Page 15 of Arranged with Twins

Leo

T he bass vibrates through the floors of Onyx, one of my three Manhattan clubs, as I make my way through the crowd toward the VIP section.

The music is loud enough to discourage conversation while still allowing for business discussions, and the lighting creates pockets of privacy within the public space.

It’s perfect for the show I need tonight.

I’m not here for pleasure. I hardly ever am.

This appearance serves multiple purposes by showing strength to allies, reminding rivals that I remain active and visible, and demonstrating recent events haven’t rattled my operations.

In my world, perception often matters more than reality, and right now, I need everyone to see Leo Denisov as completely in control.

The crowd parts naturally as I move through the space, conversations pausing as people recognize me and adjust their behavior accordingly.

Some nod respectfully, others avert their eyes, and a few brave souls attempt to catch my attention with subtle gestures.

I acknowledge the appropriate people with minimal nods while ignoring the rest.

My usual table in the VIP section overlooks the main floor, providing excellent sightlines while maintaining separation from the general population. The security team knows to expect me tonight, and my drink arrives without being ordered. Scotch, neat, and the same brand I’ve preferred for years.

“Mr. Denisov.” The server, a young woman with professional composure, sets down the glass with practiced precision. “Is there anything else I can bring you this evening?”

“This is fine for now.” I settle into the leather banquette and scan the room methodically, noting familiar faces and cataloging new ones. “Send word to Ilya that I’m ready for his briefing when he arrives.”

She nods and disappears, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the steady pulse of music that irritates me tonight.

The solitude doesn’t last long. Within minutes, I notice movement at the edge of my peripheral vision as someone approaches the table.

Tanya Mackey slides into the seat across from me without invitation, her smile bright and predatory.

I know Tanya from previous encounters spanning back several years. She’s beautiful in an obvious way, with platinum blonde hair and curves displayed to maximum advantage in an expensive dress. She’s also intelligent, connected, and useful when I need companionship for certain social functions.

What she isn’t is someone I want to see tonight.

“Leo.” Her voice carries a sultry undertone that once might have interested me. “I heard you were here. It’s been too long.”

“Tanya.” I don’t invite her to stay, don’t offer to buy her a drink, and don’t encourage this conversation in any way. “I’m waiting for a business meeting.”

“Since when has that stopped us before?” She leans forward, ensuring I have a clear view of her décolletage. “We could catch up properly later, after your meeting, in my apartment, like old times.”

The suggestion is loaded with memories of encounters that were mutually satisfying but emotionally empty.

Tanya was convenient when I needed release without complications, and she’s always willing to accept physical intimacy without demanding emotional connection.

She never asks questions about my work, never expects promises about the future, and never challenged my decisions or makes me examine my motivations.

She’s everything Sienna isn’t.

That used to interest me. Now, it makes me sick.

“That won’t be happening.” I keep my voice level and polite. “Our arrangement has run its course.”

Her smile falters slightly, but she recovers quickly. “Has it? You haven’t returned my calls in weeks, but I assumed you were busy with work. I didn’t realize you were ending things entirely.”

“I’m engaged.” The words come out more firmly than I intended. “The situation has changed.”

“Engaged.” She repeats the word like it tastes strange. “To that Cooper girl, yes. I saw the photos in the society pages. Very... traditional. I’m sure you’re looking for something more exciting on the side.”

There’s something dismissive in her tone that makes my jaw clench. “What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me. She’s lovely, I’m sure, and exactly what everyone would expect Leo Denisov to choose for a wife. Well-bred, well-educated, and well-behaved.” Tanya’s smile becomes sharper. “I have to wonder if she’ll be enough to keep your interest once the novelty wears off though.”

The implication in her words sets my teeth on edge. “Meaning?”

“Meaning arranged marriages are about business, not passion. We both know you have... appetites that require someone more experienced to satisfy.” She reaches across the table, brushing my wrist with her fingertips.

“When you get tired of playing house with your little debutante, I’ll still be here. ”

I look down at her hand on my arm, then back up to meet her gaze directly.

