Page 28 of Velvet Chains (The Dark Prince of Boston #2)

Chapter Twenty-Three: Kieran

A lek Ivanov lived in a building that didn’t look expensive until you saw the cameras. Old red brick, three stories, ivy strangling one corner of the facade. There was a concierge tucked inside behind mirrored glass, and the buzzer system had a biometric scanner.

It was in a very nice neighborhood. I knew Alek made good money, but this had to be rent controlled. Or he came from money, which I didn’t think he did.

The lean startup years had been good to young lawyers with nerve and NYU Law degrees. He was efficient, I’d give him that. Securing a place like this before the tech bubble burst? Not bad.

I rolled my shoulders and pressed the buzzer. My hood was pulled low over my face, and my hands were shoved deep into my pockets. It was habit, not precaution. After years of being watched, the routine was automatic.

The concierge wasn’t watching me. Nobody was.

It meant I had the advantage; all I had to do was wait someone to leave the door open.

A couple came out of the building, laughing, and I caught the door before it shut.

They didn’t see me slip past, and the tabs on the mailbox gave me what I needed: Ivanov, 3F.

I walked up. His door was pale blue and looked expensive enough to make me wonder if it was soundproof. Light still glowed through the transom, and when I leaned close, I could hear the low hum of music—some pop hit from ten years ago.

I took a deep breath and knocked once.

He’d have seen me already if his mirrorglass was positioned right.

I knocked again. Harder. Finally, he opened the door. He wore sweats and bare feet, hair rumpled enough to give me hope that he’d just rolled out of bed instead of upending a case. He blinked at me. Not surprised. Just registering who the hell I was.

Then he went white. “Jesus.”

“Close,” I said. “Try again.”

His mouth opened, then shut. Of course he recognized me. “You can’t be here, Callahan.”

“But here I am.”

He blinked, shaking his head. It took me a second to notice he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“Mind if I come in?” I asked.

His hand tightened on the doorknob. He looked down the hall, then back at me. “How the fuck did you get in here?”

“Walked. Basic motor skill.”

I didn’t move. His gaze flicked to my jacket, as if deciding whether I was armed. Whether he needed to scream. Whether anyone else in this building would give a shit.

“Relax,” I said. “I’m just here to talk.”

“About what?” he said, voice steadier than I expected.

“The weather,” I said. “What else?”

He hesitated a minute longer, then opened the door wider.

“Fine. Come in.”

I stepped past him, still loose in case he changed his mind.

The apartment was larger than I expected, with exposed brick, original crown molding, mid-century furniture that looked like it actually was from mid-century.

The only semblance of clutter was one artfully arranged pile of law books on a vintage Parsons butler tray, next to two very tall, very sleek lamps.

“Nice place,” I said. “Who’s your decorator?”

His brow furrowed. “Decorator? I don’t have a decorator. Do you?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “It was nice to work with one when I bought my house.”

“I heard about your house,” Alek said, like it was an insult, not a compliment.

He walked to the sofa and grabbed a black shirt, slinging it over his head and adjusting it when he put it over his shoulders.

He looked at me for a long second before he spoke again.

“And you have a very high opinion of yourself if you think you can just show up here.”

I sat down in an expensive chair, watching him. “Like I said. I'm not here to make trouble.”

He didn’t sit. He watched me, still far too quiet. The music was the only sound between us. “Are you listening to Murder on the Dance Floor?”

“What? Look. I’m sure you’re not,” he said dryly. “But you should know: Ruby wouldn’t want this.”

“Ruby doesn’t know what she wants.”

He cocked his head. For a second, he looked angry. Then he just sighed heavily. “And you do?”

I shook my head.

“Not much, but more than she does. I know you’re in bed with the feds.”

Alek’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t waste my time or yours, Callahan.”

“So you’re not in bed with the feds?”

“I’m Ruby’s attorney. Not the feds.”

“Yeah? That why your name showed up on three different filings this week? Two from the Southern District?”

