35. Anastasia
ANASTASIA
Five days later, and one out from the Bratva’s engagement party, I’m spending the evening within one of the brothels.
Though each has management I once handpicked, I still prefer to cycle through them and ensure everything is up to standards.
It’s not only business that’s at stake here, but my employees’ well-being.
Most of the girls on staff are new hires, but a small handful remain from Ursin’s reign when their futures were much worse.
They’re the ones I monitor the closest. A visual sweep of the room counts two currently working.
After enduring what they had with Ursin, they chose to turn captivity into employment.
My cell rings with one of the bouncers’ names flashing on my screen, so I answer it immediately, hoping tonight will be easy and they’re not contacting me with any issues. Instead, he says, “A man calling himself Nero Amato is requesting to see you.”
Nero’s here—now? I push off the railing, heart pounding with all the same feelings that urged last week’s progress when I allowed him to touch me and became submissive beneath his fingers while ignoring the ghosts from my past. Since then, our texts have been brief and simple and only once mentioned the night we spent together.
“Let him in. Have the front staff lead him to my office.”
A moment later, he appears at the lip of the darkened hallway, gaze sweeping clinically over the room.
He passes over scantily-clad women in all stages of undress and performing acts with men, some in the open while others are hidden in specially designed alcoves.
Nothing holds his attention. My staff points at the staircase at the room’s farthest end, and then at me on the balcony that connects to the manager’s office and overlooks the room.
All that clinical scanning breaks with a wide, charming grin as long strides cross the room, weaving around the bar and by the guests and unoccupied women—some of whom turn to offer themselves to him.
He bypasses them all, reaches the stairs, and jogs up them until he’s standing on the second-to-final step.
Hair darkened by the falling snow outside is plastered to his cheeks. They melt onto his shoulders, and my gaze follows one in particular as it travels to his dark wash jeans.
“Permission to approach, Signorina Petrov?”
Playing along, I dip my head while my teeth sink into my bottom lip to hide my smirk. “Permission granted.”
He moves into my vicinity until Nero is all I smell, all I feel. His scent replaces the heavy perfume and musk of the club. He leans down to press a kiss to the corner of my mouth as his palm, warm despite the frosty temperatures outside, cups my other cheek.
“I’ve missed you.”
For once, I think a man is telling the truth.
“What are you doing here?”
“Again, I’ve missed you. You’re all I thought about this week. This mouth”—his thumb dips to press into my bottom lip—“the moans you imprinted in my room. You…everything about you. Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“Because this isn’t my house or studio.” I cast a pointed glance to the room below. “Besides, shouldn’t you be with Zeno and the others at the mansion?”
“I’ve seen you in your home, your studio, on stage, and in a nightclub.
I’ve been able to see all your sides, except one.
I want to see you in your element.” He pauses, lowering his hand to the railing beside mine.
“Since Van’s takeover, we’ve been watching you guys.
We knew what you did to the trafficking rings, saving and letting all those people go.
We know you opened up these clubs to replace the kind of money the rings were bringing in.
We also know you single-handedly did most of the legwork to save the women and get these places up and running.
” He brings his other arm on top of the railing, linking his fingers together as he leans over to scan the room.
“Be proud, Anastasia. Five minutes in this place, and I am.”
My heart cracks—or are those my boundaries?
The distinct shrill notification that comes from my phone cuts into the risky direction my thoughts were dipping to. A notification that sends me upright as I spot my manager, Sasha, running for the private back rooms.
In my drive to make these the safest places possible for the staff, Lev’s brilliance coded an entire app connected to the panic buttons in each of the back rooms. An app installed on the bouncers’ and managers’ work phones, specific to each club.
I shove away from the railing, practically pushing Nero aside in my rush. “Sorry, I have to deal with something.”
Without checking his reaction, I take off down the stairs. No man will ever distract me from the terrifying fact that a woman needs help or is in danger. I’m so fucking done having women hurt in the Bratva’s name.
Nero remains on my heels as I rush down the hallway of the private rooms, catching the last door on the right opening as Sasha and a bouncer slips inside.
