Page 4 of Claim Me (Dmitriyev Bratva #2)

F our months later…

Kazimir

The sunset on the strip was spectacular. Shades of wild roses and tangerines filled the late afternoon sky. The heat was oppressive, but sitting in my air-conditioned office, I could escape from the world all around me if only for half an hour.

Life was good.

I sat back in my chair, propping my feet on my desk.

With one arm crossed behind my head and a drink in my other hand, I was at peace.

A rarity. The music was spectacular, the concerto brilliantly orchestrated, and the musicians amazing.

As the deep bass reverberated through the Bose speakers, I wished I’d brought my earbuds with me.

They provided a more intimate setting, allowing the passion of the instruments to provide a stark and haunting tale that remained with me for hours after the performance.

Her performance.

The only woman who’d sparked my interest in years, a voluptuous blonde with eyes the color of the purest emerald.

I’d been lucky enough to catch her latest performance, choosing to sit in the first row to catch every nuance, every facial expression.

The entire time my cock had remained hard.

Even now, my balls were tight to the point of a dull ache.

She’d been stunning and I’d been mesmerized the entire time I’d sat in the audience.

To have an actual recording of her music was even more spectacular.

The CD had been produced a week before, the production able to capture the full regaling beauty of the orchestra.

Mostly, the lovely Marissa’s fingers as they tickled the keyboard continued to excite me.

Of course, seeing her in person had made it that much more special.

Flowers.

Gifts.

Since when had I not simply taken something or someone I wanted? Never. Marissa was far too innocent and sweet for a man like me. Maybe there was some goodness left inside after all.

If only she knew she had a beast as an admirer.

I chuckled from the thought. I’d debated heading backstage but didn’t want to frighten her.

One day soon, I would make that happen. The thought kept my cock at full attention.

There was such a sweet vulnerability about her, an admirable attribute that was easy to see, yet when she played, she was a true powerhouse.

I was forced to adjust my dick before the pinching sensations turned to pure agony.

The sharp knock on the door interrupted the only moment of solitude I’d managed to grab for myself after returning to Vegas. “Come in,” I growled.

My brother laughed softly as soon as he walked into the room. “Wow. You’re in a mood.”

Cocking my head, I glared at Mikhail. “And you’re chipper as usual, I see.”

“You should be the same after your vacation.”

“Five days away is hardly a vacation, but I admit getting the hell out of here was a nice change.”

He plopped down in the seat opposite me, his smirk as annoying as his constant good mood. He’d been that way since meeting the love of his life. Who knew the Russian Pakhan would fall head over heels in love with a girl who’d broken every rule. His constant glee was disgusting.

With the music still blaring, I pretended as if I had plans on ignoring him until he cleared his throat.

“Oh,” I chortled. “You’re still here.” I lowered my feet to the floor, leaning over to grab the stereo’s remote.

“What’s with the music? You’re suddenly a classical fan? I thought you swore off concertos and symphonies years ago.” As soon as he issued the taunting statement, his eyes reflected personal admonishment.

I ignored the reason why. The past would remain in the past. Marissa was entirely different.

“This isn’t just any classical music, bro. It’s Sergei Prokofiev.” I grinned, which allowed him to relax.

Mikhail was all powerful and wise, but his appreciation of music remained with heavy metal while I liked to consider myself highly cultured. He frowned.

“The Russian pianist?” I taunted. Deer in the headlights look. “ Peter and the Wolf ? Romeo and Juliet ? Symphony number one?”

He lifted a single eyebrow.

“None of that rings a bell.”

“Nope.”

Laughing, I brought my glass to my lips. “Perhaps you and your sweet angel should get out of the house every once in a while. Go to the ballet. See a play. Hell, go to a rodeo. Something.”

“Bristol and I enjoy several shows, but we prefer creating our own world of blissful fantasies.” He issued growling, yipping sounds.

“Disgusting. Keep your sex life to yourself.”

He winked. “I wasn’t talking about hot sex, but we could.”

