Chapter Eleven Vladimir
Two weeks after leaving New Orleans, we pull into the Port of St. Petersburg.
The trip was uneventful except for two milestones.
I bid farewell to my father as we tossed him overboard into the Atlantic Ocean.
He’ll either drown or the sharks will get him first; I didn’t care which.
However, I did feel some remorse for the poor sharks.
They’ll likely get a bad case of indigestion.
I sent a text to Hex letting him know that our father was no longer a problem that either of us had to deal with going forward.
The other milestone was Alexi’s full recovery.
As Russia came into view, Alexi stood at the guardrail, watching.
“What are you going to do?” I ask him.
He looks at me in surprise. “Is this where we part ways?”
I shake my head. “No, not necessarily. It’s up to you. My father rented a room at the Grand Hotel. I changed it to a suite. There are three bedrooms. You’re welcome to come with us and stay there. I rented rooms on the floor below us for my men.”
Alexi glances back at the cityscape before turning back to me. “I’d like to stay with you for a while. I need to think.”
We disembarked from the ship and left my men to gather our belongings and bring everything to the hotel.
I trusted them to handle everything. The ship would remain docked until I decided whether to return on it or fly back to America.
The presence of the ship wouldn’t go unnoticed.
Alexandr would hear about our arrival and expect a visit or at least a phone call.
He’ll be expecting my father, instead of me, though.
I’ll need to be careful in how I handle the meeting.
Killing a Bratva leader is not something they take lightly.
However, I’m confident Alexandr will accept my reasoning.
He may be the head of the Bratva, but he’s someone who understands the importance of love and loyalty.
The limo eased to a smooth stop beneath the arched entrance of the Grand Hotel, its polished facade rising like a monument to old St. Petersburg wealth and power.
Through the tinted glass, I caught sight of door attendants already moving, their coats crisp, their expressions carefully neutral. Nothing here is ever left to chance.
Alexi shifted beside me, his jaw tight, eyes alert despite the lingering pallor that still clung to him. Dominic leaned back across from us, one arm draped casually along the seat, though I knew better than to mistake his posture for ease. We were all watching. Measuring.
The door opened, and cold morning air rushed in, sharp and clean.
A man stepped forward immediately—tall, silver-haired, impeccably dressed.
The hotel manager. He greeted us by name, his Russian smooth and deferential, and personally ushered us inside as if we were expected guests rather than men returning to a city that might still want us dead.
The lobby gleamed with marble and gold accents, chandeliers throwing warm light over plush carpets that muffled our footsteps. Guests glanced up, curious but discreet, as we passed. Power recognizes power. Even here.
We took a private elevator to the upper floors, the manager chatting softly about amenities and views. When the doors opened, he led us into a sprawling three-bedroom suite that overlooked the city: high ceilings, dark wood, thick drapes—luxury designed to reassure and impress.
A long table in the living area was already set. Bottles of vodka and whiskey rested in crystal buckets, condensation beading along the glass. Champagne waited on ice. Platters of fresh fruit, pastries, smoked fish, and warm blini filled the room with rich, comforting scents.
“Compliments of the hotel,” the manager said, smiling thinly, before excusing himself.
Alexi exhaled slowly. Dominic gave a low whistle.
I didn’t join them. I crossed the room to the window and pushed aside the drapes. Below, the city was already awake—cars moving along wet streets, pedestrians bundled against the chill, St. Petersburg carrying on with business as usual.
For us, this is where everything begins or ends.
“Have you thought any more about what you’re going to do?” I ask Alexi without turning around.
“I want to find out who arranged for my kidnapping and hoped for my death,” Alexi clips. “After that, I don’t know. I feel like I can’t move forward until I know who wanted me dead and why.”
“You have no idea about the why?” Dominic asks. “You must know of someone who wanted you dead.”
Alexi let out a short, humorless laugh. It wasn’t amusement—it was exhaustion. He scrubbed a hand over his face and leaned back in his chair. “You’re going to need to be more specific.”
“That many?” Dominic asked.
“The list is long,” Alexi replied flatly. “Very long.”
I turn from the window to study him before taking a seat across the low table separating us. This wasn’t bravado or deflection. It was the reality of the life he’d been born into, one he’d never fully embraced but could never escape.
“It could be something small,” Alexi continued, his tone almost conversational.
“Revenge, for example. I once stole another man’s girlfriend.
He didn’t take it well.” His mouth twitched, but there was no real humor there.
“Or it could be business. Someone could be trying to take over the Bratva. Someone who thought removing me would create an opening.”
