.
And I almost failed.
It feels strange to be responsible for another person.
But I wouldn’t change it for the world.
Because it’s her.
At home, as I walk into the mansion, I smile.
It’s because opening the door sends a rush of the scent of sweet orange blossoms breezing over me.
I’m not sure when I started noticing it or when it became something I anticipated as I arrived, but I’m already taking a breath in as I open the door and half-closing my eyes in expectation of it.
The warmth of her scent fills my lungs and sets a current running through me.
“I’m back,” I shout as I push the door closed behind myself.
We had a very intense moment in the gym yesterday, and while I enjoyed the connection, she was awkward about it and made a very hasty escape midway through. Since then, I haven’t seen her. She stayed in her room last night, and this morning I left for work early.
On the way to work, I was contemplating how to break the ice between us again, and I came to the conclusion that pretending nothing happened and that everything was exactly the same as it was before was the best way to handle it.
So that’s what I’m doing right now.
Pausing after I call out, I cock my head to the side to listen for her response. It comes from downstairs in the living room area. “I’m in here,” she calls back. Sighing in relief that she doesn’t sound off or sassy, I head in that direction.
Izabel is curled up on the sofa right in front of the fire. Flames are licking at fresh logs she’s just tossed in.
It hasn’t snowed in the last couple of days, but it is still damn cold outside.
This scene is cozy and inviting, and for a moment, I envision myself climbing onto the sofa next to her and pulling her onto my lap to snuggle against her perfect little body and steal her warmth while I trace kisses over her neck and listen to her giggle because it’s ticklish.
“How was your day?” I ask instead.
“It’s been quiet. I’ve been drawing, and now I’m reading.”
“What did you draw?” I ask, walking closer and standing near the fire to let its heat radiate against my back.
She reaches for her iPad and flicks it on, then holds it out for me to take.
I stare down at the drawing on the screen.
Beautiful digital paint textures, intricate shadows and minute details that all make up the figure of a naked woman floating in a vast darkness with her hair billowing around her as though she’s weightless. Her skin looks creamy and soft, and her lips are painted delicate rose pink.
“It’s exquisite,” I say, zooming in to view some of the details. “Did you just start this today? What was your reference?” I ask.
“No reference, just scribbling from my memory. Yes, I started it this morning.” She speaks casually, dismissing my awe.
“You are seriously talented. Maybe I could convince you to do a piece for my walls?” I hand the iPad back to her, genuinely stunned by her talent. I’ve seen pieces of her work before, but to know how causally and easily she is able to create them is a surprise.
“My work, hanging next to the famous artists you have up now? I don’t think so,” she laughs lightheartedly.
“Never underestimate yourself, Izabel. Your work is worthy of being next to any artist.”
“I don’t know. I look at it and see errors. I just do it for fun.”
“I’m going to convince you to do a commission for me.”
“No, you won’t,” she laughs.
“Just wait. It’ll happen,” I chuckle.
“How was your day at work?” she asks, changing the subject.
For a moment I am torn. Do I tell her? Do I keep it from her? She is no stranger to the mafia world, but is this something I should burden her with?
“There was an incident,” I sigh, walking over to the bar and pouring myself whiskey. “Do you want one?” I ask, holding up the bottle.
“You can pour me a Frangelico, please,” she says. “What incident?”
“One of my warehouses was attacked.”
I finish pouring the drinks, not giving more details until I hand her the glass and then sit down next to her with my body turned towards her. She shifts to face me, too. Her forehead is creased with a frown.
“Is everyone okay?” she asks.
“Yes, it wasn’t a big attack. More of an annoyance than anything else.
The security team who was changing shift arrived ten or so minutes early, and I think they interrupted those assholes before they could do major damage.
But the reason it pissed me off so much is because Yaroslav managed to find out who was behind it. ”
I pause to sip my drink.
“Who was it?” she gasps, riveted.
“It was the same guy who tried to attack us and kidnap you from the gallery.”
Her mouth drops open. “Seriously?” she stammers. “That asshole is obviously pushing his luck. Is it someone you’ve had issues with before?”
“Pavel Gusev,” I say.
She scrunches her nose thoughtfully.
“I’ve never heard that name before.”
“It’s because he isn’t one of the big players. And he most certainly shouldn’t be cocky enough to be coming after me. But they caught wind of Josiah coming after me and assumed that I was weakened. Maybe I am, who knows.” I sigh and rub my hand over the back of my neck.
She is biting her lip, her eyes lowered, and her expression telling me she’s deep in thought.
I reach out and gently touch her arm, pulling her attention back to me.
“Don’t worry, Izabel. I promise you I can keep you safe. And I will. You don’t have to be afraid of anything,” I assure her.
She scoffs and shakes her head. “I’m not afraid. And I don’t need you to keep me safe. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thanks. I’ve been doing it for years. I happen to be very good at evading trouble.” She looks me up and down and smirks. “Mostly, anyway,” she adds reluctantly.
I grin.
“Then why do you look so worried?”
“Not worried, just thinking. Maybe we can try to set a trap for this Pavel guy?” Her eyes brighten.
“A trap?” I ask.
“Yes, we can lure him. Then you can catch him.”
“You can’t just lure people, it’s more complicated than that,” I chuckle.
“No, it’s really not. Seriously, I heard my brother’s security team talking about it before.
You figure out what your enemy wants. It could be anything.
Products, money, a person…who knows, everyone is different.
And then you set up a situation where it’s tempting enough to entice them out, but not so tempting that it’s too good to be true… .”
“I see, okay, yes, it doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” I say thoughtfully.
“So?”
“So?” I ask, still pondering what she’s said.
“What does Pavel Gusev want?” She asks, fully invested in this now.
“Well…he wants power. Uh….”
“What does he want from you?” she narrows down my thoughts.
“Okay, fine. The ultimate goal is power, but what does he need in order to get power? My products? It could weaken me or negatively affect my business. That would give him another opportunity to attack again and do more damage.”
“He tried to take me, remember. So, I think anything that pisses you off is fair game to him?”
“Mm,” I growl at the thought. “I’m not luring him with you, Izabel,” I snarl.
She giggles.
“Alright…then maybe a fake delivery. Word just happens to get out that it’s a high-stakes haul or something?”
“I like the sound of that,” I say.
We sit brainstorming in front of the fire for ages.
It becomes a sort of a game, and I pour us more drinks, and the evening rolls on in a relaxed, comfortable, and fun way.
She’s laughing as the ideas become more and more outlandish.
We end up ordering a snack platter for dinner, staying in front of the fire to enjoy it.
We move from the sofa to the floor, sitting relaxed on the fluffy, soft rug.
I don’t want the night to end, but of course, eventually it has to.
Izabel tries to hide a wide yawn behind her delicate fingers. Her eyes are watery when she looks at me. “I think I need to crawl into bed,” she smiles. “I’ve had a lot of fun,” she adds.
“Me too. I think we make a pretty good team,” I chuckle.
She shifts, still sitting, as she tries to wiggle free from the blanket tangled around her legs.
Again, I think about how I don’t want tonight to end.
I reach over to help her untangle herself, but instead, I reach past the blanket. My heart races when I realize I can’t stop myself. I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pull her lips to mine.
It’s instant, the fire that erupts inside me.