4. Artem #2
“This isn’t right,” he mutters as he looks out, trying to count the crates. “There’s only forty-two crates here, it’s supposed to be forty-five,” he glances at me, and I furrow my brows as I double-check his math.
“Who the fuck signed off on this?” I turn back to the other men. All their eyes look to Ivan, who looks unaffected by the news. “Explain,” I spit to him as I walk closer.
He shrugs his shoulders. “It must’ve been an error at the port, these things happen.”
I restrain myself from losing my shit and run my hand over my mouth before I respond. “Do they?”
Ivan nods. “I’ll follow up with the contact, we’ll sort it out.”
I step closer to him, standing over him like a shadow. “You’ll ‘sort it out’, will you? Because from where I’m standing it looks like you’re too comfortable letting my shipments come up short.”
“Come on Artem, it’s three crates, it’s not worth blowing a gasket over. I’ll call the guy we picked it up from.”
My eyes look to Roman and Max, who both are avoiding my gaze not wanting to be in my crossfire. I grab tightly on Ivan’s jacket, yanking him forward until our eyes are inches apart.
“Every crate. Every bullet. Every gun. They’re all mine. So, when something of mine goes missing, it’s your responsibility to fucking keep track of it. Are we clear?”
Ivan puts his hands up in mock surrender, a smug smile on his face. “Crystal.”
I release his jacket. “Good, because if this happens again, your concern will be sorting yourself out of a shallow grave.”
Ivan straightens out his jacket, his smirk gone now, replaced with a subtle flash of anger that he didn’t bother to hide. “Understood,” he mutters, keeping eye contact with me until he turns to walk out of the warehouse without waiting for me to dismiss him.
“You gonna let him get away with that attitude?” Maxim playfully asks as he picks up a gun from the crate to inspect it.
“Watch how you hold that thing Max, it’s a gun not a fucking potato,” I sigh, only eliciting a laugh from him as he continues to casually hold it and pretend to drop it. “As for Ivan, let him stew. Men like him dig their own graves. I’m just waiting to throw in the dirt.”
The look Roman and Maxim share doesn’t go unnoticed by me. I have too much going on in my life right now to give a shit about a runt like Ivan. He’s always been off, and I’m just waiting for him to fuck up bad enough that I finally have an excuse to get rid of him.
The rest of the shipments look fine, luckily nothing was missing from crates we did have so Roman goes with Gregory to make sure they make it to their destination, since clearly no one else is fucking capable.
Gregory is one of the only other men I trust besides my brothers.
He married Andrei’s eldest daughter Katerina, and he was quickly accepted into his family.
Since Andrei has no sons, he had the responsibility of finding capable men to marry his daughters off to who he could trust to step up when it’s his time to step down.
Andrei was always hoping one of us three would marry his other daughter Lyra, and I’m sure Roman will snake his way into being the one chosen so he can try to take over as their family head. Gregory doesn’t want that responsibility, especially with a toddler at home.
“So have you spoken to wifey?” Maxim asks with a sneer, looking at me as I drive.
My grip on the wheel tightens. “No, in case it wasn’t obvious, we don’t exactly send cute Snapchats or text for fun.” My eyes don’t leave the road in front of me.
“Yeah, but the dinner is tomorrow, right? Don’t you both need to practice your acting skills and get a story straight?”
“No, I’ll create the story and she can just go along with it. No need for a whole briefing, it isn’t espionage.”
He laughs at my bitter joke. “Fine, fine. But I did hear from a birdie she’s moved herself into the Plaza until the wedding. I wonder why . . . ” he asks, trailing off trying to think of the answer.
“Birdie who? Roman?” I turn my head, and he just nods.
“You know him, he has eyes everywhere and pockets all the information for a rainy day.”
My jaw clenches as I think of why she’d be staying there. Her family has a huge mansion on the Upper East Side, and she never left it, even for college.
“Maybe you should just ask her if you’re so curious. She seemed really hurt about her dad when I talked to her that night she came over, so maybe she wanted out of his place.”
Hurt? More like being a brat and throwing a hissy fit, getting the best room with daddy’s card to teach him a lesson.
“She’ll get over it.”
Maxim sighs, and I turn my head. “I think you guys have been fighting and hating each other so long you’ve both forgotten the other is a real person with feelings.”
Sure, she has feelings. Her rage probably overshadows the rest though, but I’m not an idiot. She’s the one who uses her anger to cover her other emotions, and if that’s how she wants to be, then I don’t care to dig deeper. It just makes this easier anyway.
“I don’t have feelings, Max, there’s no time for that anymore.”
He’s silent when I say this, but I know he’s thinking of a million ways to tell me I’m lying to myself.
Max was the one who helped me pick up the pieces after Sara.
He watched us from the beginning; falling in that pure kind of love that is full of nothing but happiness.
He watched how much she adored me, how she’d follow me like a puppy and eventually broke down every barrier I had created.
I can’t think of any moment where she looked at me and wasn’t smiling like a fool.
Except one.
He saw what happened to me when she was killed, the way my entire life shattered before my eyes in just a single, cruel moment. It changed me fundamentally, realizing my father was right about not being a love-struck fool.
If I was smart, I would have believed him.
His own love was driven away with the reality of this world and I still let myself fall.
It was a harsh reminder of what I was doing wrong.
I shouldn’t have loved her. I didn’t deserve anyone like her in my life and I knew I’d break her, and still I selfishly kept her.
I let her fog my mind with whimsy and let my guard down and it got her killed.
That’s what happens when you love someone, and I won’t let Giselle fog my mind the way I know she could.