“Hey, Siri. Stop the music,” Alek said. The music stopped as Alek took a step closer to me before he sat on the edge of the sofa. “I’m going to give you a civics lesson, Batman. One-time offer, so listen closely. I’m not going to repeat myself.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Special Counsel to the DA means I oversee major case integrity and coordination. I don’t prosecute most cases myself anymore, but I interface with the feds all the time. FBI, DEA, ATF, DOJ. You name it. It’s my job. That’s not a secret, Kieran—it’s literally in my job title.”

“Funny how you didn’t answer the question.”

“No, I did,” he said. “You just didn’t like the answer.”

I leaned back. “The Southern District isn’t your jurisdiction.”

“And yet,” Alek said, folding his arms, “when a RICO case touches multiple circuits, it’s called interagency coordination. When a Boston-based defense attorney files a motion to suppress on behalf of a client also named in a New York trafficking case? Guess who reviews that motion.”

He gave me a look. One of those perfectly calibrated lawyer stares. Not hostile—just factual. Ruthlessly so.

“You think I’m selling her out?” he said. “You think I’m walking into DOJ war rooms with a fucking manila folder labeled Callahan Empire: Greatest Hits? Ruby is my family. I’m protecting her, at great fucking cost and risk to myself, because of you.”

I shrugged. “I think you’ve been talking to people who want Ruby to flip. I think you’ve been helping her come up with strategies that keep her out of a jumpsuit. I think you’re smart, Alek. And I think smart people hedge.”

That landed. Not hard, but enough. His mouth flattened.

“I advise her,” he said carefully. “I don’t control her. And if you think she’s a puppet, then you’ve never really known her.”

I smiled slightly. “That makes two of us.”

He exhaled. Walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water like he needed to cool off. He didn’t offer me one.

“Let me ask you something,” he said, voice casual. “Why now? Why the sudden interest in my DOJ calendar? You’ve never cared about federal procedure before.”

I didn’t answer.

He set the glass down. “Something spooked you.”

I shrugged again. “We’re all spooked.”

“Sure,” he said, “but you showed up at my door. Which means either Tristan Callahan is putting pressure on you…or Ruby isn’t answering your calls.”

That one I didn’t like.

Because he was right on both counts.

He saw it. Of course he did. He was Ruby’s best friend—probably the only person who could still get under my skin with a single sentence.

“She pulled back,” he said. “Didn’t she?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“She’s not doing it to hurt you,” Alek said. “She’s doing it because she’s finally being smart.”

My jaw clenched. “You think I’m the threat?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at me for a long moment, then said, “I think you’re dangerous. I think you like her. And I think both of those things are true.”

Like her? Like her? How could I make this man understand that what I felt for Ruby transcended far beyond liking, that it felt like it consumed every waking moment of my life, that all I could think about was her.

And what good would it do me? No fucking need to get into that right now when he was already being so unreasonable.

I didn’t know what pissed me off more: the accuracy or the pity.

“You want me to back off,” I said.

“I want you to recognize that if the feds are circling—and they are—then Ruby’s going to have to make choices. Legal ones. Ethical ones. Ones that don’t involve you.”

“I’m not…I wouldn’t hurt her.”

He looked at me for a long few seconds. “I believe that, I think. But what difference does it make when your brothers would? When your very presence could upend her life? When the fact that you’re around could ruin her daughter’s future?”

“Rosie is my daughter, too.”

“I mean, sure,” he said. “But DNA is just that. It takes a lot more than that to be a father. I’ve read about your dad, Batman. If anyone should know that, it’s you.”

“Keep my father’s name out of your mouth.”

“Okay,” he said. “I don’t want to talk about Malachy Callahan, trust me. I don’t want to talk about any Callahans.”

“I’m here because I want to make sure nothing happens to her.”

Alek didn’t flinch, but his tone shifted—less prosecutorial, more tired. “I get it. And I do want to talk about Ruby. Because if you care about her the way you say you do, then you need to start thinking less like a Callahan and more like a human being.”

I stood. Not fully. Just enough for him to know I could if I needed to. “Careful, Ivanov.”

“Calm down. What are you going to do? Beat me up? Don’t be a fucking child. Sit down.”

I wanted to hit him, but I didn’t. I glared at him. He didn’t back off.

