Page 20

I lean back in my chair, rolling my whiskey glass between my fingers, the amber liquid catching the dim light of the chandelier above. The office smells faintly of smoke, remnants of a cigar I put out earlier. My jacket is draped over the back of my chair, sleeves rolled to my elbows. The house is eerily quiet tonight.

No maids. No guards. No distractions.

Except for one. Julie.

Somewhere upstairs, locked away in my home, my wife—a title that still feels foreign on my tongue. But right now, she isn’t my concern. Business is.

Across from me, Ivan lounges in his chair, but the usual cocky grin is missing. Instead, he slides a folder onto my desk, his fingers tapping against the wood as his gaze meets mine.

“How did the meeting with Evans go?” he asks.

I swirl the whiskey in my glass before taking a slow sip. “Better than expected. He’s interested, and he already favors us over the Spades.”

Ivan raises a brow. “That easy?”

I smirk. “Nothing is easy in this business, but Evans knows we offer stability. The Spades? They’re chaos, unreliable. He doesn’t trust them to keep their word.”

Ivan chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “They must be fuming.”

“They should be.” I set my glass down, fingers drumming against the desk. “They’ve been after him for months, and now, I’ve taken him right out from under them.”

Ivan leans back, stretching his legs out. “Speaking of the Spades, they haven’t made a move yet. It’s been too quiet.”

I nod slowly. “Yet.”

Silence lingers between us, heavy with unspoken understanding. The Spades are planning something. They have to be.

I sigh, rubbing a hand down my jaw. “They’re waiting for the right moment. Letting us think we’ve won before they strike.”

Ivan watches me carefully, eyes narrowed. “Are you letting yourself get comfortable?”

I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Never.”

I don’t do comfortable. Comfort breeds weakness. Weakness is what gets men like me killed.

Ivan’s expression shifts, something unreadable passing over his face. “There’s something else I need to tell you.”

I gesture for him to continue.

“The evidence against Sophia,” he says, his voice lowering. “It’s too obvious.”

My fingers tighten around the whiskey glass. “Explain.”

Ivan slides the folder closer. “I looked into it again. The way the evidence was left behind—it feels deliberate. Like someone wanted us to find it.”

I flip through the pages, scanning over the financial transactions, the witness statements. The supposed proof that Sophia orchestrated Valeri’s death.

It all adds up. Too perfectly.

I narrow my eyes. “You’re telling me she wanted to get caught?”

“No.” Ivan shakes his head. “Think about it. Sophia is calculated. She’s too smart to make mistakes like this. So why now?”

I exhale slowly, setting the papers down. If Ivan is right—and he usually is—then this entire thing is a setup.

Someone wants me to believe Sophia is guilty. Who? More importantly, why?

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “Who benefits from this?”

Ivan scratches his chin. “A third party, maybe? Someone looking to weaken both you and the Spades?”

My mind runs through the possibilities, each one as dangerous as the last. A setup like this could only mean one thing—there’s another player in the game.

“I don’t like this,” I mutter, more to myself than Ivan.

Ivan scoffs. “Neither do I.” He crosses his arms. “So, what do you want to do?”

I inhale deeply, considering. If Sophia isn’t behind Valeri’s death, then someone else is. Someone who wants me distracted.

I don’t like being manipulated. I hate being played.

I close the folder and lean back, meeting Ivan’s eyes. “We don’t make a move yet. Not until we know who we’re dealing with.”

Ivan nods. “Agreed.”

I roll my shoulders, tension coiled tight in my muscles. “We will make a move. When the time is right.”

Ivan smirks. “Now that’s the Mikhail I know.”

I don’t return his grin. My mind is already miles ahead, piecing things together, planning my next steps. There’s one thing I do know for sure.

Whoever really killed Valeri? They’re going to regret thinking they could outplay me.

I lean back in my chair, watching as Ivan closes the folder with a sharp thump. He’s already on his feet, eager to start digging. “I’ll get on this right away,” he says, determination laced in his voice.

“Good,” I say. “Find out who planted that evidence and what the Spades are planning.”

Ivan nods before turning toward the security monitors that line the far wall. With a few keystrokes, he pulls up the camera feeds, flicking through angles of the estate. I let my gaze drift to the screen, barely paying attention at first.

