Chapter Three
Jarek
T hree weeks later. .. Four Seasons Private Residences, One Dalton Street, Boston...
Jarek looked out over the city skyline from the glass-enclosed patio where they were having breakfast. This was his favorite time of the day, with the morning sun painting Boston’s architectural landscape in shades of gold. Sixty-one floors up, they had an unobstructed view of the Charles River winding through the city.
“Your breakfast, Mrs. Farrel.”
“It’s Polov, Tony.”
The corner of Jarek’s mouth twitched at the familiar exchange. It had become his morning entertainment—his chef announcing breakfast and his wife’s immediate correction. He found her persistence amusing, this small act of defiance that meant nothing in the grand scheme.
The aroma of fresh croissants and Tony’s signature eggs Benedict wafted across the table.
“It looks delicious as always, Tony,” Tatiana offered politely and deliberately focused on her plate, cutting her food with surgical attention. She had perfected the art of making him invisible while being acutely aware of his presence.
“Is there anything else you need, Boss?” Tony asked with an accusing look in his eyes. In his early sixties, Tony believed marriage vows were sacred. Even though he had sympathy with Jarek’s need for revenge, he didn’t agree with the execution, least of all using an innocent woman in his quest. It hadn’t bothered Jarek... at least not up to now. He shook off the thought. Nothing had changed. If he had to do it all over again, the end result would’ve brought them to the exact same conclusion.
“We’re good, thanks.”
“Then I’ll finish preparing Mrs. Farrel’s lunch. Can’t have her go hungry the entire day at the office.”
“Once again... it’s Polov, Tony.”
With a “Gmphf,” he stomped back into the penthouse toward the kitchen,
Taking a sip of his coffee, Jarek scrolled through the newspaper on his tablet. Through his shell company, Bolton Enterprises, he had orchestrated TAP’s transition years before their marriage. Their new headquarters at Boston Logan International Airport was a masterpiece of modern architecture. It consisted of thirty-five stories of glass and steel office building with an attached warehouse, both designed with cutting-edge environmental standards.
His forward planning had already generated substantial revenue for TAP. The office spaces were leased to premium corporate clients, following Tatiana’s current business model but with enhanced modernization and connections. The rental income from the past two years sat in investment portfolios, growing steadily under his expert management.
He glanced at Tatiana as she reviewed the project list for the headquarters’ opening. She had no idea that her company’s expansion had been set in motion long before she had walked down the aisle. The thought of her reaction when she discovered the extent of his involvement brought a slight smile to his face.
The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but it did nothing to warm the arctic atmosphere between them. Jarek’s fingers tightened imperceptibly around his coffee cup as Tatiana maintained the studied concentration on her breakfast.
For three weeks, their meals were exercises in silence. She had mastered the art of existing in the same space while maintaining an impenetrable wall between them. Her shoulders remained rigid with her posture, displaying a clear signal that she considered his presence an unwelcome intrusion in her personal space.
When forced to communicate about business matters, she addressed the air somewhere to his left, and her voice carried the impersonal tone reserved for unwanted telemarketers. Her responses were clipped, efficient, and devoid of any emotion.
Jarek’s jaw clenched as he watched her methodically spread butter on a croissant. His patience, usually boundless in business dealings, was wearing dangerously thin. The constant dismissal of his existence grated against his self-control.
She rose from the table with fluid grace, gathering her tablet and papers without a glance in his direction. Her heels clicked against the marble floor in a steady rhythm of retreat that had become all too familiar.
“Tatiana.” His voice cut through the silence, sharp enough to make her pause mid-step. She didn’t turn, but the slight stiffening of her spine told him she was listening. “This silent treatment won’t change anything.”
Her fingers whitened around her tablet, but she resumed walking without acknowledgment.
“We’re in this marriage for a minimum of five years, my dear wife.” Jarek’s voice carried across the space between them. He kept his tone deliberately measured. “The least we can do is be civil to each other.”
The words halted her progress. She whirled around, her designer dress swirling with the sudden movement. Frost hardened in her blue eyes as she fixed him with a look that could freeze hell.
“Except there is nothing civil to this entire situation, is there?”
