Chapter 4
ADRIAN
I’m reviewing quarterly projections for the hotel group on the terrace when Viktor walks through the sliding door with his tablet and a look that tells me the projections can wait. He drops into the chair across from me without asking and sets the tablet face-up on the glass table.
“We have a problem with Dominic’s supply chain.”
I close the laptop. Morning light off Biscayne Bay makes the tablet screen hard to read, so Viktor angles it toward the shade. The screen shows surveillance photos I haven’t seen before.
“The Fort Lauderdale broker is new, just like the agent in Jacksonville.” Viktor taps the first photo. “He started handling clearances for two of Dominic’s nightlife suppliers six weeks ago. Before that, he worked exclusively with Karpov’s import operation out of Port Everglades.”
“So, Karpov is definitely inserting his people into Dominic’s supply chain.”
“Deeper than that.” Viktor swipes to a second photo. “These two contacts used to handle liquor distribution and event staffing for three clubs, including Echelon. They answered to Dominic’s network. Both of them took meetings with Karpov’s lieutenant last week.”
I lean back and look past Viktor toward the water. “Dominic is losing control of his own people.”
“Dominic lost control weeks ago. He just doesn’t know it yet, or he does and decided Karpov is a better bet than you.”
“Neither option ends well for him.” I pick up my coffee from the terrace railing where I left it.
“Pull the surveillance on both contacts. I want to know every meeting they’ve taken in the last thirty days, every phone call, and every transfer over five thousand dollars.
If Karpov is building a parallel network inside Dominic’s operation, I want the full map before I decide what to do about it. ”
Viktor makes a note on his tablet. “I’ll have it by Friday.”
My phone rings. The screen shows my mother’s name, and I answer because ignoring Irina’s calls creates more problems than taking them.
“Adrian.” Her voice is warm. “You sound tense.”
“I’m working.”
“You’re always working. That’s not what I’m hearing.
” She pauses, and I can picture her sitting in the sunroom of her Coral Gables house, a cup of tea cooling beside her, reading the silence between my words.
“Something has you distracted. Tell me what it is, or I’ll assume the worst and call Viktor. ”
“Don’t call Viktor.” I glance at him across the table. He raises one eyebrow. “A nightclub owner I’ve tolerated for years is making decisions that suggest he’s forgotten who protects his business. I’m handling it.”
She hesitates. “Handling it how?”
“Carefully, and with options.”
“Your father said the same thing before every disaster he walked into.” She lets that settle before continuing.
“What else? You aren’t generally this dour because of the usual bratv…
political machinations in your empire.” She corrects herself at the last minute, probably remembering mine and Papa’s warnings to never discuss anything incriminating on an unsecured line. “Is there a woman in the picture?”
I grimace. She’s probably instantly imagining pudgy grandchildren who cling to her and call her Babushka. “There is a woman at the club who has become an unexpected variable.” I’m honest with her because I don’t lie to Mama unless it’s to protect her and only when completely necessary.
The silence on the line lasts three seconds, which from Irina is the equivalent of a lecture. “Is she useful, or is she personally distracting?”
I don’t answer directly, which tells her everything.
“Adrian.” Her tone shifts, and the warmth hardens into something closer to warning.
“Your father confused attraction with control his entire life. He saw a woman he wanted, and he convinced himself wanting her was the same as needing her, so needing her was the same as owning her. Every mistake Sergei made with women started with that confusion. I lived inside those mistakes for twenty years.”
I stiffen despite my intention to remain unaffected by her words. “I’m not my father.”
“I didn’t say you were. I said if you can’t tell me honestly whether this woman is a strategic consideration or a personal one, you should stay away from her until you can. I won’t watch you repeat his patterns.” She drops her voice slightly. “You and the women in your life deserve better.”
The comment irritates me because it’s accurate.
I’ve spent the last week telling myself Aurora Moore is professionally interesting, her competence at Echelon is relevant to my assessment of Dominic’s operation, and my attention to her is the same attention I’d give any asset in a venue I use for business.