“You break into my building, insult my job, and then start posturing in my living room?” he said, raising his brows. “You sure you’re not the one who should be careful?”

I let the moment stretch. Let it burn. Then I sank back into the chair, slowly.

“I’m not going to hurt her,” I said again, quieter this time. “I want to protect her.”

“Then act like it,” Alek snapped. “Because you want to know what protection really looks like, Kieran? It’s not showing up here trying to play chess with people’s lives.

It’s not blowing up her carefully constructed career because your feelings are hurt.

It’s certainly not dragging her into a RICO investigation that could cost her everything. ”

I clenched my fists. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you know it, but I don’t think you’ve accepted it. Ruby’s got one shot to come out of this intact. And she’s already spent too much time defending you, doing things your way. Things are fucked up beyond belief partly because of you. Well, fuck, mostly because of you.”

That got under my skin in a way I didn’t like. “She hasn’t defended me.”

“Oh, come on,” Alek said. “You think you’re not getting indicted because of charm and good cheekbones? She’s been running cover since the day you walked back into her life. Quietly. Carefully. Even when she swore she wasn’t. Even when she hated herself for it.”

He stood up now too. The shift in energy was subtle, but I felt it. This was a man protecting his own…and that didn’t include me.

“If she’s going to survive this, it’ll be because she finally learns to stop protecting you,” he said. “So maybe think about what you actually want from her, Kieran. Because if it’s love? Fine. But if it’s safety—if it’s a real chance at survival—you’re the last person who can give it to her.”

I stared at him, pulse steady, voice calm. “You think I should walk away.”

“I think,” Alek said, “that the only thing worse than you being close to her…is what Tristan will do if he finds out why.”

We looked at each other for a long moment.

He didn’t blink. Neither did I.

“You’re right,” I said finally.

His brows lifted.

“You’re right about the danger. About the risk. About the feds. You’re even right about the parts of me that’ll always be Callahan.” I stood now, slow and deliberate. “But here’s the part you’re not right about, Ivanov.”

He waited.

“I would burn this entire city to the ground to keep her safe. And I’ll do it without hesitation, without mercy, and without losing a fucking hour of sleep.

” I leaned in, close enough that he could smell the smoke on my coat.

“So if you ever want to talk about what real protection looks like? You know where to find me.”

Alek didn’t back down. “Yeah,” he said. “And if you ever want to talk about what real love looks like, you can ask her who stayed when you didn’t.”

Something in me snapped. My fist flew before I could think.

But Alek was faster.

He ducked, clean and instinctual, like he’d been expecting it. My knuckles hit air. The sound of my breath caught in my own chest, loud and sudden, like even my body was shocked I’d missed.

He straightened, face calm but eyes sharp. “You really want to do this?” he asked. “Because I guarantee you—I won’t be the one bleeding.”

I stood there, chest heaving, blood hot in my ears. My hand stayed clenched, still ready.

He looked at me like I was a problem he’d already solved. Then he turned and walked past me toward the kitchen, completely unimpressed.

“You done?” he asked over his shoulder.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My pride was still screaming.

“Good,” Alek muttered. “Because Ruby’s about to be subpoenaed. You wanted to know what the feds are up to? That’s what they’re up to. Darnell’s pushing for her testimony. And if she doesn’t give it, they’ll squeeze her until she cracks—or breaks.”

That stilled me.

Subpoenaed.

I sank back into the chair. A quiet, ugly rage curled behind my ribs.

“She tell you that?” I asked.

“No,” Alek said. “But I saw the paperwork. It’s coming. If you want to do something useful, figure out who put her name in their mouth to begin with. Because it wasn’t me.”

He walked to the door and opened it wide.

“Go home, Kieran.”

I stood slowly, looking at him one last time. I wanted to say something sharp. Something that would land. But I didn’t have it in me.

Instead, I pulled my coat tighter around me and walked past him. No threats. No goodbyes.

Just smoke in my lungs and a single thought burning in my chest:

If Ruby was about to be dragged into this, I wasn’t walking away. I was going to find out who gave her up.

And then I was going to kill them.