“Go to hell,” I tossed out. “Any shows you’ve seen are on the circuit, for God’s sake. Or maybe I should say the circus that’s become Las Vegas.”

“Since when did you turn snobbish?”

“Since I realized there’s more to life than slot machines and blackjack tables. Is there something going on I should know about?”

Mikhail laughed. “Can’t a man stop by and see his younger brother?”

“Not if the brother is the Pakhan of a powerful Bratva.”

He frowned. “You got me. Nothing significant. I wanted to remind you that we have the quarterly board meeting in a couple weeks. You need to have your expansion numbers ready for a possible vote.”

“You couldn’t provide the reminder over the phone?”

“Just checking on business.”

“Uh-huh. Let me guess. You wanted to check to see if there was any trouble brewing with our old friends, the O’Shaughnessy clan. Right?” The Irish mafia had caused my brother to finally grow some gray hairs with their attempt to slide into Las Vegas by discrediting us.

Instead, their illustrious leader had landed in prison, the firstborn son as well. However, there were more kids waiting in the wings. It was only a matter of time before they retaliated.

He laughed. “I wasn’t going to come right out and ask.”

“Bullshit. You were just trying to be polite. For once,” I teased. “There’s no unusual activity. I don’t think we have anything to worry about.” My brother rarely minced words, but lately, he wore anxiety in his expressions. It was because he now had a family. “You’ve caught wind of something.”

“No. Just checking for now. There are always rumblings of shit going on. Bratva. Cartel. I’m surprised there’s any non-criminals left.”

I gave him a look, but he threw his hand out like it was no big deal. “Fine, brother. Have it your way.” It dawned on me that the truth was he was checking on me. Did he think I was about to implode?

“Seriously. Did you enjoy your time away even if it involved work?”

I thought about the reason I’d decided out of the blue to take the time in the first place. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be listed as a groupie.

Or perhaps more appropriately a stalker.

“More than I should and the city was hot and wet.” Wrong choice of words.

“Fantastic. That means you met someone. About fucking time.” His grin was wide. I’d been right. He’d cajoled me about my lack of sex life for months when he used to toss in my face that I was nothing but a playboy. Those days were long gone.

My thoughts drifted to the amazing pianist once again.

Long blonde hair delicately kissed by the sun.

She always wore it in a neat and tidy bun, the classy yet body-hugging black dress more conforming than I’d believed she preferred, but keeping her almost anonymous during every performance.

She was just one of a hundred musicians, the beautiful orchestrations of both classic and innovative selections meant to keep the performers together as a group, instead of creating any stars.

Except the member-controlled symphony had failed.

Without the beautiful, stunning, enigmatic and talented woman, they wouldn’t be touring the world.

Her first solo had clinched their position.

Jumping a flight to Paris, seeing her framed by the Eiffel Tower had been the icing on the cake.

She was utter perfection. As I drummed the fingers of my other hand on the surface of my desk, I took a thoughtful sip of my scotch.

“Have you ever met someone you knew you were destined to remember for the rest of your life?”

“Wow,” Mikhail huffed. “That is way too profound for you.”

“Very funny, but I’m serious.” I’d thought of little else since the first time I’d heard her play.

His smile faded. “Okay, the truth is that I felt that way when I met Bristol, but do not tell her that. She’ll hold it over my head.”

I grinned as I turned my head toward him, momentarily driven from the pleasant and far too arousing group of images tearing through my mind. “Now I have something to hold over your head.”

“Ha. What’s her name?”

I pointed my finger at him. “Hell, no. You’ll never know because I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Come on. You’re still the playboy. For you to be pining away for someone while listening to God knows what music, someone managed to catch your eye.”

As I swirled the drink, I thought about all the filthy things I’d craved doing to her, unraveling every inch of her luscious body while forcing her to surrender.

My phone rang and I flicked off the music altogether. I could see my hope of easing back into work wasn’t going to be possible.

He sat back, obviously determined not to go anywhere until he’d discovered my deep, dark secret.

