Page 2

Dmitri

“You look tired,” I comment on my cousin’s appearance as Nikolai pours himself a drink from the bar in my office. “Being a father has worn on you.”

“It’s exhausting, but worth it.” A content smile touches his lips just before he pours two fingers of whiskey past them.

I only shake my head a little as I lean into my chair.

“I got a call from Roman this morning.” Nikolai takes the seat across from me. “It seems Yogi Kozlov is trying to make a move into New York.”

“The Kozlovs? They were sent back to Russia with their tails tucked between their legs, I thought. After what you told me what happened with Roman’s wife.”

Nikolai nods. “Yes, at first, they did. But it seems since my father has gone into retirement, Yogi thinks he can fuck around. His brother was the smart one of that family, and he’s gone now.” After what he did with Roman’s wife, he’s lucky there’s any Kozlovs left to be so stupid.

“Ah.” I steeple my hands. “Are they here in the States already, or on their way?”

“They have feelers out right now. I just wanted to make sure you knew about it. They won’t go to Boston, but these assholes think they can try for this city.” A darkness comes over his expression. “After what they tried to do to Roman’s wife, they’ve got some fucking nerve.”

I tense at the word ‘wife.’ It won’t be long now before I have one of those, too.

“They can’t be stupid enough to make a move here in the city. We have a large presence here; they’d be taken out the moment they showed face. Are you sure your information is solid?”

He frowns. “I am. I don’t want them in this city.”

I give a hard nod. “Agreed. If they try to set up here, or anywhere on the East Coast, we’ll burn them to the ground.”

No one touches what’s ours.

“I heard another rumor.” Nikolai smiles. “Arman told me, and I said he has to be wrong. No way this is true.”

He leans forward toward me, with the same playful tone as when we were young boys teasing each other.

“What gossip have you and your brother been whispering about on the playground?” I fist my hands in my lap, already knowing what’s coming.

I’ve only spoken to Arman about the situation I now face. He no doubt blabbed to his brother.

“You’re going to be married?” A chuckle escapes with the question.

“Did he explain everything or just that part?” I ask.

He laughs. “Oh, he told me the rest. You’re inheriting a wife that comes with a lucrative real estate empire. I mean, it makes sense, right. It will give you even more legitimacy here than the club.”

I drum my fingers on the top of my desk. Velvet Tower isn’t some dance club where early twenty-somethings come to get drunk and find someone to roll around the sheets with for the night. It’s the most elite multi-floor club in New York.

The first floor has a nightclub feel to it, with the most popular DJs from all over the world making appearances. The second floor requires a buy-in of ten thousand dollars to be given a tray of chips for a spot at the tables in our casino. The most elite of the floors is the third floor. VIP suites are rented out with extreme discretion.

We follow every state and city law. All zoning licenses, liquor licenses, and any other fee or license is kept up to date. There are no reasons for the government to put their eyes on this place.

Which makes it a good spot to hold meetings, such as the one I’m having with my cousin to discuss other business.

“It’s a business arrangement,” I explain, not that I have to. Marriage is inevitable, or so I’ve been told countless times. Marry, have children. No point in building the empire if there’s no one to oversee it once I’m gone.

My father passing away last year put a ticking timer on my mother’s patience for me to ‘take care of business.’

“Have I met the girl?” Nikolai asks.

“No.” My jaw tenses. Girl? Amelia is young, yes, but she’s all woman. Forced to grow up much faster than most, she’s done an impressive job at such a young age.

“I remember her brother. Lucas was a good man.” His tone turns somber.

“He was,” I agree. “We made a lot of money together.”

Nikolai’s brow arches. “Money? Haven’t you been working with the man for something like fifteen years?”

“I did. Yeah.” I shrug.

“And Charlotte says I can be cold.” He laughs. “What do you know about his sister?”

“Not much.” That I’m willing to tell him anyway. The last time I saw Amelia other than Lucas’ funeral, she was twenty years old and angry as hell at Lucas for making a boy she wanted to date turn her down.

Lucas had been right to get involved. The man in that situation wasn’t worth the dog shit on the pavement. Just because he came from money didn’t mean he had anything of value to offer.

She’d ignored me in the office entirely while ranting at him to stay out of her personal life. With her cheeks flushed red and her hands had fisted at her sides, I waited—impatiently—for her to stomp her foot at him.

She wanted to, I could tell, but she managed to tamp down the urge.

I remember being disappointed.

“Didn’t you talk with her at the funeral?” Nikolai prods.

“No. She had a lot to deal with and she hadn’t been told about the arrangement yet.” So instead, I watched her from across the service.

She hadn’t cried. At least not while I was watching her. She kept her back straight, her shoulder rolled back, and her chin thrusted forward as though she were enduring a battle instead of mourning her older brother.

“When are you meeting with her? I assume she’s been told by now.” Nikolai rolls his shoulders back, stretching.

“The attorney was supposed to meet with her yesterday, but I haven’t followed up with him yet.”

His eyes widened. “I don’t understand you, cousin. So, are you going to marry this woman or let her off the hook?”

“Let her off the hook? Why would I do that?” I shake my head a little. “I have to get married eventually, and this arrangement comes with business opportunities.”

“You really are a cold bastard, aren’t you?” Nikolai sighs.

Before I can answer my cousin, the door to my office flies open, bouncing off the wall from the force.

Amelia Moreau barges into my office with her hazel eyes ablaze and her cheeks bright red. From frustration or the slight chill outside, I’m not sure.

Nikolai jumps to his feet and spins to face her.

She takes one look at him, narrows her eyes, then moves on to me.

“You’re Dmitri.” It’s an accusation.

“I am.” I nod slowly, still sitting in my chair. Her fluster, the wild eyes, the windblown chestnut hair, and that clenched jaw have me intrigued.

