Dmitri
Chapter Twenty
W hen I returned to the mansion, its grand facade looming in the dim light of dawn, I quietly made my way to the bedroom.
There, Lara lay still, enveloped in the soft glow of early morning.
Her serene face, framed by cascades of blonde hair, exuded an ethereal beauty, and her peaceful slumber seemed untouched by the world’s chaos.
As I stood frozen in the doorway, admiration mixed with a longing that tugged at my heartstrings, a desire to be near her once more.
Despite the pull to join her in the warm cocoon of the bed, I chose a different path.
Gently closing the door behind me, I descended the marble staircase to my study.
Sleep had abandoned me, leaving me alone with Maxim’s harsh words echoing relentlessly in my mind.
His audacity had crossed a line—his ignorance was palpable.
Had he endured the loss I had, with family ripped away in a brutal, unforgiving manner, he would have understood the depths of vengeance that consumed me.
Settling into the leather chair behind my expansive mahogany desk, I poured a generous measure of my finest, most expensive vodka.
The clock’s hands crept toward six in the morning, yet the clear liquid was my only solace, the only balm for the turbulent thoughts battling within my mind.
First, it was my uncle, a gaping wound in my heart, and now this stranger, stirring the waters once more.
If I were a betting man, I would stake everything on the notion that the Balestrinis had orchestrated the hijacking of my shipments.
Though the Red Knights lurked in obscurity, it seemed that the Balestrinis might have finally uncovered the truth about those responsible for their heirs’ demise.
Piece by piece, they were rebuilding what I had dismantled, attempting to reclaim their lost empire by destroying mine.
No fucking way would I ever let that happen.
After finishing the last sip of my drink, I opened my laptop to check my emails.
To my surprise, an email from Gavin awaited me, announcing that the Zhukov family home had found a buyer.
That was incredibly fast. Like me, Gavin was a relentless insomniac.
He wanted to meet with me this morning at his office to finalize the necessary paperwork for the sale.
Not only had Lara unknowingly signed our marriage license, but she had also inadvertently granted me power of attorney over all matters related to the property.
Although I had no intention of keeping the proceeds from the sale, as they rightfully belonged to her, I still desired to maintain control over them.
After swiftly firing off a quick email, I headed back upstairs to refresh myself with a shower. I needed to wash away the tension that had clung to me over the past twelve hours.
I ascended the sleek marble stairs two at a time when my cell phone rang. “Hello,” I answered.
“Dmitri, mi amigo .” The voice belonged to Carlos Acosta, someone I hadn’t anticipated hearing from. “I think you might have a problem.”
“Carlos. To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice?” I inquired, teasing him, as always, about his thick accent.
“One of my men just laid one of your weapons on my desk. It seems someone has intercepted one of your shipments, and somehow, we ended up with it.”
While this development could be beneficial, it wasn’t the kind of news I had been hoping for. If my merchandise had made its way to Cuba, there was no telling where the rest might have ended up.
“How much?” I pressed.
“Ten crates,” he replied with an air of gravity. “This is not good, my friend. But luckily, one of my men noticed something was wrong. They were very nervous. Too nervous, so he brought one of the thieves to me. We are holding him prisoner.”
“Fuck.” That was over three million dollars’ worth of weapons, and they would fetch even more on the street. The gravity of the situation hung heavily in the air. “How much do you want for them?”
“For you, my friend, half of what I paid.” Carlos was known for being a fair man, but with him, there was always an angle, a hidden twist, waiting to be revealed.
“What else?” I inquired, knowing there was more to this bargain.
“You know that beautiful sailboat of yours?” he hinted with a sly tone in his voice. “My family would love to own a sailboat to sail the islands.”
“Done,” I agreed with a tight smile, gritting my teeth. “I’ll contact you when I can arrange the exchange. Oh, and Carlos, I want to be there when you question the prisoner.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way. I’ll even treat you to some Cristalino Tequila instead of that vodka shit you drink,” Carlos added, his laughter resonating like a low rumble.
As I stepped into the shower, the water cascaded down my body, each drop a soothing balm for my tense muscles. The steam enveloped me, and for a moment, I allowed myself to hope that I might finally uncover the answers I had been desperately seeking.
After drying off, I wrapped a plush towel around my waist and walked into my expansive closet.
Gavin had insisted on meeting this morning to finalize the paperwork for the sale of the Zhukov home.
Once dressed in a sharp Armani suit that fit me like a second skin, I emerged from the walk-in closet to find Lara still nestled in the bed, her breathing soft and rhythmic.
Before leaving the room, I leaned over and gently placed a kiss on her lips. She stirred slightly, her lips curling into a sleepy half-smile that warmed my heart.
“Come back to bed,” she murmured, her hand reaching out blindly to find me.
