Page 6

Nikolai

I hate parties. Especially the kind where everyone pretends the blood on their hands is just expensive cologne. But Kirill insisted I be here tonight, said it was important to make an appearance. So here I am, surrounded by sycophants in tuxedos and women paraded around like trophies.

The ballroom we are in is a gaudy thing, dripping with chandeliers and gold trim, the crystal an absurdity contrasting with the sinister undercurrent snaking through the room. Half of these bastards have dirtier secrets than I do, but they laugh and toast like their lives aren’t built on lies and blood money.

I stick to the edges of the room, nursing a glass of whiskey, asking myself why I am even here. It’s not my first. Won’t be my last. I’ve already lost count, but I can’t feel the burn anymore, just the numbness creeping in. Good.

We are all here for the last drug deal, which was a success. I never understood Kirill's taste in the opulent, but I know this lavish circus is his way of flaunting his power. I’ve never been one for parties. The clink of champagne glasses, the rustle of silk gowns—it’s nothing but white noise.

Still, these people are important to our work, and that’s enough reason to endure.

My eyes scan the crowd looking for someone who could at least pass for entertainment. I spot Ivanov, doing his best impression of a sleazy politician and schmoozing with potential investors. He’s not one of my favorite people to talk to, but then again, I hate everyone, so I’ll pass.

Then my eyes cut to Kirill moving through the crowd, every step a performance of grace and dominance. He spots me, smirks, then heads in my direction.

“Enjoying yourself?” He has that damned smile of his, the one that makes you forget he’s a monster until it’s too late.

“Always,” I say, lifting my glass in mock salute. He knows I’d rather be anywhere else. He just doesn’t care.

Kirill claps a hand on my shoulder, and his grip is too tight to be friendly. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I follow him through the crowd, past clusters of men who eye me like I’m the shark circling their sinking boat. The truth is, since I started working for Kirill five years ago I’ve gathered more foes than friends. The only upside when it comes to working for him is the women.

Yes, I’ve had them all since this unfortunate job began. Tall, short, thick, slim. Different nationalities and aerial codes, the ones who flash smiles meant to lure without even knowing your first name, the calculating ones who are after their next big paycheck. The ones who just want to rock your world and theirs too. But through it all, I’ve found that I’d rather ignore them. The ones who have indulged, have never heard from me again.

And the very few I’ve managed to run into again, well, they know better than to acknowledge me in public.

Kirill stops in front of a tall blonde in a silver dress that leaves little to the imagination. She’s all curves and polish with lips painted scarlet like she’s got plans to devour someone whole.

“Nikolai, this is my daughter, Alina.”

Daughter. Of course. Kirill’s been parading her around for years, offering her hand to whichever bastard will best secure his alliances. I’ve heard the rumors. She’s his favorite tool, sharpened and pretty. But I’ve never actually been in the same room with her until now.

“Nikolai Ramensky.” I nod, keeping my expression impassive.

Her smile is instant, all seduction and promise. “So you’re the infamous enforcer I’ve heard so much about. I expected someone…” Her gaze roams over me, lingering on my shoulders and my chest. “Older.”

“Disappointed?”

“Hardly.”

Kirill chuckles, but it’s a hollow sound. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” And with that, he’s gone, swallowed up by the crowd.

Alina steps closer, her perfume too sweet, too cloying. “You don’t look like you enjoy parties.”

“I don’t.”

“But you came anyway.”

“I was told to.”

She laughs, a high, flirtatious sound. “Duty before pleasure. Admirable.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

She reaches out, with perfectly manicured fingers and traces along the sleeve of my jacket. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right kind of pleasure.”

I look at her then, like really look. She’s beautiful, the kind of woman who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. But all I can think about is Katya. The way she looked at me, the fire in her eyes when she defied me. The way her skin felt under my hands.

Alina’s voice pulls me back. “I’m guessing you’re the kind of man who likes a challenge.”

“Sometimes.”

“Good.” She steps in close, her breath warm against my neck. “Because I’m definitely not easy.”