Dominic frowned. “You don’t think it was personal?”
Alexi shrugged. “Everything is personal in our world. That’s the problem.
Men remember slights for decades. A perceived insult.
A deal that didn’t go their way. A promotion they thought should have been theirs.
” He glanced between us. “I’ve said no to powerful people.
I’ve embarrassed others. I’ve blocked revenue streams. Pick a reason. ”
I shifted in my chair, tension settling deeper into my chest. “But the timing,” I said. “It feels deliberate.”
“It was deliberate,” Alexi agreed. “That doesn’t make it clear.” He leaned forward now, elbows on his knees, mirroring Dominic’s posture. “You’re assuming there’s a single reason. There doesn’t have to be.”
Silence stretched for a moment, broken only by the faint hum of traffic far below.
Alexi exhaled slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor before lifting again, sharp and focused. “Chasing motives will get us nowhere,” he said. “We could spend months digging through grudges and hypotheticals.”
He looked up at us then, eyes steady. “We’d have an easier time identifying who actually had the means to make me disappear.”
“It would help if we knew exactly where the abduction took place,” I say. “Have you remembered anything more about that day?’
Alexi shrugs. “I had a light breakfast that morning of coffee and toast. Nadia wasn’t happy that I didn’t have something heavier. I guess she complained to Igor when he went into the kitchen to bring it to me.”
“Nadia?” I ask.
“She’s like a house manager. She used to be my mother’s personal maid. After my mother’s death, my father offered her a position. She stayed and pretty much took over. Anya and I adore her.”
“And Igor?” Dominic asks.
“My father’s right hand. Igor has worked for my father since he turned eighteen. Igor’s father was one of my father’s lieutenants. He saved my father’s life multiple times. Which is why he asked Igor to come work for him.”
“Okay, so what happened after breakfast?”
“I did some work and then left the house to meet up for lunch. I walked to the nightclub rather than taking a car. It was a nice day, and I felt a little warm after being shut up in the house all morning.”
“And then what?” I press.
“And then, nothing. I can’t remember what happened after leaving the house. I think I walked a block or two, but I just can’t remember.”
“What if you were to rewalk the path?” Dominic asks. “Do you think you might remember more?”
“I don’t think it would hurt to try.”
So many eyes out there, and St. Petersburg remembers its own.
I don’t think anyone is looking for Alexi, but what if someone recognizes him?
After two weeks on the ship, he doesn’t look like the man who had last walked these streets with unquestioned authority.
The sharp angles of his face were softened now, partially hidden behind a beard he’d never worn before. It changed him more than I expected.
The beard gave him anonymity. Weight. Distance from the past.
With it, he looked startlingly like Dominic.
Dominic, who had grown his own beard during the weeks on the ship, the harsh sea air and long days stripping away any reason to bother shaving.
Side by side, they could have passed for twins—same white-blonde hair, same darker blonde beards, same tall, solid build.
If someone glanced too quickly, they’d see one and think of the other. Or neither.
That thought gave me ideas. Their similarities gave Alexi another layer of protection.
Taking out my phone, I call Alexandr.
“Maxim, I heard your ship had docked. I heard about your son, I’m very sorry,” Alexandr says when he accepts the call.
“I’m not Maxim. I’m his son, Vladimir,” I respond.
Alexandr sucks in a breath. “You’re still alive? That’s great news. What happened? Why did I hear that you were a victim of a hit?”
“It’s a long story and one I want to tell you. I was hoping we could schedule a meeting to discuss the situation.”
“Is your father with you?”
“No, he was unable to make the trip. I can tell you more when we meet.”
Alexandr stays silent for several beats before speaking. “I’m sorry to hear he couldn’t make it. I’ll be interested in hearing what you have to tell me. If you could meet me at my home in three hours, you can join me for lunch.”
“I would be honored,” I tell him before ending the call.
Returning to the living area, I find Dominic looking over the room service menu. “Hungry?” he asks.
My stomach growls in response, causing Alexi and Dominic to chuckle. “I am, but make it a small meal. I just got off the phone with Alexandr. I’m joining him for lunch.”
Alexi’s head snaps in my direction, and I see the yearning on his face. “You can’t go with me. He’ll recognize you.”
“I know,” Alexi says, dejected.
“He could accompany us in the car and wait outside,” Dominic suggests.
“I’d like to go, but I want to walk the same route I took that day. I want to see if I can remember more about that day,” Alexi says.
I consider the suggestion, almost shoot it down, then reconsider. “Don’t go alone. Take two of my men with you.”