Jarek leaned back into his chair, projecting an air of casual control that he knew would infuriate her further. “In the end, you chose to come here and stay married to me.”
Her heel ground against the marble floor as she took a deep breath. The morning sun caught the highlights in her hair, creating a halo effect that contrasted sharply with the venom in her expression. There was no denying he had married a fiery and beautiful woman.
“Do not pretend that I had any other choice, Jarek Farrel.” Her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “You used the only weapon that would make me yield, and you know it.”
His knuckles cracked as his fist clenched on the table in an outward sign of his fraying patience. The delicate coffee cup rattled in its saucer as he set it down with controlled force.
“I have given you space, Tatiana, to allow you time to process the redirection of your life.” He rose from his chair. “It ends today. My tolerance for this childish behavior has reached its limit.”
The air crackled with tension as they faced each other across the sun-drenched room, two immovable forces locked in a battle of wills. The distant hum of Boston traffic filtered up from sixty-one floors below as a mundane counterpoint to their private war.
Jarek’s voice dropped to a dangerous treble. “Now, what's on your agenda for the day?”
Tatiana maintained her icy silence as her azure eyes launched invisible arrows at his chest.
“Levin and I are going to view warehouses at the docks.” She eventually spat out the words like bullets. As usual, her gaze was fixed on some invisible point past his left shoulder. The morning light caught the diamond on her wedding ring as her hands clenched at her sides. He was surprised to notice she wore it every day, especially since she made no secret of her growing hatred for him and the situation he had forced her into.
“I told you to focus on staff relocation and employment, Tatiana.” Jarek’s voice emanated with the unquestioned command of a man who expected mountains to move at his decree. “The premises have already been sorted.”
With skepticism etched in the gesture, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched upward. “And I told you, it’s my business, and I know what I want.” Her chin lifted in defiance. “You will not control what and how I do anything in regard to TAP. If that means Bolton Enterprises withdraws their investment, then so be it.”
“There we go again.” Jarek dabbed his lips with deliberate slowness, as if the white linen napkin was a flag of temporary truce. “There are two things I’m an expert at—business investments and property development. You’d—”
“Really?” Honey-sweet venom dripped from her words. “And here I thought it was deceit and lies.”
“It would be irresponsible to waste the opportunity I offer to get TAP up and running within a week, Tatiana,” he continued as if her barb hadn’t landed, though his fingers tightened imperceptibly around the napkin.
Her expression shifted as a crack appeared in her armor to reveal raw emotion beneath. Her eyes misted over as her voice softened with memory.
“Finding the perfect location and the proper building isn’t an overnight achievement.” She swallowed hard. “In Atlanta... I worked with the architect, mulling over every aspect of the design of that building.”
Her spine straightened as she gathered her composure like a shield. “I refuse to drop my standards purely because I don’t have a year or two to design and have one built.”
“It’s already been done.” Jarek’s words fell into the space between them like stones into still water.
Her eyes narrowed as confusion momentarily replaced hostility. “What are you talking about?”
“TAP’s new headquarters.” Power emanated from him. His cold demeanor caused a drop in the room temperature. “At the perfect location with a better and bigger office building and warehouse than the one in Atlanta.” He advanced toward her with measured steps. “It’s been operational and generating rental income, which I have placed in high-earning investments.”
“How... when...” The color drained from Tatiana’s face as understanding dawned. Her voice turned brittle to match the glacial look in her eyes. “How long?”
“Two years.” The words emerged with studied precision as Jarek allowed his mask to slip, revealing the darkness beneath. Her earlier disgust had struck deeper than he could ever have anticipated, and it awakened the cruel streak he usually kept carefully controlled. The Dark One always lurked just below the surface, a fact he had come to realize more and more over the past five years. Time had widened the gap between what good he still had left and the darkness that had become the dominant player in who he now was. The need to remind her of her position, to make her feel the force of his power, surged through him.
“You... two years?” Her breath caught as she struggled to process his words. She took an instinctive step backward. Blinking, she stared at the wide expanse of the blue sky that stretched out behind him as a silent witness to their confrontation.
