Page 13 of Scarlet Sins (Yegorov Bratva #2)

Chapter Ten

DEMYAN

I groan as the doorbell rings.

Fucking Stefina, at nine a.m. sharp. Olga pokes her head into my study, and I lean back in my chair, answering the unasked question.

“Put her in the formal sitting room and tell her to stay.”

If she’s surprised, then she doesn’t show it.

I keep that room for either very important guests I don’t trust, or…

well, people I don’t trust or like and want to be made as uncomfortable as possible without having anything to complain about.

It’s opulent, feels important, and is so damn uncomfortable it feels like a prison cell.

I never use it. But that’s one thing my bastard of a father taught me. To intimidate and throw off people in unexpected ways.

“Oh, and Olga?”

“Yes, sir?”

I smile. “Don’t offer her anything and make sure she understands staying. Right now, I’m busy, but will be with her when I can.”

“Yes, Mr. Demyan. ”

I take my time with my work, going over the shipments that are due and the ones that sit in various warehouses, ready to be moved and distributed.

Pavel knocks on my door to discuss some details of the acquisition of some clubs I want. A perfect meld of legal and illegal. And situated on the cusp of some of Niko’s territories.

“Primed and ready for takeover when the time’s right,” I say. I run my gaze down the asking prices for the properties. “Good price.”

Anyone else would take credit for this, but Pavel understands his place and how things work. He understands trust and the importance of loyalty.

“All of that’s Ilya’s doing,” he says, taking the seat I offer him. “I just made sure it all went through. How is he?”

“Getting there,” I mutter. I called the hospital earlier. He’s no longer in a medically induced coma, is the phrase, but he’s not awake. At least, not awake like he should be.

I can’t help but shake the feeling it’s my fault. All of it. But I can’t let myself go there. Not until we move from this… stasis. Not until the Stefina thing is put to fucking bed.

“She’s pretty,” Pavel says, eyes on me. “But at the risk of offending your decisions, she’s not exactly you.”

I narrow my eyes at him and the change in conversation. “Elaborate.”

“The overdressed female waiting for you.”

“My fiancée?”

His mouth lifts slightly. But his gaze is hawklike, and he’s seeing how far he can push with his opinions.

I shift tactics. “Or Erin?”

“Erin? Ms. Banks is great. And Sasha’s a delight. At the risk of you shooting me in the face, and knowing you clearly made some kind of deal, I don’t like Sergio’s daughter. It’s like letting a viper into your nest.”

I consider his words. “She’s not her father. ”

“But he raised her.”

This is why Ilya likes him. Pavel’s made of the same ilk. “Right now, I’m planning a wedding that I’ve no idea how to get out of cleanly. This is between us.”

“I would never have thought differently.”

“If anything comes to you, if you hear anything about Sergio or her, then let me know.”

“Of course, sir.” He starts to rise. “I could see if I can find her someone else.”

“Maybe. But this isn’t about love or want. It’s power and control. Even if there was someone else, her father wouldn’t allow it.” And, I suspect, Stefina thinks my life’s different to what it is.

Not sure why as I attend as few events as possible, and those I do? I’m doing deals or have other agendas.

The business is my life. Controlling and growing my power base is my blood.

Until the pretty, blonde Erin came back into my life, with my son.

Now they take up a great deal of that life, own a huge amount of that blood.

“I need to find a way out. Dirt… something to make this agreement null and void.” I stand and approach him.

“Got it, Boss. I’ll poke around discreetly. My side project, okay?” Then he pauses. “Until Ilya’s on his feet again.”

Oh, that would be a gift. “When that happens, you’ll be working it together. If we haven’t resolved it by then.”

As he leaves, I replay the conversation. The comment about how pretty she is sticks.

Fuck, was Pavel thinking of offering himself as tribute or sacrifice to marry her?

I’ve got a feeling it crossed his mind and that’s where the difference is between him and Ilya. Ilya never would have done that because he knows it would lead to giving an in to Sergio.

Besides, Stefina wouldn’t do that.

Though the look of relief on his face when I told him I nixed the finding someone else had been borderline comical and I almost reach for the phone to tell Ilya.

Who can’t pick up.

The thought sobers me, and I check my watch. Time to go and deal with fucking Stefina.

Every fucking day she’s been here to plan this sham of a wedding neither of us wants. Or rather she wants for her father, but not because she has a single feeling for me. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.

Worse, perhaps, because I can’t rip apart feelings that don’t exist.

I open the door to the sitting room and she turns and smiles at me, bouncing up from her chair.

“Finally!” She holds up a thick book marked Wedding Ideas.

Fuck me to hell and back. I mutter some choice curses in Russian, which she clearly catches as a dark frown mars her overly made-up face.

“That better not have been for me, Demyan.”

“Why the fuck are you here? Again?”

“We don’t have time to waste. Now, I need a drink.” She starts to push past me.

I take her arm and she shakes me free. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“The kitchen. There’s more room in there, and I need to spread all this out.”

She marches off, swaying her hips, clearly not sure which way to go.

With a growl, I cut her off and lead her to the bright kitchen, where she sets herself up at the table, ordering Olga to make her some green tea. She pulls some from her bag and hands it to her. “This.”

Olga takes it. “We have green tea.”