Given I didn’t recognize the number, I bristled. This was my private line, very few outside the family gifted with the information. While the Dmitriyev Bratva was almost completely legitimized, that didn’t preclude us from having a vast array of enemies.

Any of whom would be eager to make good on threats from the distant or recent past. We could never allow our guard to fall. “Kazimir Dmitriyev.”

A strange sound caught my attention first, a pump or a vacuum in the background.

“Kaz, it’s Charlie.”

I tried to recognize the caller, but his voice was raspy.

I heard lyrics. The caller’s attempt at singing was atrocious but I immediately recognized ‘Radioactive’ from Kings of Leon, a song from fifteen years ago that had become a crazy anthem.

“Fuck. Charles, the third,” I teased. “Sorry, buddy. I didn’t recognize your voice. How the hell are you? Long time.”

“Not good, Kaz. Look, I need your help. You’re the only person I can turn to.”

The tone was indicative of a man either on the run or terrified for his life. I’d heard fear in a man’s voice several times in my life. I’d been the cause of it more than once. “What’s going on?”

“I’m in the hospital. Someone shot me and you’re the only person I can trust. I need to see you as soon as possible.”

We’d been friends for nine months fifteen plus years before.

We’d been close, almost brothers. After fulfilling the duties required by his authoritative father, he’d left to pursue his dreams while I remained in Vegas to pursue mine.

There’d been no overt reason we’d lost touch other than conflicting schedules, but here we were, over a decade and a half flying by.

I thought about his request. The timing sucked.

But we’d vowed to be there for each other if the shit hit the fan. There was no doubt hearing his voice that he was in serious trouble.

“Send me the information. I’ll catch a flight and be right there.”

Charles let out a deep breath, the anguished sound creating a need to destroy whatever problem or person that had derailed his life. “Thank you, brother. I owe you for this.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I tossed my phone, trying to imagine who the hell had attacked him.

“What the hell was that?” Mikhail asked.

“Do you remember Charlie from fifteen years ago?.” His memory wasn’t any better than mine had been.

“His father was friends with Pops. Charlie was sent here as a punishment of sorts to earn a real living. Our dear father thought I could use the same treatment since he’d listed me as the family playboy. ”

“You mean the black sheep,” he said, laughing.

“Yeah, you were none too happy when forced to clean rooms, work with the landscapers, and serve as a dishwasher in the resort’s kitchens.

Charlie was your sidekick. Yeah, I remember him.

Rabble-rouser, our mother used to call him.

I’m honestly surprised the two of you didn’t get arrested. ”

I grinned and opened my bottom desk drawer, pressing my fingers against the heat-sensitive pads and unlocking the small safe. As I opened the door, I gave him a mischievous look.

“Well, fuck me. You were arrested.”

“Only once,” I lied. “Pops was none too happy.” With my favorite weapon in my hand, I stood, pushing back the chair.

“You two were like one half of an all-boy band.”

“Not any longer. Charlie was shot. From the sound of his voice, he’s terrified the person responsible is coming to finish the job.”

Mikhail rose to his feet. “Jesus Christ. What the hell did he get in the middle of? Go do what you need to do. It’s not often we manage to develop friendships in our world.”

Our world.

It had once been filled with using violence to solve disagreements, bloodshed and death to conclude a dysfunctional working relationship, and arranged marriages to form alliances.

Now our lives were much simpler, calmer in a way that nourished families and retirement funds.

Once upon a time our enemies had used guns and car bombs to try to win a situation or invade a territory.

Times had changed. Now everyone had become more sophisticated.

Hacking, stock manipulation, and corporate takeovers were weapons of mass destruction.

Mikhail was right. Bratva were blood brothers, a lifetime bond formed with oaths of alliance and obedience. While Charles might not have pledged his allegiance to the family, I thought of him as blood bonded for life. His enemies were my enemies.

Whoever had attempted to end his life would soon learn crossing a member of the Dmitriyev family was a death wish.

And I was happy to indulge the asshole with providing him with his ultimate fantasy.

No one fucked with my family or my friends.