Until I see her. Julie. She’s curled up in the library, a book in her lap, completely unaware that she’s being watched.

My jaw tightens as I take her in—those long, bare legs tucked beneath her, the soft white blouse just sheer enough to hint at the curves underneath. The tiny pair of shorts barely cover her thighs, riding up with the slightest movement. Her curly hair tumbles over her shoulder as she leans forward, fingers trailing idly across the pages of her book.

I exhale slowly, a tight coil of something dark twisting in my gut. She looks sweet. Innocent, almost. I know better. That mouth of hers is sharp, her defiance burns, and she’s no stranger to provoking me.

It’s in moments like this—when she’s lost in her own world, unaware of my gaze—she looks so untouched. Untouched by the filth of this world, untouched by anyone else. The thought sends a surge of possessiveness through me.

Ivan flicks through another feed, but I stop him with a low, warning tone. “Wait.”

He pauses, glancing at me with raised brows. I ignore him, my focus locked on the screen.

Julie shifts, stretching her legs out, tilting her head back just slightly. The curve of her throat is exposed, delicate and inviting. I can imagine the warmth of her skin beneath my lips, the way her pulse might stutter if I kissed down the line of her neck, down lower—

Damn it.

I drag a hand over my face, exhaling sharply through my nose. I shouldn’t be this distracted, not with everything going on. She’s in my house, my bed, wearing my last name, and it’s starting to eat away at my control.

“You good?” Ivan asks, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

I school my expression into something unreadable. “Focus on your job.”

He snorts but doesn’t press. The camera feed shifts away from the library, and I turn my attention back to the desk, picking up the stack of paperwork I’d been avoiding.

Business. Power. Control. That’s what matters.

As I force myself to read through the details of upcoming shipments and financial transactions, my mind keeps drifting—keeps returning to the girl in the library.

My fingers tap against the armrest as Ivan flicks through more camera feeds, scanning the estate’s perimeter. The grainy black-and-white footage cycles through every inch of the grounds—gateways, corridors, driveways, even the farthest reaches of the gardens.

“There’s not a single gap,” Ivan says confidently, crossing his arms. “We’d know the second anyone so much as breathed near this place.”

I nod, though my mind is still preoccupied with something else. The Spades will make a move. Whether it’s tomorrow or a month from now, I can feel it coming.

I glance at Ivan. “Focus on Sophia. I want to know who she’s working with, who benefits from all of this.”

Ivan grins. “Funny. You sound like you’re starting to doubt she had anything to do with Valeri’s death.”

I shake my head. “Well, if she didn’t kill him outright, perhaps she had nothing to do with it at all, even coincidentally.”

Ivan huffs, clearly enjoying the puzzle. “I’ll dig. Maybe I’ll even get a few guys to start sniffing around, see if anyone in the Spades’ ranks has loose lips.”

“Good. The sooner we figure this out, the sooner we can put an end to this.”

Ivan leans against the desk, cracking his knuckles. “Then what?” His smirk turns wicked. “Once all this shit is over, you and your pretty little wife can finally relax.”

I glare at him, unimpressed.

He laughs. “What? I’m just saying, man. You’ve had your hands full with business and revenge. Once things settle, you’ll have all the time in the world to really enjoy married life.” He wiggles his eyebrows in a way that makes me want to punch him.

I just grunt in response, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Ivan shakes his head, still grinning. “You’re really no fun anymore.”

I give him a pointed look. “I don’t remember ever being fun.”

“That’s exactly my point.” He sighs dramatically before pushing off the desk. “Fine. I’ll keep my head in the game, Boss. You should consider loosening up now and then. You might actually enjoy life.”

I don’t bother responding, and Ivan takes that as his cue to leave. The door swings shut behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I roll my shoulders, exhaling slowly. It’s been a long day, but there’s still work to do. I grab my laptop and pull up the details on our latest shipment, trying to shift my focus back to business.

Still, Ivan’s words linger. Once this is over….

What then?

For years, my life has been defined by control—by revenge, power, and calculated decisions. The marriage to Julie was supposed to be just another move on the chessboard, a way to bring the Spades to their knees. Now, she’s here, in my home, in my bed, weaving herself into my life in ways I never anticipated.