And hard.

My reaction must not be what she was expecting. With my admission, she seems to relax. Her shoulders drop and she takes a slow breath.

“This is my cousin, Nikolai Romanov. We were in the middle of a meeting.”

She swallows, looks back at Nikolai.

“Nikolai, this is Amelia Moreau. My fiancée.” I keep my eyes on her when I make the claim, and she doesn’t disappoint. Irritation floods her expression.

Her nostrils flare and her cheeks redden another shade.

“No. I’m not.” She sweeps her heated gaze to my cousin, immediately softening. “I mean, I am Amelia, but I’m not his fiancée.”

“Dammit. I told her to wait.” Oleg hurries into the office, his breath short. “I was dealing with a delivery when she rushed in, I told her to wait, but…” He swipes a hand through the air in her general direction.

He needs to start working out if chasing a young girl up a flight of steps to my office has him so winded. My office is on the second floor of Velvet Tower with a private entrance into the casino from the back.

“It’s fine.” I wave him off. “She’s to be let up whenever she’s here, Oleg. Let the others know. Amelia Moreau.”

I stand, bringing my eyes to meet hers.

“Well, at least for a little while longer. It will be Dragunov by the end of the month.”

She pinches her lips together and drags a long breath into her lungs.

“Stop saying things like that,” she demands and she has that look about her again. She wants to stomp her foot at me.

And just like before, she denies me the pleasure of watching her temper tantrum.

It’s for the best, I suppose. If she were to behave so poorly, I’d have to do something about it. I won’t have her being a brat when she doesn’t get her way, especially in front of my cousin. Or anyone for that matter.

“Saying things like what? The truth?”

She shakes her head. “It’s not the truth. I’m not marrying you.”

Amelia draws herself up, rolling her shoulders back. Visibly she calms.

“Let me start again.” She looks to Nikolai. “I’m sorry if I interrupted a meeting.”

“Not at all. We were finished.” He grabs his jacket from where he draped it over the back of the chair and looks to me. “Charlotte is filling in at the deli today.”

“So, you need to go watch her work?” I cock an eyebrow. His obsession with his wife—the same as all three of my cousins—makes no sense to me. A wife is a necessity in our world, but to put his entire life on rotation around her has no logical sense to it.

“No. I need to make sure she’s letting her staff do their jobs and isn’t overworking herself.” He folds his jacket over his arm.

On his way to the door, he stands in front of Amelia, blocking my view of her.

“It was nice to meet you, Amelia. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

She huffs. “Thanks, but that’s really unlikely.”

Nikolai shoots me a look of amusement after he’s passed her and she can’t see him anymore. As he shuts the door, I can already hear him laughing.

“You’ve met with your attorney finally.” I make my way around my desk toward her.

“I did.” She jerks her head in a single nod.

“Good. Then all we need to do is discuss the details.” It’s better to have a simple understanding at the beginning.

“Details?” She tilts her head like I’ve said something she didn’t understand. A beeping sound comes from her purse, and she scrambles to unzip the bag and grab the phone.

I watch as she hits the call button and answers it, turning her back to me as she does.

“I’ve already sent over the appointment history… Then he’ll need to wait until I get back… I don’t care if he has a subpoena, he’ll need to wait until I get back and can review it.”

While she’s arguing with her phone, I move to the front of my desk and lean back against it. Her tone is firm, steady. While I can see the annoyance in her body language, she’s keeping it out of her voice.

“Yes.” She cranes her neck to see me and her frown deepens. “I’ll be done here shortly then I’ll head right over. Thirty minutes, I think.”

After another short conversation regarding legal documents, she hangs up and takes another calming breath. When she turns all the way back to me, she’s steady again. Her shoulders are rolled back, her chin thrust forward as before.

“I don’t have time for a long discussion. I’m not sure what happened or why my brother lost his mind before he put that stupid stipulation in his will.”

“The last time I saw Lucas he was very much his usual self.” I fold my arms over my chest.

The inheritance clause in his will was a little surprising. For many reasons, but at the moment none of it matters. I want to see her blush again, and the more annoyed she gets, the redder her cheeks become.

She huffs. “I don’t even know why Lucas would know you, at least not closely. Why would he even think that someone like you?—”

“Someone like me?” I cock my head to the side. “What does that mean exactly?” I thicken my accent as I question her. “Is it because I’m Russian? I was born there, but I have lived in this country for many years now.”

“What? No.” She shakes her head. “I mean a man of your… well, what you do.”

“I own this club,” I answer, enjoying the way her eyes widen.

Her lips are nearly white as she pinches them together while eyeballing me. She’s unsure how to deal with me.

“I understand Lucas had some sort of business with you. I’m not sure what it was exactly, but we can sort it out later. You have to see how insane it is for my brother to arrange a marriage on my behalf.”

A ghost of a smile touches her lips as she waits for me to agree with her.

Except I don’t. “It happens all the time, arranged marriages.”

“It’s barbaric.” The hint of a smile is gone, and a fierce, hardened expression replaces it.

Before I can answer, her phone rings again. Her annoyance switches from me to the screen, but she accepts the call. Once again, her back is to me and she’s muttering into the phone.

I approach her, taking in the soft smell of lilacs as I get closer to her and reach for her cell phone.

“Sarah, I’ll be back as soon as I—” Her words cut off as I slip the phone from her grasp. She spins around, mouth dropped open in shock and fire burning even brighter in her eyes.

I put the phone to my ear.

“Sarah, Amelia will return to the office within the hour. She’s unavailable until then.” I end the call without waiting for an acknowledgment.

“You took my phone.” The words are barely above a whisper as she stares at the device cradled in my palm.

“I did.”

“Give it back.”

“Not until we get a few things straight, moyo dikoye plamya .”