That stopped being true around the time I asked Viktor to identify her ex-boyfriend.
“I appreciate the concern, Mother.”
She laughs. “Liar,” she says with affection. “You tolerate my concern. I know this because that’s the voice you use when you want me to stop talking. I’ll stop. Just remember that your father never thought he was wrong or changing either.”
She hangs up. I set down the phone and look at Viktor, who has been studiously reading his tablet throughout the entire conversation. “Don’t say anything.”
“I wasn’t going to.” He stands and picks up his jacket. “I’ll have the surveillance report by Friday. Are we going to Echelon tonight?”
“Yes, we are.”
“For business reasons?” His lip curls upward on the left side.
“Enough, Viktor.”
He almost smiles and walks out.
Echelon is busy for a Thursday. The main floor is three-quarters full by eleven, and Dominic has added two extra security staff near the VIP section, which tells me he’s expecting clients who require management.
Viktor and I take table one, and I order a whiskey while Sokolov handles the room sweep.
Dominic has already been to our table twice since we arrived, checking whether we need anything while adjusting the angle of the whiskey glass like it matters.
He’s performing attentiveness like some men project false calm when being watched.
Aurora is working the south end of the floor before she reaches my section.
She’s wearing black tonight, something fitted that moves when she moves, and she’s handling three VIP tables simultaneously while making the other staff look like amateurs.
She redirects a server carrying the wrong bottle, adjusts a table arrangement without breaking stride, and answers her phone while confirming a reservation change on her tablet.
She does all of it without once looking toward my table, which is either discipline or a deliberate choice I’m not supposed to notice.
I’m watching her when I shouldn’t be. My mother’s warning is still fresh. I hear it clearly and choose to set it aside.
Then I see Hayes.
Eric Hayes is standing near the service corridor, talking to Aurora.
He’s positioned too close, angled toward her to block her path to the main floor.
His posture is casual, with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a glass of water he probably asked a bartender for just to justify his presence.
The placement is deliberate.
He’s made himself an obstacle she has to navigate around or through to exercise control. He doesn’t need to touch her or raise his voice. He just needs to occupy the space she wants to move through and force her to ask his permission to leave.
Aurora’s body language changes immediately.
The fluid confidence she carries on the floor goes rigid.
Her shoulders square, and she takes a half step back to restore the distance he eliminated.
He says something I can’t hear over the music, leaning in with the body language of a man delivering a reasonable concern. She shakes her head once.
Then he reaches toward her hair.
It’s a small gesture. He lifts his hand to brush a strand behind her ear.
It’s an intimate touch he hasn’t had the right to for months if he ever earned it at all.
Aurora flinches. She pulls back her head, and her entire body tightens for a fraction of a second before she recovers and says something short and sharp.
I see the word, “Leave,” form on her lips even from across the room.
Hayes smirks at her discomfort, as though her flinch confirms something he wanted to verify.
He clearly likes that he still has access to her body’s involuntary responses even though she ended the relationship.
He holds up both hands in mock surrender, says one more thing with a smile that looks forced, and walks toward the exit.
Aurora watches him go, not returning to work or anything else until the door closes behind him.
Then she smooths her dress, adjusts the tablet in her hand, and turns back toward the floor.
By the time she reaches the nearest VIP table, she’s working again as though nothing interrupted her.
The recovery is fast and practiced. She’s done this before. Many times.
I’m out of my chair before I’ve decided to stand.
Dominic is near the bar, talking to his floor manager with a lot of hand gestures. I cross to him and wait until the floor manager leaves. Dominic sees me coming and straightens up, adjusting his jacket.
“Why is Eric Hayes allowed in this club?”
Dominic blinks. “He’s a homicide detective. I’m not getting on the bad side of a cop who could shut me down with one phone call.”
I take a half-step closer. “He’s here to harass your senior hostess on your floor during business hours, and he’s doing it off-duty.”
He shrugs. “Adrian, with all due respect, Aurora can handle Eric. She’s been dealing with him for months.”