Page 15

15

DMITRI

I send the text to Tash, knowing she’ll bristle at the early hour and my commanding tone. Good. After her little display with Matthews, she needs a reminder of who she belongs to.

My phone buzzes with an update from our surveillance team. Another Lebedev attack, this time at our shipping facility in Brooklyn. Three of our men were dead. I scroll through the damage report.

The door to my study opens. Nikolai strides in, his face carved from granite. “Conference room. Now.”

I follow him down the hall, where our top lieutenants await. The tension thickens as we enter. Alexi leans against the wall, arms crossed. Erik paces by the window.

I take my place at the head of the conference table, scanning the faces of our most trusted men. Viktor Popov sits to my left, his weathered face showing the scars of thirty years in the brotherhood. His expertise in weapons trafficking has kept our armories stocked through three wars.

Across from him, Ivan Morozov drums thick fingers against the mahogany. The old bear’s network of corrupt officials reaches from Boston to Moscow. His son died in last month’s attack—this is personal for him now.

“Report,” I command, and the room falls silent.

“Three dead at the docks,” Alexi says, pulling up security footage on the wall screen. “Professional hit team. They knew our rotation schedule.”

“We have a leak,” growls Morozov, his accent thickening with rage.

“Igor Lebedev is getting bold,” Viktor adds, leaning forward. “First the warehouse, now this. They’re trying to strangle our supply lines.”

Erik’s tactical assessment cuts through the tension. “They’re testing our defenses, looking for weak points before a larger move.”

“Then we show them there are no weak points,” Nikolai states. His calm authority settles the restless energy in the room.

I study the faces around me—men who’ve given decades of loyalty to my family. Men who’ve bled for us, killed for us. Their anger at this betrayal runs as deep as my own.

“Gentlemen,” I say, “it’s time we reminded everyone why the Ivanov name is feared.”

The predatory grins on their faces tell me they’re ready for war.

I lean back, watching my eldest brother command the room. Even after all these years, Nikolai’s presence demands attention without effort.

“They want war?” Nikolai’s voice carries that dangerous edge I know well. Then we’ll give them war. But we do this smartly, strategically.”

“We could hit their legitimate businesses first,” Alexi suggests, fingers dancing over his tablet. “Their shipping routes, their?—”

“No.” Nikolai cuts him off. “We need something that hurts deeper than money. Something personal.”

Erik shifts, his military training evident in how he analyzes each suggestion. “Igor Lebedev’s weakness has always been his family.”

“His daughter.” Ivan Morozov’s gravelly voice draws all eyes. “Katarina. She’s running a tech startup, completely legitimate. Keeps her distance from the family business.”

“She’s vulnerable,” Nikolai muses. “Living outside our territory, thinking she’s safe in her clean little world. One daughter, living alone, playing entrepreneur...”

“She has minimal security,” Viktor adds. “Thinks distance protects her.”

Nikolai’s gray eyes sweep the room. “Taking her would send a clear message. The Lebedevs aren’t untouchable anymore.”

The possibilities unfold in my mind. A legitimate businesswoman would make excellent leverage—harder for the Lebedev family to explain her disappearance to authorities without exposing their operations.

“I want eyes on her,” Nikolai orders. “Full surveillance. Every move, every contact, every weakness. But we wait. Let them think we’re reeling from their attacks while we gather intelligence.”

I tap my fingers against the polished table, considering our options. “They will expect retaliation. They’ll know we’re planning something bigger if we do nothing.”

“Exactly,” Erik says, his military mind already churning with possibilities. “Small strikes keep them off balance, make them waste resources looking over their shoulders.”

Alexi’s eyes gleam with that manic energy he gets when plotting. “I could disrupt their digital infrastructure. Nothing obvious—just enough technical glitches to cost them money and patience.”

“We need to be careful,” Nikolai cautions, his gaze settling on me. “What’s your take, Dmitri?”