I push thoughts of Julie aside and focus on the tasks at hand. I have work to do, loose ends to tie up, and an entire empire to protect. There’s no time for distractions. Not even her.

The phone on my desk buzzes, cutting through the quiet of my office. I answer without hesitation, pressing the device to my ear.

“Sharov,” I say.

A gravelly voice responds on the other end. “Mikhail, my friend. I hear you’ve been asking questions.”

I recognize the voice instantly—Andrei Volkov, an old contact with ears in every corner of the criminal underworld. He owes me a favor, one I haven’t cashed in. Until now.

“I have,” I confirm, leaning back in my chair. “I hope you have answers.”

Andrei chuckles, the sound low and knowing. “I might, but you know how this works.”

Of course, nothing comes for free. “Tell me what you have, Andrei.” I put him on speaker, setting the phone on my desk as I lean back in the chair.

“You’re looking into Sophia Spade,” he muses, as if tasting her name on his tongue. “Can’t say I know much beyond what everyone else does. Cunning woman, dangerous in the right ways. Careful. Meticulous. Which is why I find it strange that you seem to have such easy evidence against her.”

I tense at his words. Ivan said the same thing earlier. “Go on.”

“She has enemies, Mikhail,” Andrei continues. “Rivals. People who would love to see the Spades crumble from the inside. What better way to weaken them than to take out one of their most valuable players?”

I don’t react outwardly, but something clicks into place in my mind. Sophia might be an enemy, but she’s not a fool. Leaving evidence behind so obviously? It doesn’t add up.

“Who stands to gain the most from her being out of the picture?” I ask, my tone sharp.

Andrei sighs. “That’s the thing. The Spades have no shortage of enemies. There’s no direct link to anyone obvious. If she was set up, whoever did it covered their tracks well.”

Frustration tightens my grip on the phone. I need something concrete. A lead. Anything.

“I need names,” I say. “Anyone with a grudge. Anyone with connections to Valeri’s murder.”

“You think I’d hold out on you?” Andrei sounds amused. “Believe me, I’ve dug. Nothing ties back cleanly. But I’ll keep my ears open. You know I always do.”

It’s not the answer I want, but I know better than to push Andrei when there’s nothing to push for.

“Do that,” I say. “Let me know if anything changes.”

“Of course.” There’s a pause before Andrei adds, “Careful, Mikhail. You’re looking at shadows. Sometimes, shadows look back.”

I hang up without responding. I don’t need his warnings.

I sit in silence for a moment, running through everything in my mind.

Sophia might not be guilty. Or, at the very least, not guilty in the way I thought she was. Someone wanted her out of the picture, and they used Valeri’s death to make it happen.

I rub my temples. So who? I have more calls to make. More favors to call in.

Except after an hour, the results are the same. Nothing.

Every contact, every informant, every person I trust (which isn’t many) either knows nothing or isn’t willing to talk. It’s like running into a brick wall over and over again, and it makes my blood boil.

I don’t like being in the dark. In fact, I hate being in the dark.

I need answers, and if nobody can give them to me, I’ll tear apart this city until I find them myself.

I’m about to make another call, when I shift uncomfortably. Something feels off. The hairs on the back of my neck rise. A slow, creeping sensation inches up my spine, warning me that I’m not alone.

I’ve been in this business too long to ignore instincts like these.

I push back from my desk, the leather chair creaking under my weight as I rise to my feet. My gaze flickers to the corners of the room, to the security camera in the far-left corner, blinking red, recording as it should. There’s no obvious sign of intrusion, but that doesn’t mean someone isn’t listening.

Casually, I reach for my glass, taking a slow sip of whiskey as I move toward the door. I don’t give anything away, keeping my expression neutral, my steps unhurried.

I pull the door open in one smooth motion and step into the hall.

Silence. The corridor stretches out ahead, dimly lit by the sconces along the walls. Empty. That doesn’t ease the tension in my gut.

I take another step forward, listening. There’s nothing—no sound, no movement. Maybe I’m being paranoid. Or maybe someone was here, and they’re just good at disappearing.