Page 7

"Price is nonnegotiable," I said, puffing out a thick cloud of smoke as I sat in the back of the spacious SUV.

Wednesday lunch at Vostok Kitchen was normal—it was customary.

And one of my dealers is fucking it all the way up.

"You don't sell, you get replaced," I murmured, taking another long hit of the cigar I was smoking and hotboxing the SUV with, "Simple," I sighed, exhaling the smoke.

And before he had a chance to counter my statement, I ended the call and slid my phone into my purse—glancing over to the restaurant we pulled in front of.

My driver got out first, opening the back door for me and helping me down from the tall SUV.

My pointy black stilettos clicked against the snow-covered pavement—tugging my fur coat closed as my men swarmed to my sides.

The familiar restaurant was dim and quiet, just as I preferred it—the soothing deep red lighting emphasizing the black leather booths and marble floors.

It was always hard to make out the faces here.

But I spotted hers immediately.

She sat with Nikolai and Ivan, her dark eyes shifting up my covered body to meet my light eyes.

She motioned her head over first, emphasizing her sharp jawline under the shadowed light.

I turned on my heel, walking away against her silent demand.

I felt the energy of the room shift immediately.

How every pair of eyes darted behind me as soon as the chair roughly scraped the floor.

And a knife flew past me—barely grazing the side of my face as I sharply leaned to the side, causing the knife to dig into the nearest wall.

"Sit, Zinovia," her familiar voice echoed behind me, forcing the already quiet restaurant to grow tensely silent.

"You follow me," I said over my shoulder, refusing to meet her stare.

The air stilled with silence for another second.

Three seconds to be precise.

Until Sevan suddenly said—

"You don't want me to follow you."

I turned back around to face her, noticing the distance she had already closed between us.

"You don't want me to sit," I emphasized back to her, my jaw tight and my chin tilted back to level our stare, "I throw food—not share it."

Sevan nodded once, yet she didn't say anything.

Her dark eyes simply traced my face for a moment, her silence growing so tense that I naturally anticipated what she might say.

But she never spoke a word.

She grabbed the front of my neck instead.

And dragged me through the restaurant by her side, forcing me to stumble backward over my own feet.

The more I fought, the tighter her grip grew.

Until I physically couldn't breathe—forced to remain still under her firm hold as she continued to drag me.

Even if I continued to stumble over my own heels, pulling and scratching at her hand.

She tugged my hair in response—earning a grunt from me.

The most nauseating sound of my weakness.

I expected the cold air to wrap around me—to feel the roughness of the air filled with flurries.

Instead, Sevan cut down a hallway near the entrance.

The workers looked unfazed from what I could tell, leaning to the side as Sevan now gripped my neck tighter—causing me to shake and wheeze for air.

Until eventually we were in a room filled with things my blurry vision couldn't make out.

I just recall stumbling onto a couch as soon as she harshly pushed me into the room—slamming the door shut behind her.

I recovered quickly despite my blurry vision and burning lungs—slipping the pocket knife out of my coat pocket.

I lunged for her, pushing her back against the nearest wall and holding the knife to her neck.

The metal sliced her skin so perfectly, drawing a subtle amount of blood for the inconvenience she just caused me.

"Zinovia," Sevan said, her dark eyes staring down at me with a clear warning.

"Koslov," I corrected her, my voice hoarse and my accent strong.

"I'm all up for knife play Zinovia," Sevan said, ignoring my previous correction, "But you cut me again and I'm locking you in this room and throwing away the fucking key," she said, tilting her head in emphasis.

I only dug the knife in deeper, "It's worth slitting your throat," I mumbled, narrowing my eyes at her.

Sevan lazily raised your brows, "Is it worth your dogs?" she asked, her dark eyes analyzing my face, but I didn't show an ounce of emotion.

Even if the idea of her even thinking about hurting my precious girls made me want to rip her to shreds.

"What about the new house guests you have?" Sevan asked, her raspy voice in a low whisper as she glanced between my eyes, "I can ruin more than your mafia Zinovia," she said, leaning closer to me despite the knife digging further into her neck.

I clenched my jaw as soon as I felt her hand wrap around my wrist—slowly guiding my hand away from her shoulder that I pinned in place.

"Submit," Sevan said, her voice almost echoing in my head like a conscience.

My jaw grew tighter as she ran her hand around my other wrist—the one responsible for holding the knife to her neck.

But this time Sevan didn't pull it away.

She only stared me directly in the eyes, entirely unfazed by our current position and her softened hold around my wrist.

Her touch felt surprisingly warm—so warm that it made shivers tickle my spine.

