17 | Damage Control

MY FIRST WEEK ON THE job passed surprisingly quickly. For the first few days, I was flooded by Alexei's men who all seemed eager to see me for one reason or another. It looked like they hadn't had access to any form of medical care for a while—I treated everything from the common cold and tonsillitis to infected wounds and sprains. What struck me was the lack of severity of the injuries I saw. As yet, there had been no broken bones or bullet holes—but I knew that couldn't hold out much longer.

So far, I'd got to know quite a few of Alex's men. Even those who weren't sick occasionally stopped by to use the recreational half of the room, where there was a TV, a PlayStation and, surprisingly, several board games. Often they'd chat to me while I worked, or they'd ask me to join them in a game of cards or monopoly.

There was Vadim, Alexei's personal driver who brought me to and from work whenever required. He and I engaged in light conversation but he never came down to where I worked—I figured he was too busy and didn't need down-time as much as the others. The three men I noticed frequenting the lounge most often were Sergei, Dmitry and Yury. The longest time I had ever been downstairs alone was around an hour—the rest of the time, one of those three were there. Almost like Alex had them on a rota to keep an eye on me.

I could already distinguish between their personalities quite easily; Sergei seemed to have an aura of authority about him which the others did not, or at least not to the same extent. Yet he was always kind to me, in a serious way. He'd taught me a couple of card games and had promised, at some point, to teach me poker. Dmitry was the most serious and callous of the three. Though he wasn't outwardly unpleasant, I could tell he didn't appreciate my presence in the same way that the others did. He would greet me when he first came down but other than that conversation seemed to be a no-go. He didn't strike me as the type for idle chit chat. Yury was  the joker. He hardly had a serious word to say—unlike Sergei—and managed to make me laugh harder than I had done in months.

In this flurry of new people I had met, there was one stark absence. I hadn't seen Alexei since my first day on the job. I knew he was a busy guy, but it bothered me that he hadn't stopped by even once. How was I supposed to know if I was doing a good enough job? How was I supposed to find out any answers to the questions I'd thought of during my first week at work? Deep down, though, I knew my feelings weren't related to my job in the slightest. I just wanted to see him again. To hear his gruff voice and remind myself that he wasn't just a figment of my imagination.

While Yury kept me entertained during our time together, Sergei acted almost like a therapist. Or at the very least a friend. He asked me about my life. We talked about my dad and how difficult it was coping with his injuries—we talked about Jonah and how uncertain our relationship currently was. But after a week passed, I was growing tired of hearing my own voice. I was sick of hearing my own life story. So I decided to change things up. If I wanted to know where Alexei was, or why I hadn't seen him, why didn't I just ask?

"It's been a busy week," I commented to Sergei as he sipped on a glass of scotch with his feet up on the coffee table. That was one thing I'd noticed about almost all of Alexei's men—they had a perpetual glass of alcohol in their hands.

Sergei watched me lazily as I wiped down the surfaces of the medical room. "We haven't had a Doctor here in a while," he said amusedly. "Let alone one like you."

I blushed at the implication of his comment. "Well, a lot of them seemed to have more domestic problems than physical ones," I laughed. "Do you know how many times I've been asked for marriage advice this week?"

"How many?"

"Literally every day." Sergei chuckled. "I'm serious. And it's like half of them are making up illnesses just to get some therapy time."

"In our work, we have access to a lot of beautiful women," he explained, "but none who aren't..."

"Prostitutes?" I asked with a roll of my eyes.

"Something like that."

"Hmm."

"You should be flattered. They clearly like you, Grace." My attention spiked then as I realised this was my chance. If I was subtle, I could bring the issue up in just the right way...

"That's the thing," I sighed, setting my cloth down and wiping my hands on my jeans. "I just don't know if I'm doing a good job."

"Trust me, you are."

"But how do you know?" I pressed.

"Because I just do."

"Has Alexei told you that?" My brow raised just a hitch and a smirk formed on Sergei's face. He set his tumbler down on the coffee table and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"So that's what this is about," he chuckled. "The boss."

"What?" I blushed. "No, it's just—"

"Sure, sure," Sergei interrupted. He was practically howling with laughter now, his whole face lighting up. Locks of his sandy blonde hair fell into his eyes as his head shook, making him appear more carefree than I'd ever seen him before.