“Go back to sleep, kukolka ,” I whispered, kissing her once more on the lips before quietly slipping out of the room.
~***~
I left Gavin’s office just in time to meet the mysterious stranger who had texted me the day before.
The Red Knights were strategically positioned, and though their presence was invisible to the naked eye, I felt the reassuring weight of their support.
Not sharing this endeavor with Stepan gnawed at me, but this was a mission I needed to undertake alone.
The stranger had chosen this meeting spot with intention; it was a desolate section of the port, abandoned and forgotten.
The area was a graveyard of empty loading docks and dilapidated storage warehouses, relics of a time when they were the lifeblood of old crime families.
Now, they stood silent and lifeless after the port’s shutdown.
As a child, I recalled crouching behind massive freight containers, my eyes wide with awe and fear as I watched clandestine deals unfold and money change hands.
It was a miracle I’d never been caught during those reckless escapades.
Sitting in my car, anticipation coiled in my stomach, I waited for this enigmatic figure to arrive.
My uncle’s ominous threats echoed in my mind, a relentless loop.
“To maintain your position, you must secure a wife, a family,” he’d intoned, his voice heavy with unyielding authority.
My grip on the steering wheel tightened with every word.
“The hijacked shipment is a sign of weakness. Perhaps it’s time to reconsider your position as Pakhan and let the brotherhood decide what is best for the Bratva.
” The audacity of him, to dictate my actions and foretell the consequences if I failed to comply, sent a surge of anger through me. To hell with him.
My spiraling thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the ping of my cell phone, signaling an incoming text.
ALEXEI : Black Audi approaching.
The moment the sleek, black Audi appeared on the horizon, I emerged from my Lamborghini, the air crisp and charged with tension, and stood waiting for it to halt before me.
A man, mirroring my height and build, exited the back passenger door, his movements deliberate and confident.
He was clad in a sharply tailored suit and wore dark sunglasses that shielded his eyes.
His hair, a deep onyx, was meticulously trimmed on the sides and slicked back precisely.
If he believed his appearance would intimidate me, he was sorely mistaken.
When he removed his glasses, a flicker of recognition sparked in my mind as I noticed something familiar about his eyes.
They were a vivid, striking, emerald green, identical to Lara’s.
This man could only be one person. Slowly, I reached inside my suit jacket, feeling the cool, reassuring weight of my Glock as my fingers brushed against its grip.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Angelo advised smoothly, his voice carrying an ominous certainty as if he possessed knowledge I did not. “I knew you wouldn’t come alone. Neither did I. You will be dead before you pull your weapon from its holster.”
“What is this about, Balestrini?” I demanded, my voice laced with intensity as I fixed him with a steely gaze.
“My sister. I know you have her,” he replied with unnerving calmness. “I want her back, and you want Andrei Zhukov.”
“Lara is my wife. Surprise, brother-in-law,” I confessed, gauging his reaction with careful scrutiny.
“Marriages can be annulled. I know you took her to get revenge for your father’s death. You won’t need her if I hand Andrei over to you.”
I had known the Balestrinis all my life, and their reputation for deceit was well-earned. Trusting one of them now seemed as reckless as ever.
“And how do you propose to do that when he is in hiding?” I inquired, skepticism etched into every word.
“Three years ago, Andrei began hosting a masquerade gala in honor of his deceased wife, Lidia,” he began, spinning a tale that piqued my interest. “No one knows who attends except him. It is by invitation only. He has been doing it in the hopes of drawing out the man who killed her. The guests don’t even know who organizes the gala or the real reason behind it.
All they know is that it’s a fundraiser for the Museum of the City of New York. ”
The revelation was astonishing, a piece of the puzzle that I had been missing for years. I had been tirelessly hunting that elusive bastard, Andrei, for three long years. Yet, there are only so many fundraisers one can attend. Not once did I think he would be hosting one for his dead wife.
“What are you proposing?” I probed, eager to understand the direction of this unexpected conversation.
“I will get you into the gala. All you have to do is bring Lara, and I will hand Andrei over to you in exchange.”
I wasn’t entirely sure why I had agreed to his terms, yet regardless of my reasons, the outcome remained unchanged—Andrei and Angelo wouldn’t be leaving that gala alive. Just as he was about to pivot and walk away, he had to know his fate.
“You know you are a dead man, Balestrini. Your family will pay for taking mine.”
He halted near the rear door of his sleek, black vehicle.
Turning to face me, his expression was a complex blend of sorrow and sincerity.
“I’m truly sorry for what happened to your mother and sister,” he said, his voice low and steady, “but I can assure you, the Balestrini Cosa Nostra was not responsible for the tragic events of that day. I know you don’t trust me, and perhaps you never will.
But I swear on my mother’s grave, it is the truth. ”
What the fuck? I sure as shit didn’t see that coming.