A rough sigh suddenly fell from my lips, tugging the knife away from her neck and my wrist out of her hold.

"I have shipment sold by the end of the week," I mumbled, eyeing her blood littering my once clean knife, "You leave me alone until then."

Sevan's lips twitched up, entirely amused by my demands, "You work for me," she emphasized, her dark eyes never wavering from mine, "I'll drop in on you whenever I see fucking fit Zinovia."

I clenched my jaw, mumbling a few Russian cuss words targeted at her under my breath.

"Say it louder or don't say it at all," Sevan said, taking a firm step toward me.

I narrowed my eyes at her, "You heard me," I said, knowing that my words were still loud enough to hear in this silent room.

Sevan's lips tilted up even more.

Before they fell back down, entirely unamused by my words.

"I'm done speaking Zinovia," Sevan determined, drawing in an irritated breath, "I act from here on out—no more fucking warnings."

I shrugged, "I grow tired of empty threats," I sighed, entirely unaffected by her words.

Until Sevan took another step toward me.

And revealed her own knife that she carried.

My knife fell to the ground in a matter of seconds, now pinned to the wall I once held her against.

And instead of a subtle cut—Sevan slit the knife down my neck.

And even if it was a small slice, the cut oozed blood down my neck.

She knew where the main pressure points were to draw the most blood.

Something only I typically knew in a fight.

"Have the shipment sold by tomorrow," Sevan purposely said, visibly out of patience with me.

I narrowed my eyes, "I said end of week—"

I cut myself short with a grunt when she ran her free hand over my burning cut lingering with blood.

Only to smear it across my face.

"I kill you," I gritted, pushing away from the wall.

Sevan only slammed me back even harder, causing an ache to weigh down my head.

"Tomorrow or you see what I'm really capable of Zinovia," Sevan said, letting me go entirely.

Which immediately made me stumble away from the door, reaching up to my face smeared with my own blood.

"Tables turn," I mumbled, eyeing her face.

And then her neck that had a similar cut to mine.

Only mine bled worse and I hated it.

"The tables will turn if you listen," Sevan specified, not even bothering to clean her knife off as she flicked it back in and slid it into the pocket of her loose pants.

And before either of us could contribute anything else to our hostile conversation—

A phone rang.

My phone?

But I didn't glance away from her dark eyes, sliding my phone from my pocket and answering it.

"Da," I said, holding the cold phone to my ear.

"Ms. Koslov?" an unfamiliar feminine voice flowed from my phone speakers.

I was confused.

I didn't show it.

"Da," I said again, watching as Sevan's dark eyes remained precisely locked with mine.

"Arina Orlova seemed to have gotten into an incident, we can try to call Yury Orlova if this is a bad—"

"I'll be there soon," I spoke calmly, cutting her short before she could mention bothering the frail older man.

"Great we'll see you—"

I cut her short by ending the call, rolling my eyes to myself as I slid my phone back into my coat pocket.

"That sounded important," Sevan asked me in a mocking tone as I tugged my jacket tightly closed, "Anything you want to share?"

I lazily raised my brows, "I don't share anything," I emphasized, walking toward the door.

"That's about to change," Sevan said as she followed me out of the room.

I hummed tightly, "I have no time for a second fight with you—leave me alone, Sevan," I said, walking down the dim hallway she had previously dragged me down.

I clenched my jaw as soon as she grabbed my arm and jerked me back to her.

But only to run her hand up my arm, subtly leaning into the back of my body.

Which naturally made me bite down on the inside of my cheek—recognizing the dangerous feeling brewing inside of me.

It was her warmth that grazed me—how her bold cologne wrapped around me and forced me to draw in a deep breath.

But there's a very thin line between us and I refuse to cross it.

"Tomorrow, Zinovia," she whispered in my ear, her raspy voice so soft that it made me question who was standing behind me.

Because it couldn't be her.

I jerked out of Sevan's hold as soon as she pulled away from my ear—quickly walking off to exit the restaurant as far away from her.

The familiar SUV sat waiting for me where both Ivan and Nikolai waited in the backseat.

The sight of them alone made me contemplate the idea of walking.

Mostly, because I know the lecture Nikolai is about to give me.

"I despise her," I said before Nikolai had a chance to speak, "She threatens everything before me and I despise her existence Kol."

Nikolai nodded, watching as I took a Xanax, "You do what's necessary," he said, eyeing my stoic face as I swallowed the pill, "You never let emotions cloud your judgment—why give her that power?"

I let out a long dramatic sigh.

He has a point.