Still, his laughter made me angry. "Stop it," I growled frustratedly. When it only got worse, I couldn't help myself—I picked the cloth up off the side and prepared to launch it in Sergei's direction. "I swear to god—" I hissed, but I never got the chance to finish that sentence. At the precise moment I launched the cloth at Sergei, the door opened and a heart stoppingly familiar figure stepped into the room.

Alexei's stone cold glare watched as a damp cloth hit one of his men square in the face. For a moment, Sergei did not notice the presence of his—our—boss, and so his laughter continued as he reeled back and prepared to shoot the cloth back to me. "Little shit," he smirked but my eyes widened considerably as I shook my head.

"Don't," I mouthed silently. Realisation dawned on his face. Slowly he lowered the cloth.

"If you are both quite finished," Alexei said icily. I pursed my lips and sank down onto a chair obediently. "Sergei," he continued once enough silence had passed to make me feel uncomfortable, "we have business to attend. I'll meet you there in five."

When Alex inclined his head towards the door Sergei nodded and got to his feet. "See you later, Grace," he said and I saw Alex's jaw tick.

I stared down at my hands in my lap to avoid acknowledging that my boss and I were now alone. This is what I'd wanted all week, wasn't it? The chance to see him? And now I couldn't even look up.

The door clicked shut behind Sergei and I let out a slow, deep exhalation. Alexei broke our silence first. "It's Friday, Grace," he said flatly. He was leaned against the door, hands in pockets, eyes turned up to the ceiling. He looked exhausted.

"I'm aware."

"You've been here all week."

"Is that a problem?" I wondered, genuinely confused. Any regular boss would have been happy to see an employee with such a good work ethic. Evidently, Alex wasn't a regular boss.

Slowly, he let out a deep breath and opened his eyes, dragging them from the ceiling to me. "Don't you have a life outside of work?"

"Well, yes..." I practically squirmed under his gaze. Everything about him was just so intense. "But I thought—"

"I told you that you only had to be here when required," he interrupted coldly. "Did I not, Miss Perne?"

"Yes, but you also didn't say I wasn't allowed to be here at any point."

From his pocket he drew a pack of cigarettes, slipping one between his lips. "Go home, Grace," he murmured around it.

I was transfixed by the muffled sound of his voice and the movement of his lips around the cigarette—until he pulled out a lighter. "You can't smoke in here," I said I quickly and he raised a brow. "It's important for the operating theatre," I tacked on.

"Well." Alex glared at me but didn't remove the cigarette. He also didn't light it. "Go home to your father. We'll call if you're needed."

"Um, okay."

Grabbing my bag from on the side, I could feel Alexei's eyes following me across the room. He had a cold, firm gaze that made him look like he was always thinking about something. As if every move he made was calculated—and every move anyone else made was scrutinised equally. He spoke when I reached for the door, "Vadim is waiting for you."

"Okay." I pulled the it open and paused. "Alexei?" He raised a brow in response, annoyance clouding his expression. "Do you think I could drive myself here next time?"

"No."

"But—"

His eyes flashed dangerously, "did I stutter?"

"I just wanted to know why," I shot back. "There was no need to be an arse about it."

Alex's lips curled into a crooked smirk around his unlit cigarette. "Did you just call me an arse?"

I could never tell how he was going to react to things. Right now he seemed amused, but if I said yes, would that change? His mood was never stable. It left me playing a constant guessing game. Eventually I settled on, "I said you were being an arse."

"That's an interesting way to speak to your boss," he noted.

"It's hard to speak to you like a boss when you don't behave like one," I snapped. "You could at least give me a reason as to why—"

"Because it's dangerous," he interrupted. "Because the second someone notices your car coming in and out of this place, you become a point of interest, a target, for whoever is watching."

"And...who is watching?"

"That's for me to take care of." He reached for the door which I was still propping open and held it wider, gesturing for me to go. "Don't worry about it."

Still, I hesitated. "I hardly think anybody is going to be interested in some woman coming in and out of a dock yard—or whatever the hell this place is."

