49
IVAN
“Well?” Otets barks. He slaps a hand on the desk that was once his. He likes to reclaim his throne whenever he visits my home office. A reminder of who he thinks is really in charge. “Tell me what you know.”
I sprawl in the armchair across from him. “Two Sokolov guards were at the restaurant when Cora and I had dinner the other night.”
“What did you find out before you killed them?”
I glance at Yasha where he’s standing in the corner. He ducks his head.
I look back to my father. “We didn’t kill them.”
“You let them go?” A vein in his neck throbs.
“The Sokolovs are an ally. I didn’t want to make trouble.”
He snorts. “Too fucking late for that, isn’t it? You and Katerina caused enough trouble for a lifetime.”
“And killing two guards who were guilty of nothing beyond gossip in the men’s room could start an all-out war. Is that what you want me to do?”
“Don’t be smart, son.” He wags a finger at me in warning. “You say the Sokolovs might be involved in going after our family. I assume that is a crime worthy of death. How important is the family to you?”
I grit my teeth. “Important enough that I’m not going to run headfirst into a war if I can avoid it.”
Yasha steps forward. “We questioned the two men, sir. We bloodied them up. They didn’t have anything to say.”
“Because they knew you were weak.” Otets ignores Yasha entirely, his disdain focused on me. “They knew they were going to walk away with their lives. If anything, getting a beatdown from the future pakhan of the Pushkin Bratva is a badge of honor they will wear with pride. You probably earned them a promotion.”
“I made it clear that I am onto them. Now, Konstantin knows that. He might slip up and—”
“He won’t be able to attack your supposed bride even if he wants to. I happen to know she hasn’t left the house in days.” He scoffs. “You know how you catch a predator? With bait. This girl is a worm on a hook. You don’t catch anything by yanking her away any time someone gets close. You have to let them get a taste or this is all for fucking nothing.”
I take a deep breath, biting back a thousand cutting words I’d rather say. “It’s not for nothing, Otets. We have a lead.”
“If you’d had the guts to take a risk, you could have the person who is targeting us.”
“Or,” I counter, “I could have lost Cora and the person responsible still would have gotten away. Then I’d be left with fucking nothing.”
I meant it in terms of the plan, but the words ring true somewhere in my hollow chest.
When this is over and Cora leaves, what will all of this be for? So I can safely marry some stand-in wife I don't give a shit about?
Otets narrows his eyes. “Have you fucked her?”
I tense, fighting the urge to strangle him for even asking. “That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” he spits. “It matters to the Bratva. If you’re wasting time, money, and resources so you can shack up with this fucking waitress, that matters a whole hell of a lot to all of us.”
“Does it look like I’m playing House to you?” I fling my arms wide. “I haven't even seen her in two days because I've been busy tracking down information."
“I saw the bill for the engagement ring. We'll be lucky if she doesn't pawn it for a down payment on her new life.”
“I had no idea we were short on cash,” I drawl. “If you’re worried about our finances, I’ll get it back from her and re-gift it to the next woman.”
That’s a fucking whopper of a lie. I’ll melt it down before I see it on any finger aside from hers.
But it doesn’t matter. This isn’t about the money for my father.
It’s about control. His loss of it, specifically.
“I’m worried that you’re getting lost in your own con, Ivan.” He leans forward, his fingers drumming slowly on the tabletop. “When the time comes, you need to be able to cut the bait and reel it in. You need to be able to get out of this unscathed, whether your little slut does or not.”
“Don’t call her that.”
I’m shaking with the force required to stay sitting. To not drag my own father out of his chair by his throat.
Yasha edges towards the door, but Otets doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. “What did you say?”
I look at him, my voice louder now. “I won’t sit here and let you disrespect her.”
My father smirks at me, but there is no warmth in it. No joy.
Only a sense of retribution.
“I won’t let this game go on much longer, boy.” He waves another warning finger, his nostrils flaring. “Get your shit together and be prepared to cut that girl loose for the greater good. If you can’t, I’ll do it for you.”
He stands and storms out, leaving me sitting there with a single thought burning in my head.
I’d like to see him fucking try.
Yasha escorts my father out, then returns and collapses into the leather chair across from me with a sigh. “Fuck.”
“What? I thought that went well.”
He scowls at me. “Be serious, Ivan.”
“That’s usually my line.”
“Because you’re usually being an uptight ass about nothing,” he says. “This is not nothing. The pakhan is pissed.”
I wave a hand in the air. “You don’t have to be afraid of him.”
“I’m not afraid of him; I’m afraid for you,” he says. “There’s a difference.”
I hear Cora’s voice in my head. Be careful.
For all Yasha’s fuckery, I’ve always known he cares. I know I can count on him. The fact that Cora has now joined ranks with him in bothering to worry about me is something I can’t quite grasp.
“Don’t waste your time with either. I’m fine.”
“You’re fine right now,” Yasha counters. “What I’m worried about is what happens when this is over. I’m worried what will happen when—if—you have to cut the bait.”
My father took his rainclouds with him, but I feel another storm brewing as I turn to Yasha. “I won’t have to do that.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “I hope not. Cora is good for you. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to her.”
Even the suggestion has me tightening my fists. “Then let’s make sure it doesn’t.”
“I’ll try. I really will. But you know as well as I do that we can’t control everything. Especially when Don Pushkin thinks Cora is expendable.”
I flex my jaw, trying to drum up the words I know I need to say. Finally, I spit them out. “Isn’t she?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.” His voice is soft, solemn. “You like being around Cora. I can tell. Even Anya likes her, which is a small miracle. Your sister hates any woman who even looks at you. But I think she can see it, too: that Cora fits in here. With you. In our world.”
It’s strange, hearing my private thoughts spoken out loud by someone else.
Cora does fit in here.
Cora could hold her own in my world.
She belongs.
“None of it matters,” I say with finality.
“How can none of it—”
“None of it matters because this is a temporary arrangement,” I say, cutting him off. “This is a mission. Feelings can’t get in the way of a mission. Not mine. Not yours. Not Cora’s. This thing between me and her was always meant to end.”
Yasha sighs. “But it doesn’t have to. Not if you don’t want it to.”
“What I want is to do my job. That means I can’t have Cora falling in love with me and fucking things up.” I drop my feet to the floor. “This is all an act. A good one, if even you bought into it.”
Yasha is quiet for a few seconds before he speaks. “Are you sure, Ivan?”
“I’m sure that I have a responsibility to the organization and my father and my sister,” I tell him, “to marry someone who is actually suitable. Someone who can be what I need to do my job. And that person isn’t Cora.”
I sit tall and turn towards him…only to see someone else in the doorway.
“Cora.”
She blinks at me. Her eyes are glassy, filled with tears she is refusing to shed.
She lifts her chin and looks at me. “We’re leaving for the cake tasting in ten minutes. I just wanted to let you know.”
I start to stand. “Cora—”
Before I can get another word out, she turns and leaves.