Dmitri
Chapter Twenty-Four
J ust as Angelo said, he sent the invitation to the mansion for Lara and me, along with a red mask for Lara and a black one for me.
The masquerade gala was to take place at the Museum of the City of New York.
It was being hosted by Phantom Conglomerate.
How fitting. No wonder Andrei was able to keep himself hidden all these years.
Inside the box, with Lara’s mask, was a note.
MAKE SURE SHE NEVER TAKES THE MASK OFF. SHE CAN’T KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON. ANDREI ALWAYS WEARS A TUX WITH A RED BOW TIE. YOU CAN’T MISS HIM. I WILL TAKE MY SISTER WHEN THE TIME COMES. GOOD LUCK.
I stared down at the note with one thought in mind: Tomorrow night would be the last time Andrei Zhukov ever drew breath .
I had been waiting so long to avenge my father’s death and now my wait was almost over.
I wouldn’t be giving him the same quick death he gave my father.
His death would be slow and agonizing. I wanted him to feel every single ounce of pain I had felt over the last three years since he took my father from me.
“We’ve found Edgar Romanoff.” Stepan entered my study with the best news I’d heard in a while. “We are keeping him at the warehouse.”
“Has he spoken yet?” I asked, rolling down my sleeves before slipping on my suit jacket.
“No, but he will.” Stepan reassured me. There were many ways to make a man talk.
Edgar Romanoff was sitting on a metal chair that was bolted to the floor with his hands and legs secured to the arms and legs of the chair. Based on Yuri’s hands, he already had his fun with our prisoner.
I removed my suit jacket and handed it to Stepan. He wouldn’t be getting his dirty this time. Removing my Rolex watch, I placed it on the metal cart next to all the tools we used to get information out of our prisoners. Before grabbing a pair of needle nose pliers, I rolled up my shirt sleeves.
“Edgar, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I reminded him, holding the pliers in my hand.
“What are you going to do with those?” he asked as he looked down at my hand with his one good eye, the other swollen shut.
“Pain can be very persuasive. Did you know that removing the nail can be quite painful, and it has been a form of torture for many centuries?” I informed him, giving him a little history lesson.
Spreading his fingers out, I took hold of his index finger, opened the pliers, and clamped down on his nail before pulling it from his finger. The skin beneath turned red and his screams of pain fill the empty space in the warehouse.
“You motherfucker,” he cursed, his Russian accent more prominent.
“And to think, I have nine more to go. Now tell me, who paid you to deliver the shipment of weapons to Cuba?”
“Fuck you.”
“Have it your way.” I clamped down on his middle finger, pulling the fingernail from the skin with the same amount of force.
With every nail I pulled from his fingers, his screams filled the warehouse, but he still wouldn’t break. There was one thing I knew about Russians. We were tough, but when it came to family, we would die for them.
Pulling my cell from my pocket, I pulled up the photo Stepan had shared with me on the drive to the warehouse. I must say, Edgar had a beautiful family. It would be a shame if anything happened to them.
I placed the pliers on the metal table and turned to face him. Lifting his head, I pointed my cell toward him to make sure he saw the photo of his family.
“Do you know why my men do not have any family?” I asked with a tinge of regret. Not for Edgar, but for my men. “It’s because family can be your greatest weakness.”
Edgar shook his head because he knew he couldn’t risk the lives of his family for loyalty to his boss. “It was Kumar Petrov. He requested the transportation of the shipment to Cuba. Please don’t….”
Before Edgar could finish his statement, I picked up the gun from the metal table and pulled the trigger. His head fell back, leaving a puddle of blood behind his chair.
“Make sure you clean this up. Bring Kumar to me.”
I left the warehouse feeling betrayed. Kumar was the Bratva’s Vor— an honorary title given to him my father. He taught me how to use a knife and how to protect myself. Last I knew, he was back in the motherland on assignment. I just couldn’t believe he would do this.
~***~
I walked inside the mansion with Stepan on my heels. The mansion was too quiet. I aways hated the quiet. Marta appeared at the top of the stairs carrying a hamper full of soiled linens.
When she reached the bottom, she appeared more disgusted than usual. Nodding her head, she stepped past us. “Good afternoon, sir.”
“Marta,” I greeted her. “Where is Lara?”
“Where she always is,” she replied sarcastically.
I looked behind me to where Stepan was still standing. “Make sure the shipment from Cuba has arrived and is safely transported back to the warehouse.”
“Yes, Pakhan ,” Stepan replied respectfully before he turned on his heels and headed out the front door.
“Marta,” I waited for her to turn to face me before continuing. “Call Chef Maarten. Tell him I would like him to prepare a meal Lara will never forget. We will be having dinner on the patio tonight instead of in the dining room.”
“Yes, sir.” Marta nodded before proceeding to the laundry room.
It wasn’t hard to find Lara. There were only a few places in the mansion where she would be—the library, conservatory, or garden.
This time I found her in the library, sitting on a chair near the window with her legs curled beneath her and a book on her lap.
She was a sight to behold, so innocent, so beautiful, and mine.
I walked toward her, never taking my eyes off her once. She slowly lifted her head from her book and gave me a half smile before closing the book, with her index finger marking her place.
“I didn’t hear you come in.” She unfolded her sexy legs and rose to her feet.
Barefoot, the top of her head came to my chin. My frame completely towered over her. She was so fragile, I could snap her in two. I placed my hand on her cheek, feeling her soft skin beneath my fingers.
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Her head lifted, velvety eyelashes fluttering upward until her gaze met mine.
It was a spark, an ignition, a dance of flames.