"I hardly think it's your place to question my judgement," Alexei growled, his jaw ticking with annoyance. I could see that he really was getting wound up now. "You don't have to trust me," he continued harshly, "you just have to obey me when I tell you that you're not to be seen driving here regularly. It's bad enough that your car has already been here once."

"So they could already be watching me," I said in a mock-serious voice, waving my hands in the air as if we were talking about aliens or something. I couldn't help but laugh at my own sense of humour but apparently Alex didn't share it.

"Go home, Grace," he sighed. "I won't tell you again."

Alexei | Grace

"Somebody better tell me we've made progress with this shipment," I growled, throwing open the door into our operations room. Sergei, Yury and Dmitry stared back at me like I'd just insulted their mothers. "Well?"

"Something got your back up, boss?" Yury grinned, slapping a hand on my shoulder companionably. I shot him a glare that could have killed someone of lesser courage. Or stupidity.

"I told you I wanted the issue sorted," I seethed, storming over to the table in the middle of the room and leaning against it. "Has it been?"

Sergei shot me a wary look that I knew meant no. "Boss, we're working on it—"

"So the answer is no," I cut him off sharply. "What am I supposed to tell Victor when he gets back here tomorrow? That my employees can't handle a simple task? How the fuck does that make me look?"

"There've been a few logistical issues," Dmitry piped in. He was always the most measured of my men and only spoke when he had something valuable to say. "Santo's come up with the goods but someone's been implementing tighter security checks at the port. It hasn't been confirmed but looks like Santo's transporter might have turned."

"He could be behind this?" I scoffed. All I needed was business going tits up in China just as my damn father was about to return. My hands tightened into fists around the table. "I thought you had this under control."

"With all due respect, Boss," Sergei began hesitantly, "Santo and his men prefer dealing with you or Victor. Maybe if you'd—"

I cut Sergei off by surging forward and wrapping my hand around his throat. I could feel his windpipe bending beneath my fingers as I pushed him back into the nearest wall. "Maybe," I seethed, "if when I asked you boys if you could handle it without me," my grip got tighter, "you should have said no."

"Alexei." Dmitry's hand landed on my shoulder, bringing me back to earth. I released Sergei who cleared his throat but looked unfazed. "We gain nothing from arguing about why this went wrong," Dmitry continued once it was apparent the situation had been diffused.

I rubbed a hand against my jaw tiredly, wondering how the hell we were going to get out of this one. "Viktor will be back tomorrow," I said.

"And if this hasn't gone through by then..." Sergei trailed off.

"We don't get our cut," Yury finished angrily. He was much shorter in height than the rest of us but he was a real spitfire; he appeared a joker on the surface but give him the opportunity and violence was his best friend. His anger issues almost surpassed my own. Almost.

My father, Viktor Ivanov, was a ruthless man. More greedy than J. Paul Getty, some would say, and he drove just as hard a bargain. That's what got us where we were today. But it didn't mean I wanted to be here.

I glanced to the wall of security monitors and spotted Vadim's car pulling out of the gates. I wanted Grace gone this weekend when my father came back. He didn't take well to women, though the first time he raised his hand to my mother was also his last. Kristina was the only woman in the world who could control him. She wasn't born into this life, but she certainly had the balls for it. It was just unfortunate that all of Viktor's subsequent frustrations had always been taken out on me. I couldn't imagine how he'd react if he found Grace in my employ.

"Boss," Sergei dragged me from my thoughts. "Would it be worth sending Viktor over there to sort the problem out personally? He's close by, after all, and—"

"What did you just suggest?" I snapped. "You think we should let him fix our problems? For what? So he can keep all the earnings? So he can hold it over me that I'm not fit to be in charge?" I scoffed. "I don't think so."

"At this rate there'll be no earnings if we don't do something soon," Sergei calmly responded. He strode over to the decanter of vodka on the table and poured himself a tumblr. "Right now it looks like we're in damage control. That means getting this deal to pull through irrespective of how we do that."

"Viktor is not being involved." And if anyone else pushed me on the issue I'd give them a fist to the jaw to remind them who was in charge around here.

Just then, the door into the operations room flew open and there stood the man himself. "Speak of the devil," Yury muttered darkly, but I shot him a silencing glare.

Viktor smiled evilly. "Not being involved in what, boys?"

Vote & Comment