At the same time, a woman clutching lacy lingerie streaks from the room and straight into Sasha’s arms. “I-I…he—”
The redheaded woman, Irina, gasps when spotting me coming up behind them. She barely spares Nero a glance, but I still shift to block him from view for her comfort while demanding, “What happened?” Who am I hurting?
“He…” She trails off, swallowing, turning her head into Sasha’s shoulder. “He didn’t pay for—he tried—”
“He tried things he didn’t pay for,” I summarize, not wanting her to recount the trauma unless necessary.
Her chin jerks in a rough nod. “He tried to pin me down. I managed to kick him and reach the panic button before he caught me again.”
“You did good.” I share a look with Sasha, confirming our thoughts are the same. It could have been worse if she didn’t reach the button. “Take her upstairs. You know what to do. I’ll deal with him.”
Sasha’s always taken care of the girls—now and then. There’s a reason she’s become manager of this place after staying on. She’s one of the strongest women I’ve come to know, and her care for the girls makes this job manageable.
Soldiers fight in the background, wiping out the rest of those who’ve been running this ring.
After the leader was taken out, I left them to fight so I could save the women we’re here for.
Lev stops walking at some point and pointedly looks away from the cage where five women huddle together.
One naked and four in dirty, ripped shifts.
I slide my gun into my waistband and knife back into my thigh holster and hold up my hands so they see I’m unarmed.
Three of the women are curled on the ground, holding one another, while two remain standing.
Only one is watching me, though, her ice-blond hair caked with mud and blood as frail, starved arms are wrapped around the other.
“You’re free. We’re getting you out of here. I vow that no one will hurt you again. Can I get your names?”
Defiance shines within the one watching me. A spirited woman they obviously never broke—small mercies.
Whoops and cheers come from the distance, and the shooting dies for silence. It means the men are all gone and another ring successfully taken control of.
“They’re gone,” I tell them. “You’re safe.”
Lev walks up beside me holding a stack of blankets. His head remains turned away for their modesty—because they’ve had none of that during their time here.
“Can I get your names?” I try again.
The defiant one tucks the girl to her side, flicks her hair, and replies, “Sasha. And…thank you.”
When Sasha urges Irina by us, the vision breaks.
She takes a robe from one of the other girls who noticed the commotion and waited at the end of the hallway.
Once Irina’s covered and out of listening distance, I poke my head inside the room.
The guest is struggling to pull on a pair of boxers, his face red and nose bleeding as my bouncer stands over him, knuckles a matching colour.
“You know where to take him.”
He hoists the limp man and drags him out into the hall and towards the mirror at the farthest end. He pries open the frame, revealing a hidden door—a room set aside specifically for concealing such penalties I didn’t want on any blueprint that the cops could dig up.
“You may as well go.” I wave a hand to Nero, who’s been hovering and watching. “I’ll be busy for a while.”
He catches the same hand, bringing it down to my side. In the reflection of the partially open mirror door the bouncer disappeared through, I watch the image we make.
“Let me come with you. Like I said, I want to know all parts.”
Old vulnerabilities slip into place, wrenching my hand away. “Go home and picture the woman in the ballet outfit or the dress from the other night.”
He steps to my other side, blocking our reflection and forcing me to see his determination straight on.
“You didn’t become an Elite because you were simply Vanessa’s closest friend.
I know you’re a fighter, Petrov. You proved it the minute we re-met, when you burst into the villa for her.
” He tilts my chin. “I’m not some weak asshole from your past. You and I are the same, and a bit of blood won’t scare me off.
When I said I want to know all of you, I meant all of you.
The woman I’ve met is only a fraction of the Bratva soldier I’ve been admiring for years. Allow me to meet her.”
They’re pretty words, sure, but disappointment is way too prevalent in my world.
“I protect the women here. I ensure what happened before doesn’t happen again.
We’re exclusive and careful who we allow in, but rich scum never could afford a dictionary that includes the word ‘no.’ So it’s my role to ensure they understand why they chose the wrong time to misunderstand those two letters. ”
My explanation is meant to push him away for both our protection, but Nero steps out of my way, gesturing to the mirror. “Then please, Signorina Petrov, lead the way.”