Chapter 7 - Ivan
The rest of the condo falls far too quiet after I leave Mila in the spare room, and there’s nothing calm or settled about it.
Even if I don’t need it, I pour myself a drink and lean against the counter while I stare at nothing as everything catches up to me at once, without even an ounce of mercy.
I know I crossed a line with her. That was apparent the moment I closed that door behind me, pulling Mila out of circulation. It was supposed to be clean and strategic, and if anything, a temporary thing while I figured out how to dismantle everything else.
Instead, it feels like I just pulled off the world’s most impressive bank heist, but now I’m holding the cash and don’t have a getaway car. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with it now that I’m implicated.
She’s leverage and insurance, and she’s also something I need to solve before everything truly blows up in my face.
For now, everything is quiet, and nobody is causing an uproar. I can work with this. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.
Though there’s a truth I keep skirting around because it feels easier than being real with myself. I didn’t take her because it made sense, or because I had some grand plan in the works.
I’m keeping her here because I can’t stand the thought of someone else doing the same thing and deciding her fate. Especially not a Balakin, and one who has an obvious reason to want her within reach.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I exhale slowly as it all soaks in, festering in an annoying way.
Roman’s going to lose his shit when he finds out, and after that, I’ll have to listen to whatever scolding Mikhail has in store for me.
But for now, it’s just me and the consequences of my actions that happened to be very informed by my fixation.
Before I can get too annoyed with myself, I push off the counter and carry my drink into the living room, and I drop down onto the sofa with a deep breath. I pull my phone out and wake the screen with a tap before navigating to my surveillance software.
With a single click, the live feed fills the screen, showing me an uninterrupted view of the spare room as the light starts to dim.
Mila’s sitting on the edge of the bed at first with a rigid posture as expected, but after a few minutes, she stands and moves quietly across the room.
Her steps are careful, like she’s ready to pull a fast one on me, and she checks the first window.
She goes to lift it, but it doesn’t budge.
Not even after she checks the frame for some kind of lock or a release. She checks the next one, but no luck.
Given how new the building is, she should’ve guessed that, but I can’t fault her for trying.
I watch a long while, well aware that nothing she tries will work, but in a strange, quiet way, I’m waiting for her to prove me wrong. To throw a wrench in all of this and spit in my face at the same time…not that I’d mind a bit of a challenge.
Frustration becomes more apparent in her movements as she searches for any sort of weak point, and as much as I like the idea of her submitting to this, there’s something more interesting about her not succumbing.
There’s still some fight in her, and that’s a good thing.
Pressing the microphone button on the screen, I wait a moment before murmuring, “You won’t find a way out. Everything’s reinforced.”
Immediately, Mila freezes, then she spins around, eyes scanning the room until she finds the lens, or at least, when she spots the faint infrared light tucked in one corner.
Her brows pinch. “You can’t be serious…are you watching me?”
When her voice comes through the phone speakers, I murmur back without hesitation, “Yes.”
Obviously, not impressed with my unapologetic tone, pure anger slides across her features, and her tone comes back hardened. “Turn it off.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“You don’t get to spy on me after forcing me to stay here.”
“You’re in my house, and apparently, you have a habit of running.”
“You’re sick.”
My lips pull faintly, even at her scalding words. “Go to bed, Mila. You’re exhausted.”
She glares back at the camera, and for a moment, I assume she’s planning on throwing something at it before she moves stiffly to the bed. With a decisive yank of the covers, she slips beneath them and hides herself completely, leaving nothing but a vague lump behind.
I watch for a moment longer, sitting in my quiet amusement at her irritation, before turning the audio off and minimizing the camera feed to the corner of my screen just to keep an eye on her.
Leaning back in my seat, I take a breath and scroll through my contacts before finding Kat’s name and pressing it before I can talk myself out of it.
I’m well aware that I’m beginning a scent trail that could backfire fast, but I can’t just sit on this potential lead.
Luckily, she picks up just before the third ring. “Ivan? What do you want?”
I scoff with a grin. “Hi to you too.”
“That’s not…” Kat trails off before sighing, then she tries again, “Sorry, you don’t usually call me. Did you mean to call Sergey? Are you drunk again?”
At that, I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Always assuming the worst. “No, I called you for a reason, not Sergey.”
“Okay then,” she murmurs, sounding vaguely hesitant but also curious. “Is everything alright?”
“That depends,” I say, absently tapping my finger against the edge of my phone. “How well do you know your extended family?”
