18 | Right Through to Your Heart

"VIKTOR..." SERGEI TRAILED OFF, THE disdain in his voice just barely hidden.

My father's eyes travelled to each of us in turn, a sinister amusement glittering behind them. He let the silence drag on for a few minutes and I knew that was one of his tactics. He knew exactly how to make people feel uncomfortable.

"We weren't expecting you home so early," I observed casually, pulling out a cigar. Though my father was a master manipulator, I'd hardened to his methods over the years. He'd taught me to keep my composure and my cool, but only when necessary. He also taught me how to let anger fill my every sense, to let my veins flood with relentless fire. The difficulty came in balancing both—but not around him.

Viktor stepped forward and took the cigar from my hand, placing it between his lips. "I completed my business faster than I expected," he shrugged gloatingly. "Can the same be said for you, Alexei?"

I saw Dmitry open his mouth, probably to admit that I'd tasked my men with the job, but Sergei's hand shot out to stop him. Dmitry was the greenest of my men, whereas Sergei had been with me for years. He knew that letting my men take the fall was the worst thing I could do.

"We encountered some logistical issues in China," I explained, striking a match to light my father's cigar. That was just the sort of respect he commanded. "Santo's transporter may have turned." Part of me hated reeling off information I hadn't verified myself but I'd been too tied up with other business this week to check. I realised now that was a mistake. If this deal didn't go through and we didn't get our cut, I'd never have the funds for my own ventures.

"Hmm." Viktor breathed out a plume of smoke from his cigar and kept his eyes flitting between us. He knew something we didn't, and he was enjoying it. "I just got off the phone with Santo myself," he said with an evil smirk. "He told me that he didn't recognise the man he spoke with, said he kept trying to push for a better deal than we agreed on." And just like that my blood turned to ice in my veins. I didn't need a name to know it was Dmitry who'd pulled that little stunt.

I heard Sergei let out a low growl which only confirmed my suspicions. Suddenly I wasn't treading water—I was drowning. Everything that could possibly have gone to shit, had.

When I opened my mouth to speak Viktor cut me off. "Care to explain why you had these boys take care of your dirty work for you?" he snarled. At last his anger was beginning to show through. I'd fucked up, big time, and now I was going to pay.

I knew enough to meet my father's gaze when I responded, "I asked my men to take care of the matter while I focused on more important business."

Viktor chuckled lowly and more smoke protruded from his mouth like flames from hell. "More important?" he requested. "More important than ninety thousand pounds' worth of cocaine? More important than our business associates we have worked with for years?"

"Santo's business is stagnant. His coke is low quality and our contacts are losing interest."

"My contacts!" He bellowed furiously. "In my business!" I ground my teeth and prepared for the onslaught that was sure to follow. "Go on then, what was it you were doing that was so god damn important, boy?"

I couldn't tell him the truth. If I did, everything I'd worked for would be pointless. It would be gone before it had even materialised—just barely in my grasp but so close. The truth was that I'd been touring some real-estate. Because when Viktor finally crumbled and handed the reigns to me, I was going to destroy every illegal income he'd ever procured. No more drugs, no more trafficking, no more weapons. No more prostitution or murders. No more hit men or pimps. We were going legal if I had anything to say about it; hotels and bars, clubs and resorts. Accountants. Charities. Horse racing. Anything and everything I could get my hands on—I was going to build an empire. This time, it would be on my terms.

I'd already transformed an old parking block into a club which had grossed over ten thousand on the first night alone. Of course, I told my father there would be exclusive rooms for conducting business, but that was temporary. As soon as he was gone, so too would the drugs be. So too would all the hate and the rivals and the senseless violence.

"We had some issues at the club," I lied smoothly. "A few of my men were concerned the police had put it under surveillance."

Viktor's eyes narrowed. "And have they?"

"No. A couple of squad cars were seen in the area recently but they were carrying out routine speed checks. I had to stop a few investors from panicking and pulling out. You know how they get."

My father nodded slowly but I could see from the wicked glint in his eyes that he wasn't done yet. He took the cigar from his mouth and jabbed it suddenly at Dmitry. "You," he snarled and Dmitry's eyes widened with fear. "Fixing investors doesn't take a whole week, does it?" Viktor shook his head in answer to his own question while Dmitry continued to look stricken and terrified. He really wasn't presenting me in the best light. Even Sergei shot me a weary glance that I didn't fail to catch. "So, Dmitry. Care to tell me any other reasons Alexei might have had for leaving all the hard work to you?"