I placed my hands around her delicate waist, her dress like warm silk beneath my touch, and pressed my lips to hers.
Time slowed to a languid pace, each second stretching out like a lazy cat.
There was no rush, no urgency, just a pure, smoldering passion as my tongue explored the sweet recesses of her mouth, tangling with hers in a dance of desire.
Her soft moans resonated through her body, vibrating against me, each tiny quiver threatening to unravel me completely.
I guided her backward, her small frame yielding to my touch, until her back pressed against the towering bookshelves, the scent of aged paper and leather bindings enveloping us.
A gasp escaped her lips as her body flattened against the hard, unyielding wood.
I pulled up her dress, the fabric whispering beneath my touch, and bunched her panties in my fist, the delicate lace tearing like cobwebs beneath my urgent grasp.
My heart pounded like a primal drum in my chest as I hurriedly unbuckled my pants, the metal clanking in my haste. I lifted her, her leg looping around my waist, her skin like fire against mine. Any semblance of control I had left was lost, drowned in a sea of need.
“Dmitri.”
My name on her lips took the last bit of willpower I had. My spine straightened, every nerve ending alight with fire, and I thrust into her tight, velvety heat. Her gasps for air against my lips were intoxicating, a rhythm that threatened to consume me.
Her legs tightened around me, pulling me deeper into her, as if she could hold me there forever.
Tears slid down her cheeks, glistening like liquid silver, soaking us both.
Why was she crying? Whatever the reason, I would take her emotions, her tears, everything she had to offer. She was mine, utterly and completely.
My fingers dug into her supple thighs, her skin like soft clay beneath my touch, as I powered into her. I fed off her moans mixed with her tears, off the way she held onto me, even when she hated me.
I hit her sweet spot over and over, her body tensing like a bowstring ready to snap. She was sobbing out her orgasm, her body tightening around my cock like a vise. I emptied myself inside her with a deep, guttural growl, my harsh breathing echoing in the air like a primal call.
The sudden rap on the door was a harsh summons, wrenching me from the sanctuary of our shared intimacy.
Lara turned away, her cheeks glistening with tears, body quaking in the aftermath of her climax.
The room was thick with the scent of our passion, a musk that clung to the air like a heady perfume.
I slowly withdrew from her, watching as rivulets of my seed made a path down her trembling thighs, painting her skin with streaks of white. It was a primal sight, one that never failed to ignite a fierce possessiveness within me.
Gently, I took her by the elbow, steadying her before leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. My breath hitched, a whispered confession hanging in the air between us.
“I…”
Tucking myself back into my clothes, I turned toward the door, steeling myself against the words that threatened to spill from my lips—words I had vowed never to utter again. With a final glance at Lara, I stepped out of the library, leaving behind the sanctuary of our stolen moment.
~***~
“All I want to know is why?” I questioned, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt as I stared into the eyes of the man who had once been a pillar of respect in my life. He was no longer in Russia, but in New York. “Did you come back to New York to betray my father? To betray me?”
Kumar averted his gaze, the weight of shame and betrayal hanging in the air like a dense, suffocating fog. “Your father wasn’t a good man, Dmitri. He did things that not even the Bratva knew of; things that would chill the blood.”
“What does this have to do with my stolen shipments?” My fury surged like a tidal wave as I seized him by the throat, my grip ironclad. “Tell me what you know about my father.”
“He was the one who orchestrated the raid on your home on your eighteenth birthday. The day of your initiation,” he rasped, struggling for breath as I tightened my hold. “He made sure his men executed your mother and sister.”
“What? You’re lying.”
Stunned, I released my hold, stumbling backward as my fury morphed into a maelstrom of disbelief, grief, and shock. It was as if every emotion imaginable collided within me, leaving no room for the rage that had consumed me moments before.
Fixing my gaze on Kumar, I demanded answers, my voice barely a whisper. “Why? Why would my father do this?”
“He discovered she was having an affair. He learned that his little Ana wasn’t his own.
It shattered him, turned his heart to stone,” Kumar confessed, shaking his head, regret etched into every line of his face.
“I tried to intervene, but he wouldn’t listen.
That was when he exiled me to the motherland on assignment.
I was loyal to him, so I went. When I came back Ivan convinced me it was your fault your mother and Ana died, that you needed to pay.
He had proof that you were responsible for Viktor’s death, and that you had no right to be Pakhan . ”
“Proof. What proof?” I demanded, my voice a growl in the oppressive silence.
“A confession signed by your father.”
It felt like I was suffocating. Every belief I held about my father and the circumstances surrounding his death crumbled before me.
Doubt clouded my mind, leaving me uncertain about what and who to trust anymore.
My father’s signed confession my uncle claimed he had was nothing more than a fabricated tale.
On the night he died, I was far away, nowhere near him.
Instead, he was engaged in a clandestine meeting with Andrei.
That night, Andrei promised Lara to my father to settle his mounting debts.
Everything about that night hung heavily in the air, altering everything I thought I knew.
“Did my uncle order the hits on my warehouses?” I seethed, repulsed by so much deceit.
“I can’t tell you. My loyalty is to the Bratva,” Kumar replied, his voice tinged with defiance.
“I am your Pakhan . Your loyalty is to me,” I cursed, frustration and betrayal mingling in my words.
“Not anymore. The members have banished you as Pakhan . They will inaugurate Ivan to take your place,” he revealed, the finality of his words like a knife twisting in my gut.
BANG!
Over my dead body. No way in hell would I let Ivan get away with this. I just found another bad grape in the vine. And I was going to get rid of every last one of them, even if I had to tear down the goddamn orchard to do it.