“Mine is special. Imported from Japan.” Then she dismisses Olga and I make a coffee, watching as Stefina pours over her book, setting up swatches and cards and a list of places for flowers, cakes, caterers.

“I have some appointments to set up for the cakes. I want something spectacular. I’m thinking of a frosting that matches our outfits and also very Instagramable.”

I bite back a sigh. She’s way more interested in the wedding details than me. Personally, I’d rather she be as interested in the wedding and me on equal footing. Which is not at all.

“I don’t give a fuck,” I say.

“Nonsense. This is an us thing. And everyone knows the best vendors get snapped up early. With the cake, it’s not just the recipe but how they decorate it. And?—”

“As I said, I don’t give a fuck, Stefina. You don’t need to be here. And I’m busy. You’re free to make whatever wedding decisions you like. Down to the cake and menu and I’ll go along with it.”

Her eyes flash fire.

“And Demyan, I don’t think you have any interest in marrying me. I’m going to call Daddy!”

Fuck. Fuck.

What I want to do is tell her to fucking call her asshole father. But I don’t want to rock any boats until I have to.

I could call her out. She’s used to emotional blackmail, of pulling strings. So let her think she can do that… to a point. I’d rather have things smooth until they don’t need to than have her father double down. So I fucking aim for the facsimile of a smile .

“Stefina, I just don’t have the time or the inclination to spend every day planning the damned thing.”

She looks at me like I fucking slapped her.

“Do you really want my input? Because think about it carefully. I’d just rock up to the fucking town hall, get married that way. No dress, no wedding party, no cake, no nothing. Just a witness and the goddamn piece of paper. So. I’ll ask again. Do you want my input?”

“I want a big wedding. It’s what I demanded and I’m going to get. So if you think you can say things like that and you’ll get let off the hook or find a way out of this by running me off, think again. Because my father won’t stand for it. He’ll kill you if you fuck me over.”

The threat’s real and I’m about to say something to her when her eyes dart beyond me.

I turn.

Fuck again.

Alina and Erin and Sasha.

I don’t know what she heard and I’m not sure it matters because I know exactly how she feels about all this.

And they both stare at me. My sister and my woman.

Stefina’s gaze locks on Erin and in Russian, she mutters a classic insult. “She’s nothing but a car falling apart as it goes.” And then she adds one more word. “ Suka .”

Bitch.

I whip around to face her. “That’s enough, Stefina. You won’t talk about the mother of my son like that.”

Erin gasps and goes tense, her face turning white, just as Stefina’s goes dark.

“I talk to people how I want in my future home,” Stefina says.

But my gaze is on Erin.

“L—Erin… ”

She shakes her head. “Is that all I am to you?” she whispers.

The waters turn dangerous and my sister just stands there, offering nothing. Not that even if she had a bag of answers, she could. It would look too staged and make me look like a pushover.

Which in this moment, I feel I am.

“Here’s your tea,” Olga says, bravely stepping into the fray and placing the cup next to Stefina.

She sweeps it to the floor. “You steeped it too long.”

“I’m so sorry, Miss Stefina, I’ll get you another. Two minutes or three?”

“One and a half,” Stefina snaps as Olga starts to clean up.

“That wasn’t nice. And you don’t speak to anyone in my home with disrespect. Staff or Sasha’s mother.”

Those words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. What I want to say is you don’t speak to the woman I love that way. But something like that will humiliate Stefina, a crime that’ll make its way back to Sergio.

I turn to Erin. “And you know this is your home, too.”

“As the mother of your child. Maybe I can get a job on your staff.”

“Oh, hell no. I think we’ll downsize and move to your condo when we marry,” Stefina says. Then she sniffs. “That’s if you start paying attention to the wedding.”

“I don’t care about that stuff.”

“Just the ceremony?” Erin asks.

Stefina smirks. “More like the wedding night.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth. Or we’ll be getting married at the courthouse, whether your father approves or not. Now you’ll drink your tea when Olga brings it to you and you’ll like it.”

Stefina’s eyes narrow and she huffs out a breath, picking up her phone, her fingers flying across the screen .

But as she keeps going, ignoring me along with everyone else, I don’t think she’s texting her father. My phone stays resolutely silent.

“Erin, this is a difficult time, so I hope you can understand.”

“You better not touch her or else,” says Stefina. “We’re saving each other for the wedding night.”

“Stefina, go plan the wedding.”

Now she throws her phone down. “We have appointments starting in half an hour.”

I look at Erin.

And I don’t know what the fuck to say.

“I got the message.”

“Mama!” Sasha tugs on Erin. “Are you sad? Don’t be sad, Mama! Dino is mean. And the lady!”

“Boarding school,” Stefina snaps.

“Over my dead body,” Erin says.

Stefina smiles. “That can be arranged.”

“Stop it.” I swallow. “All of you.”

“As I said, message received.” And Erin scoops up Sasha, who hugs her tight.

Out of desperation, surrounded by seething women, I give my sister a silent plea of help.

Her lips press tight, but she nods and turns to Erin and Sasha. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

“But—”

“Now.” And not giving Erin a chance to say a word more, she drags her out the door.

My day’s just gone from bad to horrible and there’s more pain to come.

It’s not even ten a.m.

Fuck.