I lean forward, choosing my words carefully. “While we plan Katarina’s extraction, we should remind them why crossing us is expensive. Hit their street-level operations—protection rackets, gambling houses. Nothing that screams Ivanov, but enough to keep them bleeding money and manpower.”

“The timing would work,” Erik adds. “Keep them distracted while we set up surveillance on the daughter.”

Nikolai considers this, his expression thoughtful. After a moment, he nods. “Agreed. We’ll authorize limited strikes. But nothing that could be traced back to us. Nothing that would put Katarina on high alert.”

The tension in the room eases slightly. We all know the value of patience in this game, but sometimes showing teeth is necessary. Igor Lebedev and his family need to learn that lesson again.

I try to focus on Viktor’s report about weapons shipments, but my mind drifts to Tash. The way she challenged me at the museum board meeting, fire in those green eyes.

“...increased security at the docks...” Viktor’s voice fades into background noise.

I shift in my chair, irritated by my lack of concentration. This meeting is crucial as we’re planning a war strategy. Yet all I can think about is how Natasha’s skin felt under my fingers, the soft gasp she tried to suppress when I?—

“Dmitri?” Nikolai’s sharp tone snaps me back. “Your thoughts on the new patrol rotation?”

“The schedule looks solid,” I say smoothly, grateful for years of practice maintaining my mask. “Though we should consider adding a secondary team during shift changes.”

Nikolai’s knowing look tells me he sees right through me. Of course, he does because he’s been watching me lose my legendary control ever since Ms. Blackwood walked into my life.

Ivan drones on about corrupt dock workers, but I remember how Tash threw that paperweight at my head. Such delicious defiance. No one else would dare. The crystal missed me by inches, yet all I wanted was to push her against that wall and?—

“Brother.” Alexi kicks my chair, earning a glare. “You’re missing the good part.”

I straighten, forcing myself to focus on the blueprints spread across the table. We’re discussing tactical positions, contingency plans, and the infrastructure of our empire. I should be fully engaged.

Instead, I wonder if Tash got my message about tomorrow’s early meeting. Wondering if she’ll wear that blue dress that hugs her curves just right. Wondering how long I can maintain this facade of professional distance before I?—

“Perhaps we should take a break,” Nikolai suggests, his tone dry with amusement. “Some of us need a moment to... clear their heads.”

I pour myself a scotch as the others take a break. Alexi immediately sprawls across the leather couch, grinning like the devil he is.

“So... museum curators must be fascinating creatures. Tell us more about their natural habitat, brother.”

I shoot him a warning look. “Focus on your tech raids.”

“Oh, he’s focusing alright,” Erik chimes in, helping himself to coffee. “Focusing on how you nearly drooled on those patrol schedules while daydreaming.”

“I did not?—”

“You did,” Nikolai interrupts, his usual stern expression cracking with amusement. “I haven’t seen you this distracted since that time in Moscow when you forgot your own cover story because the ballet dancer?—”

“We agreed never to mention that,” I growl, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. These bastards know me too well.

“At least the curator hasn’t made you crash a car yet,” Alexi quips. “Remember when Erik was so busy thinking about that nurse that he drove straight into?—”

“That was different,” Erik protests, throwing a pen at Alexi’s head. “And if you finish that story, I’ll tell them about you and the Swedish diplomat’s daughter.”

“Children,” Nikolai sighs, but his eyes sparkle with rare warmth. “Though I must say, Dmitri, it’s refreshing to see you human for once. Even if your timing is terrible.”

“Says the man who postponed a major weapons deal because Sofia sneezed,” I counter.

My brothers burst out laughing, and even Nikolai can’t maintain his dignified facade. These moments are rare—when we can drop our masks and just be brothers instead of crime lords. When the weight of empire lifts just enough to breathe.

“Seriously though,” Alexi says, wiping tears from his eyes, “you should see your face when someone mentions her name. It’s like watching a computer malfunction.”

“I hate all of you,” I mutter into my scotch, but there’s no heat. These idiots are my family, after all.