I watched as Yury's jaw clenched in annoyance and Sergei took a deep breath. They had both been with me for a very long time—they knew how to tell when Viktor had picked out a weak spot in our operation. And right now, that weak spot was Dmitry. He was too green. I'd let him come up too soon. I realised it now but it was already too late. If he put a foot out of line, we'd all be done for. My men and I waited with bated breath for his response.

"I don't ask questions of the boss," Dmitry shrugged. He seemed to have gained some confidence—I let out a sigh of relief. Even if him calling me the boss would piss my father off endlessly. "I don't know what he was doing. I just presumed it was important."

"I see." I could tell from the flash in his eyes that he didn't see at all, but I wasn't about to point that out. Viktor ruled his men by fear, and with an iron fist. My tactics played on loyalty—something you could never bully someone into having. Eventually, after appraising Dmitry for a moment longer, Viktor turned to me. "I take it you won't be joining us for a family dinner this evening, Alexei?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and shook my head firmly. "No."

"Your poor mama..."

"Send her my regards," I said flatly.

I hadn't attended one of our stupid family dinners in years. I spent plenty of time at home, of course, but only when my father wasn't around. My mother and brothers meant the world to me. There was nothing I wouldn't do for them. But whenever my father was around conversation inevitably turned to business. Home was the one place I wanted a reprieve from that.

Viktor nodded to each of my men in turn—except Dmitry—before turning to exit the room. Sergei, Yury and I watched him go with ice in our veins from the encounter. Dmitry, however, turned to me with a flash of annoyance in his eyes, "this is all the fault of that girl."

If there had been a chill in me before, I shattered the moment I saw my father pause half way out of the door. Sergei's fists clenched and he fixed his glare to Dmitry but none of us dared move in that moment. I barely remembered how to breathe.

Viktor rounded on Dmitry in a second and pressed the end of his cigar to the breast pocket of Dmitry's shirt. It smouldered and I could see he was in pain. "What did you say?" Viktor demanded.

"I—"

"Word for word," my father interrupted, grinding the cigar in harder. "Say it again."

Dmitry's eyes flickered to mine and I felt my jaw tick angrily. He was going to sing like a fucking song bird. We all knew it. Even when he glanced to Sergei and then Yury who both shook their heads. He was going to fucking talk.

"I—I said, um—" he swallowed hard as if the sentence was stuck in his throat, "—I said that this is all the fault of that girl."

Viktor leaned in closer until he and Dmitry were almost nose-to-nose. "What girl?" he hissed. A sick smile of pleasure crept over his face as he kept on grinding the cigar harder and harder.

"The doctor!" Dmitry exploded as his shirt finally burnt away exposing skin.

"You better tell me some more than that, kid, or I'll burn right through to your heart."

"He's paying her! To—to be our doctor or something, I—" Dmitry's incessant rambling earned him a punch to the gut that knocked the air out of his stupid fucking lungs. I couldn't believe this.

"Name," Viktor demanded.

Dmitry's eyes flashed to mine and the death look I gave him should have destroyed his soul. He quickly shook his head. "I don't know!" he pleaded. "I don't know!"

With one last grind of the cigar my father released Dmitry who stumbled away. If he'd had a tail, it would have been right between his fucking legs. I was glad he hadn't released Grace's name, but I had a feeling it was only because he couldn't remember it. Idiot.

Viktor turned to me with a pointed glare. He threw the end of his cigar on the floor and crushed it with his expensive shoe. It was a show of dominance. It was a show that said you're not ready. When he cocked a brow at me I knew what that meant too. He'd been giving me the same disdainful glare my whole life.

"Leave us," I told the others sharply. Then, as Dmitry passed, I grabbed his forearm and squeezed it until I could see the shadow of pain on his face. "We'll talk later," I warned. He nodded and then we were alone.

I strode over to the decanter and poured myself a tumblr of whisky. Most of my men drank vodka, but scotch had a special place in my heart. Liquid courage. At this rate I'd need the whole fucking bottle.

I heard Viktor's voice before I felt him right behind me. "Who is she?"

I knocked back my first drink and poured another. "Does it matter?" This time I turned with the drink in my hand so I could face him. His expression was so dark I could tell he was already formulating some plan. I couldn't let him get to Grace. He'd sooner kill her than learn to trust that she wouldn't talk. "She's a woman who needed a job. We needed a doctor. Problem solved."

He seemed to study me very closely. "Is that all?"

"Da."

