Page 19

P iotr

“ E veryone’s here,” Sev announces as he walks into the room, letting me know the other members of our consortium have arrived.

I look up from my cellphone, which I’ve been staring at for the past ten minutes.

I’ve been rereading the messages Olivia has sent me throughout the day.

She’s checked in with me five times, sending me pictures and brief comments about what she’s up to.

It isn’t something I asked her to do and I’m surprised she wants to share so much with me.

The last photo she sent was from outside a clothes store.

She captioned it with buying something sexy for tonight .

I don’t know whether she’s trying to show me what I’m missing by not being with her or if she just wants to keep in touch, to build a relationship.

Either way, I appreciate that she’s trying.

I get up from the seat behind the desk. “Thank you for giving me the use of your study today.”

Despite being distracted by my wife’s messages, I got a lot done today.

“I still don’t understand why you didn’t take the day off to be with your wife.”

My jaw ticks in irritation. “Business doesn’t stop for Olivia. She needs to learn my work comes first.”

“Did she have to learn it on the first day of your marriage?”

I don’t know what’s crawled up Sev’s ass. “Since when are you a relationship expert?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never claimed to be, but even I can see that neglecting a woman who was reluctant to marry you in the first place is a bad idea.”

“Olivia will be fine. She’s used to…”

“To what?” Sev interrupts. “Being ignored? She may accept that from her brothers, but from you she needs more.”

I clench my fists at my sides as he tweaks my last nerve. “You’re like an old woman, Sevastyan. Where is this concern for Olivia coming from?”

“It isn’t concern for Olivia, mudak. I want you to be happy.”

We rarely indulge in personal talk, and I have no idea why Sev’s decided to stick his nose into my private life now.

I can only imagine my wedding has triggered some desire in him to settle down.

I suspect seeing Lara Ivanova at my wedding is to blame.

Sev has had a thing for my uncle’s goddaughter for years.

Lara’s parents were killed shortly after her twelfth birthday and although Boris didn’t raise her personally, he has watched over her closely.

Sev believes she’s his, but my uncle won’t allow him to have her, not when he has such a terrible reputation for treating women as disposable.

I’m not close to the girl, but I don’t want to see her hurt, and I fear Sev would destroy her.

“Thank you, my friend, but I’m still not going to ask my uncle to let you have Lara.” Although I’m Pakhan, Lara’s future is a family matter. Even if I was so inclined, I couldn’t overrule Boris on that.

Sev clasps my shoulder. “I wouldn’t ask you to. Now, we should go through. We’ve kept our friends waiting long enough.”

I follow Sev through to the room he has set up for business meetings.

It was the grand salon back in the nineteenth century where people of note used to gather to discuss the arts and politics.

Sev has left some of the original details in the room, like the moldings on the ceiling and the enormous fireplace.

It’s an impressive space. A huge rectangular table sits off to one side, several of its seats currently occupied by our closest allies.

Niamh Donnelly has taken the seat at the head.

A bubbly blonde, the Scots-Irish fixer for the Lenkov Bratva hides a ruthless streak beneath her sweet demeanor.

Because she’s a born peacemaker, she chairs our meetings and keeps everyone on track.

With so many massive egos in the room, it’s necessary to have a voice of calm.

When she sees me, Niamh gets up and comes to throw her arms around me. “Piotr! Congratulations on your marriage.”

I didn’t invite any of my European associates to the wedding, preferring to keep my dealings here separate from the North American business I am taking over from my uncle. What I’ve built in the UK, Italy, and France is mine alone.

“Thank you.”

Niamh releases me from her hug and resumes her seat. Fortunately, the one other woman in the room is less prone to physical displays of affection.

“Mila.” I don’t insult her with a formal greeting that would include her patronymic name.

She hated her father with a passion. The Lenkov printsessa is a ruthless killer wrapped up in a stunningly beautiful package.

There was a time when my uncle Boris considered her as a potential bride for me, but she married her family’s head of security.

Now I have Olivia. I’m glad a union with Mila wasn’t something I seriously entertained. She may be a force to be reckoned with, but Mila doesn’t compare to my bride.