It’s a line meant to tempt me, and maybe it would have if I weren’t already wrestling with my own demons. But right now, Alina’s just a distraction. And distractions are useful.

“So prove it,” I say, leaning in, keeping my voice low. “Show me what you’ve got.”

She grins, throwing me the kind of smile that’s meant to be dangerous. And somehow the night goes on to be less boring than it began. We dance around each other with words, trading flirtations like blades, but I’m not really listening when she keeps going on about the same things. My mind’s already drifted back to Katya. To her rage. Her stubbornness. The way it all makes my cock hard every time I picture her.

I should be focused on Alina, on whatever game Kirill’s trying to play by pushing her toward me. But instead, all I can think about is the woman who forced her way into my life and won’t fucking leave.

Alina’s laughter breaks through my thoughts. She’s saying something about her father’s business, but the words barely register. I nod, throw in a comment or two to keep her entertained, but my attention’s already gone.

Thankfully, the sound of glass shattering cuts through the room. And all heads turn towards where we are standing as conversations die.

I’m still trying to understand what is happening when I see Alina crumple to the floor, her silver dress pooling around her like spilled mercury.

Kirill’s roar slices through the air. “Someone call a doctor!”

But I already know it’s too late. Her skin’s turning pale and her breathing is shallow. Poison. Delivered right here, under Kirill’s watch. An insult he’ll never let stand.

I kneel beside her, checking her pulse even though I can see the truth in her lifeless eyes.

“Who the fuck did this?” he demands, though he directs his question to the crowd, to nobody in particular.

I look up at him with my hands still pressed to Alina’s throat.

“She’s been poisoned,” I stand then wipe my hands on a handkerchief someone shoves at me.

The atmosphere is now charged with a different kind of energy—fear and suspicion. Kirill’s face turns a dangerous shade of red.

“Find out who did this,” he snarls at me. “No one leaves until we know.”

I scan the crowd, looking through faces that shift between pale and guilty. Too many suspects, too many possibilities. As people chatter, I’m already forming theories. This smacks of Eganov's style, a gutless rat who has had it in for Kirill. Or perhaps it’s the same player who trashed Katya’s apartment. The timelines are too close to be random.

Kirill’s security locks the exits, and I start my hunt. Alina’s body is moved. The guests try to act nonchalant, but the air sizzles with panic.

I pull Ivan aside, my man with a knack for eavesdropping. “See anything out of the ordinary?” I ask.

“Nothing on Alina. But Old Ivanov’s been too chummy with certain faces lately. Could be him.”

“Ivanov is always the suspect until he’s not. But let’s make sure he isn’t this time,” I grunt. “Keep an eye on him. I’ll deal with the rest.”

I move towards the back, through the kitchen and out into the alley. I light a cigarette, taking a long drag, forcing my racing thoughts into submission. If the poisoner is still inside, flushing them out will take skill and patience, both of which I have in spades. If it’s connected to Katya, then I might have to take a look at the whole thing about her sister’s disappearance. I can’t let her continue to think I’m the villain in her story. I’ve had enough of that role in my own life.

But a part of me—an unwelcome part—worries for Katya. If these events are linked, she might be in danger. I’ve told her I’m not interested in her case, yet here I am, thinking of her safety. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. And that’s what gnaws at me, makes me want to punch something until my knuckles bleed.

Back inside, Kirill corners me. “Nikolai, any leads?”

“Working on it,” I say, then I elaborate. “Eganov’s my prime suspect. But I’m not sure, he wasn’t even here today. But I’ll find out.”

He nods, his face a twisted mask of rage. “Do it. And make them pay.”

My mind’s already running through the possibilities. Someone wanted to send a message. And I’ve got no idea who might be behind it.

Katya’s apartment was trashed only days ago. These two events happening around me, about the same time, aren’t a coincidence. Someone’s trying to get my attention. And now, they’ve dragged Kirill into it.

I glance at Alina’s lifeless body one last time. This isn’t an accident. Two hits, two attempts to fuck with my life. And if it’s not connected, then I’m losing my edge.

But I know better. This was planned. And if they’re coming for me, then I’ll be ready.