I'm giving her so much power already by letting her affect me to the extent that I lead with my emotions.

Not anymore.

"I do what's necessary," I repeated Nikolai's previous words, glancing over to the driver, "Petrovsky Institute," I instructed the man who immediately nodded in acknowledgment.

The last place I had time to be at was my old private school—but a certain girl seems to find trouble wherever she goes.

Arina reminds me of a certain someone.

Unfortunately.

I let out a deep sigh as I relaxed against the smooth leather backseat, staring out of the tinted windows as I waited for my Xanax to kick in.

Petrovsky Institute was less than a ten-minute drive given its location in the busy city of Moscow.

The snowy brick building looked just as it did all those years ago—sitting before the familiar courtyard.

There were also the hideous plaid uniforms I despised so much.

I refused to even glance at the students I passed who wore the familiar fabric.

I had only one mission.

One place to be.

The Director's office.

Arina sat waiting for me with the unfamiliar older woman.

The last Director I recall had died a few years after I graduated from this school.

"Ms. Koslov," the woman spoke, yet I only glanced to the silent girl in her seat with her head down.

"We leave," I told The Director, not bothering to hear what Arina could've possibly done, "I send donation," I said, motioning Arina to stand up before I got confirmation.

Until my eyes immediately zoned in on her ruffled shirt, suddenly noticing her frizzy hair and grim expression.

"You tell me who touched her," I calmly said, turning to the older woman who sat behind the wooden desk.

My presence makes her uneasy.

Good.

"Arina got into a fight—"

"They messed with me first," Arina gritted through tight teeth, narrowing her stare at the woman.

I pressed a heavy hand to Arina's shoulder, "Respectful tone," I warned her, my green eyes narrowing down at her.

But Arina only avoided my eyes that later shifted away from her and back to The Director.

"You have these girls removed from the institute," I told the woman, wanting the unnecessary bullies gone.

"I'm very sorry Ms. Koslov but we can't do that," The Director said, drawing in a visible breath when I felt my entire face grow tight.

"Hallway Arina," I instructed the girl by my side.

Who didn't move an inch.

"I repeat myself again and the kitchen gets locked at night and the dogs sleep with me," I purposely told her, which immediately made Arina slowly back away from my side.

Even if I could feel her light eyes giving me the dirtiest look.

Until she was finally out of the room.

The desk was cold under my hands—but not as cold as my stare narrowed down at the woman sitting behind it.

"Forget years of funding down the drain," I spoke calmly to the woman, who grew more uneasy the longer I stood in her office, "This school won't exist by next month and I make sure of it."

The woman remained quiet.

I smiled tightly in response.

"You know who I am, da?" I said, never glancing away from the woman's eyes weighed down by noticeable bags.

"I do," the woman calmly said, even if her behavior screamed that she was nothing but scared of me.

It was how tense she looked—how she visibly swallowed as she looked up at me.

"You know what I'm capable of but you don't want to see," I murmured, leaning away from the desk and dusting my hands off in disgust, "Fix it or I cause problem for you and this institution," I said, turning away from the woman and walking out of the room before she could say anything else.

Arina sat outside of the office with the receptionist typing busily on her keyboard.

We didn't exchange a word.

Arina only stood and followed me out of the stale front office.

"You learn how to fight," I said, my heels clicking sharply underneath as Arina fast walked to keep up, "Weakness is ugly and you never experience it publicly."

Arina remained silent, still keeping up beside me as we approached the doors.

"I have you in lessons tomorrow," I said firmly, opening one of the tall doors for her to walk through first.

"I want my papa," Arina mumbled, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

I halted my steps immediately, forcing Arina's walking to slowly pause—reluctantly turning to face me.

"You don't tell him one word of your troubles. He has enough as it is," I told her, leaving no room for disagreement, "We keep him happy and healthy."

Arina rolled her eyes, "I keep him happy and healthy," she emphasized with a narrowed look, "There is no we."

I tilted my head, analyzing her sour expression.

But it wasn't hard to pick up on how intimidated she currently looked.

So I nodded.

"Da," I said, deciding not to fight this battle.

You pick and choose them and I don't want to fight an insecure little girl who wants her grandfather to herself.

"Only me and him," Arina whispered under her breath, turning on her heel away from me to walk toward the car.

Where Nikolai sat in the front seat with the driver, leaving room in the backseat for me and Arina to sit with Ivan.

Who Arina was visibly happy to see.

At least it distracted her from me.

Because my thoughts were elsewhere.

And directed on a certain person who disrupted my usual lunch.

Tables Turn.