Mila’s brother, Daniil, sits next to her. Their other brother, Timofey, is absent from the group, but that’s not unusual. He prefers to carry out plans rather than making them.

Damiano and Lorenzo Volante occupy two of the spaces across from the Lenkov siblings. Their brother, Gabriele, is a valued member of our group, but I haven’t seen him in the flesh for several years. Badly scarred in an ambush, he retreated to his villa in Rome and has barely emerged since.

Sev goes to sit with the Italians while I take the seat next to the last member of our group, Joe Dalgliesh. He’s here to represent the interests of the Cameron family to whom he’s closely related.

“Where’s Livvy?” Damiano asks.

There’s a hint of disapproval in his voice that I’ve chosen to attend this meeting alone, but he can hardly have expected me to bring Olivia with me. Spouses have no place at this table.

“My wife will join us later for dinner.”

“Excellent.” Mila flashes a feral grin. “I can’t wait to meet the woman who landed Piotr Reznov.”

“You’ll play nice,” Niamh warns. She grew up with the Lenkovs and is an honorary sister to them all. She knows, as we all do, that Mila loves to push people’s buttons, to see what they’re made of. I’m not sure if Olivia’s up to the challenge.

“I always play nice,” the sultry brunette answers with a pout.

“That’s far from true,” Daniil murmurs.

“So, what are we here for?” I interject before the siblings can launch into an endless round of bickering.

They’re fiercely protective of each other, but when they argue, it turns vicious fast. Mila usually emerges as the winner because she’s prepared to hurl the sort of insults Daniil is too gentlemanly to return.

“There are several items for discussion,” Niamh says. She runs these meetings like we’re the board of a corporation. It works well, mostly. “Joe, do you want to go first? Yours is the least complicated issue.”

“Aye.” With his blond hair and blue eyes, Joe looks like Niamh’s male counterpart.

He comes from a politically influential family based in Edinburgh and London.

Behind the golden boy image the media portrays of him lies a ruthless enforcer who’s not afraid to spill blood to advance his family’s interests.

“As you know, my brother’s been elected to parliament.

Our father’s positioning him to become the next prime minister of the UK. He needs me to make sure that happens.”

“So you’re stepping back?” Mila asks. “Will your cousin join us?”

“Aye, Sandy’s ready to step up.”

“Sandy?” Lorenzo screws his nose up.

“It’s a diminutive form of Alexander,” Niamh explains.

“I see. I thought we were going to have another woman in our ranks.” He holds his hands up in surrender when he sees Mila’s murderous expression. “Not that I object.”

None of us at this table has any problem having women in our group, provided they bring an appropriate skillset.

It’s one of our great advantages. The sexism that permeates some of our enemies’ organizations prevents them from making progress.

I may be a little sexist in my personal life, but as far as business is concerned, I’m willing to embrace anyone who can help things run smoothly.

“You believe Alexander is ready for the responsibility?” Damiano asks, getting the conversation back on track.

None of us knows Alexander Cameron well.

It was his brother, James, who initially joined our group.

He was murdered along with his parents and younger sisters four years ago in an event that shocked us all.

The Camerons had gone to the home of their rival, Stewart Drummond, to celebrate the signing of a marriage pact.

Alexander was to marry Stewart’s daughter, Cara, and put an end to a feud that had rumbled on for decades.

When they sat down to dinner, Stewart Drummond had Alexander’s entire family murdered.

Not even the girls, two of them still teenagers, were spared.

Alexander escaped the initial slaughter, but was chased down and shot in the stomach.

He tumbled sixty feet off the edge of a cliff and landed in a freezing river.

Somehow he survived. Niamh Donnelly’s men found him and took him for medical treatment.

She’s helped him to hide all this time while he recovered his strength and planned his return.

“Is he fit enough?” Daniil asks before I can voice the question.

Alexander suffered amnesia and has only recently regained his memories.

“He is.” It’s Niamh, rather than Joe, who replies. “I’ve spoken to him several times and apart from the occasional headache, he’s back to his old self.”

“And all our current arrangements will remain in place?” Damiano checks.

Our trading routes through Glasgow to Ireland and then onto North America are working well. Nobody wants to upset the balance.

“Aye, the transition will be a smooth one. Alexander’s eager to let the world know he’s alive and get back to business as usual.”