Kat takes a long, drawn-out breath, whether genuine or exaggerated, it’s hard to know. “These questions rarely lead anywhere good. Who are we talking about?”
“Maksim Balakin.”
She pauses, then hums just loud enough for the microphone to catch. “The name rings a bell, but if anything, my guess is a distant cousin. Our family tree is a bit of a mess, and Dad only really kept tabs on the ‘important’ ones.”
That’s both promising and not quite…
“Do you know where he is now?”
“Nope, I couldn’t tell you. But if he’s like most of my family, he won’t want to be found. Why?”
I stare at the small frame of the spare bedroom on my screen. “I have reason to believe he might be trying to find his footing here.”
Given how she pauses again, I know this catches her attention. “In Yuri’s place?”
“That’s what I’m assuming for now, but I need confirmation. I was hoping you might’ve known something.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything. He was never really involved, from what I remember, and we just never stayed in touch,” Kat says, sounding like she wishes she could be more help.
“I figured it was a long shot,” I murmur, absently rubbing at the bridge of my nose.
“I can ask Sergey. He might know more.”
“No, it’s fine, you don’t have to—”
But before I can keep this between us, there’s a slight shuffle on the other end, followed by a relaxed breath from Sergey. “Too late, I already heard my name. What’s going on?”
Kat scoffs, but doesn’t say anything else.
Knowing I can’t get out of having this conversation right now, I close my eyes and brace myself. “There’s a high chance Yuri isn’t calling the shots anymore, even if he escaped lockup. Someone else is making moves.”
“And you think it’s this Maksim person?”
“Yes.”
“And how did you come to this tentative conclusion?” He asks, his voice giving away a vague sense of knowing.
I hesitate just long enough for him to catch, and long enough for him to continue.
“And why do I get the feeling this is personal?”
“It’s not personal, but it’s relevant,” I mutter.
“Relevant to what?”
Glancing up at the small frame in the corner again, something in me squeezes. “To Mila Grimaldi.”
Neither Sergey nor Kat says anything for a moment, then he asks, “The one you’ve been monitoring?”
“Yeah, that one.”
When he pauses again, I swear I can already hear the gears turning in his mind, then absolute certainty comes bleeding through. “You took her, didn’t you?”
And there it is.
“She ran in front of me, and I happened to step in just in time,” I say, but it sounds more like a lame excuse than the truth.
“And you kept her.”
I wait a few seconds, then I sigh. “Yes.”
“Ivan, are you out of your fucking mind? You were supposed to watch her. More importantly, her brothers.”
“Yeah, and you were supposed to ‘just watch’ Kat, too. Now look at you.”
This catches him, but Sergey scoffs. “That’s different.”
“It’s definitely not.”
Kat snorts on the other end. “He kind of has a point.”
“As much as I love you, sweetheart, you’re not helping,” Sergey mutters under his breath, only earning himself a laugh from her.
“Are you two done?” I ask, internally groaning at the sound of my brother being affectionate with his wife, even if I should be used to that by now. “Look, all I did was remove her from the equation before she could be handed to a Balakin. He was obviously going to use her.”
“You kidnapped Carlo and Cesare’s sister, and after their dad was killed by us, no less. That isn’t strategy, it’s provocation,” Sergey fires back, refocusing his attention.
“They were going to marry her off to form an alliance.”
“And that’s not your problem.”
“It should be,” I scoff. “And it is now.”
My brother pulls in a deep, annoyed breath. “Soon enough, Roman is going to find out, and when he does, he’ll want to know why you went rogue instead of checking in first.”
As tempting as it is to defend myself until I’m blue in the face, I don’t. It won’t get me anywhere right now.
After a quiet moment, Sergey presses, “Why her?”
Because I’ve been watching her for months, and during that time, I’ve become so fixated on her that I can’t go an hour without thinking about her. Because the thought of her being tied to a Balakin makes me want to kill Maksim with my bare hands, and I don’t even know the guy.
More importantly, because I have her here, in my possession, and the mere idea of letting her go turns my stomach.
“I’m handling it,” I say instead, refusing to be that vulnerable.
Sergey huffs out a breath, but it’s too humorless to be a laugh. “You already aren’t.”
“Then I’ll prove you wrong.”
“Christ…you’re already in deeper than I thought,” he replies, saying it like my fate has already been sealed. “Then don’t wait. Call Roman.”
My jaw clenches as I try to keep a solid grip on my irritation, and the lie slips from my tongue before I can think on it. “I will.”
A beat later, Sergey hangs up, and the line drops.
So much for keeping this private.