Page 26 of Nine Months to Bear

That’s what’s got me stopped up. Frustrated in a way I’ve never been before. I released the tension by pulling up her hijacked security feed in the middle of the night.

Tried to, at least. But even now, watching her, I’m still wired.

I glance across the table. Taras is hunched over spreadsheets, too busy orchestrating the delicate dance of moving money between accounts to stay ahead of the federal investigation. He doesn’t even notice my personal drama.

For months, the IRS and FBI have been circling Safonov Holdings, searching for proof of money laundering, racketeering, human trafficking—anything to bring down the Bratva and itspakhanalong with it.

I should be doing the same thing as Taras, focusing on the numbers in front of me—shell companies, offshore accounts, the paper trail we’ve carefully constructed to look legitimate.

Instead, I’m watching Olivia straighten those fucking flowers like, if she gets them perfect enough, her life won’t continue falling apart.

“The feds seized another property in Back Bay yesterday,” Taras remarks, not looking up from his laptop. “That makes three this month. They’re claiming it was purchased with laundered money from the club.” He slides a document across the black desk and finally notices the security feed up on my tablet. “Oh, pardon me. I wouldn’t want millions in potentially traceable funds to interrupt your regularly scheduled creeping.”

I don’t look up. “Every time she gets bad news, she goes straight to those orchids.”

On screen, Olivia’s face tightens as she reads an email. Her fingers curl into a fist before she stands and walks directly to the flowers. Back straight. Movements controlled.

“For fuck’s sake, man.” Taras doesn’t bother hiding his amusement. “At least pretend to look at the numbers while you stalk her. I’m feeling neglected.”

“It’s research,” I growl. But that lie is starting to sound like bullshit, even to me.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Taras leans back, grinning. “Very thorough ‘research.’ Tell me, what’s the ROI on watching her fix her hair seventeen times this morning?”

“Any word on that missing employee?” I ask, changing the subject.

Taras’s smile fades. “Nothing. He’s been M.I.A. for two weeks now.”

“Keep looking. He’s either dead or working for the feds. And if it’s the latter, we’ll make sure he’s dead soon enough.”

“Or working for Iakov,” Taras says quietly, presenting his favorite of the theories.

The name lingers between us.Iakov Zakharov.

I push away from my desk, tension coiling in my shoulders. Iakov’s been a thorn in my side since I took control of the Bratva five years ago. After my father’s death when I was only a teenager, my uncle Vasily took on the mantle ofpakhan. It was supposed to be temporary, only until I was of age… then he married my mother and tried to make himself legitimate.

Iakov’s father, Mikhail, was my uncle’s right hand, which made him an enemy of mine. When I orchestrated my uncle’s downfall, Mikhail lost everything. Rather than face the shame, he put a bullet in his own brain.

Now, his son wants revenge. But instead of challenging me like a man, Iakov is hiding in the shadows. Planting moles, talking to the feds, looking for ways to oust me.

“How much does he know about Aster Fertility Solutions?” I ask. My eyes drift back to the surveillance feed where Olivia is now typing furiously at her computer.

“Nothing concrete yet.” Taras follows my gaze and sighs. “But are you sure this is the right play? There are other legitimate businesses we could acquire that don’t come with so many… complications.”

By complications, he meansher. The doctor with perfect posture and too much spice. The woman who stood in my own home and called me an asshole to my face.

“AFS is perfect,” I argue. “Small enough to fly under the radar but established enough to be credible. Government licenses. Medical infrastructure. A squeaky-clean founder with family connections to half the hospital boards in the city.”

“A founder who is also drowning in debt and hates your guts,” Taras points out.

“I can pay her debts, and she’ll come around.” I zoom in on her face. There are shadows under her eyes that weren’t there yesterday. “She’s losing clients weekly. Her lawyer, Jimmy, tells me they’re one bad quarter away from bankruptcy.”

Taras raises an eyebrow. “You have her lawyer on payroll now?”

“Not officially. But he’s amenable to reason, unlike his stubborn cousin.” I tap the screen where Olivia is now staring at her quarterly projections. I can practically see the negative numbersburning in her eyes. “He just needed some help with his gambling debts.”

“Jesus, Stefan.” Taras shakes his head. “This whole plan is elaborate, even for you. We could just buy the place outright.”

“And have the feds crawling all over the transaction within hours?” I scoff. “No. Olivia needs to come to me. She needs to give it to me.” My cock twitches again, misinterpreting my meaning. I clear my throat. “She’ll hand everything over willingly, and by the time anyone connects the dots, it’ll be too late to trace.”