“It’s been ten years, to be exact, since I actively began manifesting the success of your company.”
“I don’t... what the fuck are you talking about?”
“I came to the States with one goal—to destroy Gregor Polov. You starting your company coincided very timeously with my arrival. All those big contracts? The overnight success of a startup logistic company among amalgamated powerhouses out there?” He shrugged. “I made it happen, Tatiana, but only to the extent of offering you the olive branches. Make no mistake, the success you achieved is all yours.”
“God, how I hate you.” Her voice cracked as she struggled to retain a modicum of control. “All these years, I believed I succeeded because we were the best in the business. Because I worked my ass off, and now...”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You were that good... you were the one to evolve TAP to become one of the best and biggest in the South. I gave you a nudge... you’re the one who ran with it.”
“A nudge... why don’t you call it what it is, fuckface? You used me, pure and simple.” She was trembling with a rage she made no attempt to hide.
Jarek closed the remaining distance between them and effectively caged her against the wall with his strong body.
“You already know this, my dear wife.” His voice dropped to a dark and intimate whisper, “I told you, you were always the target... the currency for the debt Gregor owes me.”
The morning sun cast half his face in shadow while highlighting the ruthless set of his jaw on the other half. He watched realization chase across her features. Her fate had been sealed long before she had known his name, and her careful plans and independent success over the past ten years had always been moving according to his design. The knowledge settled over her like a ton of bricks, and her shoulders sagged slightly before she caught herself and straightened. It was one of her admirable qualities—fearlessly facing challenges.
“You’re a fucking bastard, Jarek Farrel, and I can’t begin to tell you how much I despise you.” Her body shook with barely contained fury.
“Well, that comes with the territory, and I didn’t expect anything else.” His voice was a masterclass in restraint, flowing with such practiced evenness that only those who knew him best would detect the hairline fractures in his control. “However, since we are man and wife, and I am still owed one payment, this cold shoulder routine is over.”
The sharp barb hovering on her lips never found voice as his hands seized her face with the delicacy of handling a fragile treasure. Jarek’s hesitation lasted mere heartbeats before his patience shattered completely, and his mouth crashed against hers. There was a reckless abandonment in the act, as if he was seeking salvation in the very element that threatened to drown him. It was laced with pure dominance, a demonstration of control that broke through her walls of resistance.
For a moment, she remained rigid against him, but then her inherent submissive nature betrayed her. Her hands clutched at the lapels of his jacket as she responded and surrendered to the inevitable pull between them. The trembling of her body against his bartered with his desire to break her spirit.
The kiss evolved into an unspoken declaration, a passionate conversation without words, and an admission neither was ready to voice. Her fiery response cracked his indifference as it unleashed an unfamiliar vulnerability. The darkness in him celebrated her wild submission, yet amid that triumph bloomed an inconvenient truth of a desperate, unwanted thirst to exchange power for partnership, to risk everything for the chance that her fire might permanently warm the frozen wasteland of his soul—to love... and be loved.
The realization rocked him. The love she had for me very quickly turned to hate. He broke away abruptly as he struggled to regain his composure. They stood there, both breathing heavily, staring at each other.
“Come,” his voice emerged with an unfamiliar roughness. “I’ll take you to the new TAP headquarters.”
The morning sun spilled through the window, illuminating the unshed tears pooling in Tatiana’s eyes. She stared at him with her arctic composure crumbling into ruins, exposing raw, unfiltered bewilderment. His lungs constricted as if bands of steel were tightening around his ribs. The pressure expanded outward, crushing his chest in a grip he couldn't identify—couldn’t control.
This unguarded version of her unleashed a primal protectiveness and desires that he had deliberately buried beneath years of practiced indifference. Her vulnerability threatened the very detachment and defenses that had become his sanctuary.
He turned away, unwilling to face what he had glimpsed in those azure depths. He sure as hell wasn’t ready to turn soft from one look of warmth from his ice-queen wife.
“Your lunch, madam,” Tony said as he held out a small cooler bag to Tatiana, oblivious to the power play unfolding of a man controlling the most lucrative mafia group in the States, having just reminded his unwilling wife exactly why she wore his ring.