“They already do. Might as well get things done.”
“Suspecting you and having proof are entirely different. This will get you killed. You should stay away from the Italians for some time, until we at least know what Vladimir is up to.”
“You know full well that I don’t have time.”
“You could carve some.”
“Time is like a ticking bomb; the more I wait, the faster I’m heading to the end.”
He sighs heavily, running his hand over his light hair.
“What is it, Kolya? If you have something to say, say it.”
“Remember when that man tried to kill you some time ago? We ran after him, accompanied by Damien and Kirill, but then we found him dead?”
“Yes.” I could never forget the only assassination attempt that my system failed to identify. Usually, I’d find the perpetrator and make an example out of them. Not that time, though. Not only the mercenary who was sent out to kill me was shot in the nape, but we also found evidence of someone removing the bullet from him.
“I have a premonition that the past will be repeated and the solution will be murdered before our eyes.”
“Since when have you become superstitious?”
“Since then.” His voice is hard, and while I know his concerns are genuine, I’m also certain that if I don’t take a step now, everything will fall like a house of cards.
“We’ll do the meeting on Igor's birthday.” I tap my fingers on the table. “We’ll make it seem normal. If I convince Lazlo Luciano to give us an in with his mayoral candidate, it’ll appease Sergei.”
“You can play your trump card.”
“No,” I say firmly.
“But it’s desperate times.”
“I said no, Kolya, and that’s final.”
He thins his lips but stops himself from spouting any more nonsense.
That’s one of Kolya’s best qualities. He knows when to stay quiet and when to talk.
My gaze slides back to the monitor as I notice some movement. Lia wraps her arms tightly around Jeremy to the point that he squirms awake. My entire body turns rigid and I’m about to go there until Jeremy breaks out in giggles as she tickles his stomach.
My body relaxes a little, but I keep watching them as she helps him put on his coat and wraps a scarf around his neck before she throws on her own coat and they head outside. I navigate through the hallway camera, then the stairs, following their every move.
Soon enough, they head to the gazebo in the garden. There’s a camera there, but I watch them through the window instead. I see Yan, who’s standing at a corner of the gazebo, posture relaxed but alert.
Jeremy and Lia are still struggling to build his war zone, or more like, she’s struggling. It’s the hundredth attempt, and Jeremy keeps bringing her one model after the other, wanting them all done.
Her brows draw together with concentration and she huffs a breath in frustration when it doesn’t work. She has absolutely no patience, which is why she manages to get herself a punishment—or few—every night. She still talks back and spouts things, even when she knows full well that it will get her in trouble. Sometimes, I see the regret, but other times, her expression says without words, ‘Fuck it, it’ll happen anyway, so why delay it?’
After a few failed attempts, Lia calls for Yan, who joins them. She motions at the bench, probably inviting him to sit, but he shakes his head once.
So she stands up, grabs him by the hand, and drags him to the seat beside her. Yan’s alert gaze meets mine through the window, and I’m about ready to go out there and beat him to a pulp.
I know it’s not his fault, that she did it, but my brain can’t look past her hand on his. Her hand is on his.
As if sensing my murderous plans, Yan swiftly pulls away, but that doesn’t extinguish the fire that’s burning holes in my chest.
Staring him down, I motion at him to get the fuck up, and he immediately starts to comply, but Lia places a hand on his knee, forcing him to stay.
That’s it. I’m going to kill him.
I tilt my head to the side and motion at him to leave. In that moment, Lia turns around and faces me, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed, then she mouths, “Stop it.”
Me, stop it?
I retrieve my phone and type her a text.
Adrian: Get in here.
She stares at her screen for a second, her lips pursing further before she types back at rapid-fire speed.
Lia: No. I’m playing with Jeremy.
Adrian: That’s three, Lenochka.
Her eyes widen and she meets my gaze through the window.
Lia: I did nothing wrong today.
Adrian: You touched Yan twice and you just refused a direct order. Three.
Lia: You’re impossible.
Adrian: I will show you how impossible I can truly become if you don’t get in here in the next minute.
Lia glares at me through the window, her temper rising with every second before she types.
Lia: No.
Adrian: Then tell Yan to come.
A frown etches her delicate brow.
Lia: Why?
Adrian: So he can pay for touching you.
Lia: He didn’t do it. I did.
Adrian: Doesn’t matter.
The fact that she’s defending him makes his case worse, and the more she takes Yan’s side, the deeper his grave gets.
Lia: You need help, okay?
Adrian: And that’s four.
Lia jerks upright, throwing her phone beside Jeremy. He stares up at her with unsure eyes, but soon smiles when she kisses his cheeks and probably tells him she won’t be long.
Yan stands as well, but remains by Jeremy’s side.
Kolya, who must’ve witnessed the entire thing, gets to his feet and grabs his laptop. “I’ll be in the annex if you need me.”
“What?” I ask when he doesn’t attempt to go.
“Why do you keep Yan as her guard when you don’t trust him around her?”
“I’m testing him.”
“You’re breaking him in.”
“Same thing.”
“Still.”
“Stop spoiling him, Kolya. He’s not a kid anymore. In fact, he’s more cunning and works under the surface deeper than you’re blinded to see.”
“You’re only saying that because he’s close to Mrs. Volkov.”
“And you’re only defending him because you refuse to recognizes what he’s turned into. Can’t you see it?”
He frowns. “See what?”
“Yan is not the little kid who used to follow you around wherever you went.”
He pauses as if he wants to say something, but thinks better of it, nods, and leaves.
I click my monitors shut and head to my minibar to pour myself a glass of cognac on ice. By the time I settle back into my chair, the door opens not so gently as a furious Lia barges inside and slams it shut behind her.
Taking my time, I drink her in. She removed the coat and is wearing a light pink dress that flattens against the curve of her breasts and waist before falling to her knees. Her cheeks are red, her lips pursed, accentuating the cut from when she bit them to the point of drawing blood.
That will change.
Sooner or later, that habit will disappear.
Sooner or later, she’ll be completely mine. Literally. Figuratively. In every sense of the word.