When I speak, I’m firm but cold. “Let me be very clear about something, Tanya. You could never compete with the woman I’m about to marry.

Not in intelligence, strength, or in any way that actually matters to me.

” I remove her hand from my arm with deliberate precision.

“Our arrangement was convenient when I had nothing better. Now I do.”

Tanya’s face goes white, then red. I see the exact moment when my words hit home, and she realizes what we had meant so little to me that I can dismiss it without a second thought.

I feel like a bastard, but I have to make this point.

I can be an asshole to anyone but Sienna.

“You’re making a mistake.” Her voice wavers slightly. “She’s not like us, Leo. She doesn’t understand this world and doesn’t know what it takes to survive in it. When reality hits her, when she sees what you really are, she’ll run. Then what will you have?”

“More than I had before.” I lean back in my seat, making it clear this conversation is over. “Enjoy your evening, Tanya.”

She sits there for a moment longer, perhaps hoping I’ll change my mind or offer some softer dismissal. When neither comes, she stands abruptly and walks away without another word. I watch her go, noting the stiffness in her shoulders and the way other people track her movement across the floor.

The interaction leaves me with an unexpected sense of regret, not for ending things with Tanya, but for the necessity of hurting her in the process. She didn’t deserve to be dismissed so coldly, even if continuing our arrangement would have been impossible.

Yet everything I told her was true. I can’t imagine any scenario where Tanya’s practiced sensuality would appeal to me now that I know what it feels like to be with someone who challenges every assumption I make about myself, who fights me when I’m wrong, refuses to accept easy answers, and makes me work for every moment of genuine connection.

Sienna makes me want to be worthy of her fire rather than simply seeking to contain it. Tanya’s right about one thing though. She doesn’t understand our world, and I never want her to. I want to protect her from the harsher realities of marrying a pakhan , which means keeping her at a distance.

Ilya arrives ten minutes later, sliding into the seat Tanya vacated with efficient grace. He sets a tablet on the table between us and leans forward to speak directly into my ear, pitching his voice to carry over the music without being overheard.

“Adrian’s people have been active in Queens.

They have three new businesses under different shell companies, all in strategic locations near shipping routes.

” He scrolls through a series of photographs showing storefronts and warehouse facilities.

“The pattern suggests he’s building infrastructure for something larger. ”

I study the images, noting the positioning and proximity to legitimate transportation hubs. “A distribution network?”

“That’s my assessment. He’s creating multiple points of entry and exit for goods that need to avoid official inspection.” Ilya highlights several addresses on a digital map. “The timing coincides with increased pressure on Vincent Cooper’s legitimate shipping operations.”

“He’s forcing Vincent to choose between compliance and survival.” I shake my head, sympathetic about his position but annoyed that he let things get to this point. “If Vincent isn’t careful, Adrian will own everything he has when he calls in his markers.”

“Exactly, and based on our financial intelligence, Vincent’s running out of time to make that choice.” Ilya produces a second set of documents showing bank transfers and loan schedules. “He’s had two more missed payments in the past week. Adrian’s patience is clearly running thin.”

I should focus entirely on these updates and give Ilya my complete attention while we discuss strategy and countermeasures.

Instead, my mind drifts to this morning’s conversation with Sienna, and the hurt in her eyes when I dismissed what happened between us as impulse and stress.

I think about the way she agreed so readily when I suggested keeping business and pleasure separate, as if she’d expected nothing more from me, and a sharp pang of regret shoots through me.

“Leo?” Ilya’s voice cuts through my distraction. “Are you listening?”

“Yes. Adrian’s building distribution infrastructure while pressuring Vincent. What’s our response?”

Ilya studies my face carefully. “That depends on what our primary objective is. Protecting the Cooper family, eliminating Adrian as a threat, or maintaining the engagement arrangement.”

“All three.”

He frowns. “That’s not always possible. Sometimes protecting someone means making choices they won’t understand or appreciate.” Ilya closes the tablet and leans back slightly. “Speaking of which, I’ve doubled Sienna’s security detail as you requested.”

“Good.” The response comes automatically, without hesitation.