(Yes)

Viktor's silence resonated around the room. He pursed his lips and leaned past me to pour a large tumblr of vodka. He'd always been a big drinker, but of late I noticed it more and more. The red cheeks, the unpredictability, the shaky hands. Rumours were starting to circulate about Viktor Ivanov. Rumours that could put me exactly where I wanted to be.

"You are going soft, boy." It wasn't the first time I'd been told and it wouldn't be the last. "That man who just sang like a bird—Dmitry—he shouldn't have walked out of here. He should have crawled. He should have been begging for you to let him drag himself with broken arms out of that god damn door."

I took a sip of whisky. "That's you, not me," I said pointedly. "He's one of my men, so it's my job to deal with him."

"And you will?"

"As I see fit," I snapped. I was just about sick of being told how to run my end of things. My father and I had different ways of doing things and I could tell it irritated him that I'd never come around to his way of thinking. Even when he forced me into it. Even when he beat it into me.

"One day, son," Viktor began, "when you have a family to protect, you will understand."

I almost scoffed. The only thing that saved me from doing so was the thought that I might not leave this room in one piece if I did. The fact was that my father was wrong. I wasn't going to have a family in his world. I wasn't going to drag anyone into this life, willing or otherwise. I couldn't do it.

"Is the issue with Santo resolved?" I changed the subject.

"No thanks to your men. I spoke with him earlier."

"And the deal?" I requested.

"As it stood." Viktor glanced down to the liquid in his glass contemplatively for a moment. His eyes seemed heavy when they looked back up, but malicious somehow. "This girl. She needs getting rid of."

I'd had a feeling he might say that but it didn't stop my stomach bottoming out when he did. Somehow I thought I'd have been able to keep Grace from him, at least for a while. Give her time to prove her worth. Or time to get the hell out of the country. Now it was too late and refuting my father's wishes would be no less than an act of war.

"She can be trusted," I argued honestly. It wasn't enough, so I tacked on, "I trust her."

"You shouldn't. Women can't be trusted."

"She knows what would happen if she were to rat." Even as I said it I was running through a thousand ways to get Grace out of harms way, a thousand ways to help her flee. Once Viktor caught onto a scent he was like a damn bloodhound. And he was always, always, out for blood.

At my words his brows bunched low over his forehead, contrasting with the sly smile that played on his mouth. "So she already knows too much."

"She knows just enough. She doesn't know what we do, but she's probably guessed it isn't totally legal." I was playing her down, I knew. She was smart—probably too smart for her own damn good. And she was on to us, even if I didn't want to admit it. On to me.

"Alexei—"

"She's not going anywhere." I rarely argued with Viktor but for some reason the thought of him getting to someone so innocent in this whole mess made me angry. "You can't get rid of her."

"I can do as I please," he said, amusement twinkling in his eyes. "And I will."

"No."

"Excuse me?" The indignation and rage in his voice was clear but I paid it no heed. I was too consumed by my own anger that licked through my veins like fire. All I could picture was that innocent girl I met at the hospital who helped me escape. She had no idea. Has no idea. Not about the real me, not this world, none of it. She was too kind for her own fucking good and now she was going to wind up getting killed for it.

"I won't let you hurt her," I warned. "She's innocent." I'd seen far too many innocent people thrown under the bus by my father as I grew up. Far too many destroyed at his hands. So when I got older, I decided that I would never be like that. I'd never just stand by and let it happen.

I couldn't.

"And she means nothing to you? She's just an employee?" Viktor mocked. He shook his head reprovingly. "My, my, boy. You really should learn a better poker face."

The muscle in my jaw twitched involuntarily when he called me boy but I managed to keep my cool. I was twenty three years old, for Christ's fucking sake. And he knew that. He knew exactly how to get to everyone—especially his own children.

"She doesn't deserve to die," I ground out flatly.

Viktor knocked back the rest of his drink like it was water and held the tumblr out to me expectantly. He'd always had a way of appearing better, higher, more sophisticated than anyone else. So usually he got his way. That was what I was expected to become; the all-powerful mafia boss who could do anything and see anyone. Who didn't ask for respect, but commanded it.

But that just wasn't who I was.

"I'll cut you a deal, Alexei," Viktor said as I poured us each another drink. "You keep her around, and see how she does. Either she talks—" he took the glass from me and drank deeply, "—or she doesn't. But if she does..." he trailed off, smirking.

"What?" I demanded.

"If she talks, Alexei, then you're going to be the one to kill her."

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