“Okay.” Sev slaps a hand down on the table. “Let’s vote on it.”

“There is one issue that needs to be resolved before Alexander comes out of hiding,” Niamh says.

“What?” Lorenzo asks. He looks bored of this conversation now. It’s typical of him. Unless we’re focusing on one of his pet projects, he doesn’t show much interest in anything.

“His youngest sister, Eilidh, is still alive,” Joe says.

“What?” Mila glares at Niamh, so I’m guessing she didn’t share this information with her closest friend.

“You’re sure about this?” I ask.

“Yes.” Niamh takes out her cellphone and hands it to me.

There’s a photograph on it of a young brunette standing next to an older man.

Her head is bowed, but her face is tilted toward the camera.

Her expression is one of defiance, but there’s also fear in her eyes.

“That’s Eilidh Cameron standing next to Jason Henry. ”

“How is this possible?” Sev reaches across the table to take the phone from me. “I thought all their throats were slit.”

Joe shrugs. “That’s what we thought, but Henry obviously spared her. She was first seen out with him about three months ago, right after Stewart Drummond died. Henry’s telling people he’s her guardian.”

“We think he’s showing her off before marrying her off to the highest bidder,” Niamh says. “My sources tell me Semyon Barevsky has been spending a lot of time in Scotland. We think he’s interested.”

“Fuck!” Damiano makes his thoughts known for the first time. “If that monster gets his hands on the girl, she’ll wish she’d died alongside her family.”

I have to agree. My past dealings with Barevsky have always been deeply unpleasant. His primary trade is in women and children. I wouldn’t discount any of the rumors I’ve heard about his depravity.

“So what’s the plan?” Mila asks. “Do we go in and get her?”

Niamh shakes her head. “We can’t risk storming in and causing a bloodbath.”

“So what?” Lorenzo asks, now more invested in the conversation because he hates men who hurt women. “You leave her there and risk her becoming Barevsky’s latest toy?”

“No,” Niamh flashes him a sweet smile that suggests she’s about to drop a surprise on him.

“We’re going to send in a suitor of our own.

Alexander can’t reveal himself until he knows she’s safe.

He wants her married into a family he can trust to look after her.

The Volantes are known for their honor.”

Lorenzo shakes his head when he realizes what she’s hinting at. “Don’t look at me. I’m no knight in shining armor.”

“Nor I,” Damiano says.

“As if she’d try to marry some poor girl off to either of you!” Mila snipes.

“You’re not thinking of Gabriele?” Daniil asks.

“It might persuade him out of the house,” Lorenzo says.

Damiano shakes his head. “Even if it did, he’d be no good for this girl. If she’s been kept prisoner all these years, she’ll need careful handling.”

“What about Giovanni?” I suggest. “He’s in Scotland at the moment.”

“I didn’t consider him,” Niamh admits. “I thought he was trying to distance himself from the family.” She looks at Damiano. “What do you think?”

“No idea,” the Italian replies. “Gio has always been a mystery to me.”

“Ask Olivia about him tonight,” I tell Niamh. “My wife will know if he’s a suitable candidate or not.”

“You don’t mind us talking business with your wife?” Daniil checks. I know he’s of the belief that his work and personal lives should be kept separate as much as possible.

“Not at all,” I reply. “And it’s not really business, is it? This is a personal matter.”

“True,” Niamh agrees. “Thank you, Piotr.”

“Now, shall we vote on welcoming Alexander into the fold?” Conscious that Olivia will arrive for dinner in just over an hour, I want to move things on.

“Yes.” Niamh looks around the table. “All those in favor of Alexander Cameron taking his rightful place among us, say aye.”

A murmur of assent goes around the table.

“Good.” Niamh looks at Mila, signaling that she’ll be the next to raise an issue. “Now, let’s get onto the main order of business. Mila, do you want to tell us what you’ve learned about the Albanian’s new partnership with the Corsican Union?”

As Mila launches into detail about how the two groups have come together to disrupt their business at the port of Marseilles, I grin.

This is the sort of problem our group was created to solve.

By the time the people around this table have had their say, we’ll have come up with a plan that will make our enemies wish they’d stuck to their own territory.