After snatching the letter opener off Justine’s desk, I make a beeline for the door with Trey, Roman, and Maya closely shadowing me. Even with my emotions belonging to those of a stranger, I know who I am.
I am not a vigilante or an adversary of the devil.
I am Nikolai, Russian Mafia Prince.
Chapter Eleven
My steps into Justine’s guest bedroom slow when I detect I am being watched. I’m used to being eyed, men want to be me, women want to be bedded by me, but this stare is different. It’s pronged with admiration, but it has no infatuation attached to it—thank fuck. That would have been awkward considering the watchful gaze is coming from my sister.
Lia acts unaffected by the blood-splattered clothes and boots dumped at the end of my bed. She’s accustomed to the gore associated with our childhood. Sometimes, she was even the perpetrator of it.
With my exchange with Sergei still in the forefront of my mind, Officer Prentice’s death was swift and unpleasurable. The stab wound I inflicted to his chest bled more than I anticipated, but that had more to do with the fact Justine’s letter opener wasn’t as sharp as I’d hoped.
Don’t get me wrong, it got the job done, but my knife usually leaves my face blood-free. Since that didn’t occur this time around, I had no choice but to shower for the second time before midday.
I finish drying droplets of water on my chest before dumping my towel onto the bed housing Lia’s backside. “Where’s Maya?”
Lia twists the top half of her body to face the wall, granting me the privacy to tug on a pair of boxers and jeans while she says, “Trey is taking her back to the compound. She’s a little shaken up, the poor thing.” She’d seem more sincere if she weren’t picking at the varnish on her nails. “I really wish she would have accepted your offer to move her out of the compound. She’ll never have a life if she remains under Vladimir’s reign.”
I jerk up my chin, agreeing with her. “She would have given it more thought if it weren’t for her mother. She’s still under Vladimir’s spell.”
I inwardly laugh at Lia’s gag. Even with her sharing Vladimir’s DNA, she loathes him almost as much as me. I’m not surprised. Our mother continually placed Vladimir before us when we were children.
Lia is four years older than me, and was despised by our mother on sight because she was born without the required equipment between her legs needed for her to become the next heir of the Popov entity. That honor went to Rico, who was born three weeks after Lia.
“You can’t fix stupid.” After checking the coast is clear with a quick glance my way, Lia pivots back around to face me. “Did he cry actual tears?” She clasps her hands together like she’s watching a sappy movie. “I bet he did. The cry-for-my-momma vibes were pumping out of him when you grabbed him unaware.”
I arch a brow in suspicion. “You watched me serve Prentice his punishment?”
“Of course.” A hint of her husband’s English heritage highlights her tone when she attempts to act innocent. I say ‘attempt’ as it isn’t a look Lia can pull off without an immense amount of acting. “Adrian said a direct hit to the precordium almost always results in death, but he won’t let me put his theory into practice.” She sighs like she’s annoyed her husband saddled her down with responsibility and kids, where, in reality, she adores him. “Talking about theories, I better get back on deck before the next shipment comes in. Adrian’s men still believe compromises begin with words. Us Popov’s know busted kneecaps work much better.”
She stops gathering her purse from a set of drawers on her right when I say, “I promoted Adrian to head of operations at Knightsbridge.” Her eyes dart between mine, but she’s too stunned to speak. It’s for the best, as my terms aren’t up for negotiation. “We need someone with his skillset while endeavoring to overtake Davies operations on that side of the continent.”
She doesn’t buy the lie I am selling as she knows this has nothing to do with business. “You said a move was years away, Nikolai. That you’d give us plenty of notice.”
“Things change—”
“Not in a weekend. Jesus.” Nothing but unbridled panic is heard in her tone, aware that this is more than a wish to coerce my attorney into my bed. This goes way deeper than that. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Nodding, I brush the back of my index finger across her cheek to wipe away a blob of moisture balled there. She is as surprised by her tears as I am my chivalry. Kindness was not a trait our mother instilled in us.
After clearing her cheeks of moisture, she steps closer to me, her eyes begging. “Let us stay. Let us help your campaign.”
“No, Lia. We discussed this. Adrian and you were to move back to the UK before I commenced my bid for Vladimir’s throne.” As images of her punishment the last time she sided with me over Vladimir flash before my eyes, I step back, placing distance between us. We’re not overly close, but I still don’t want to see her hurt. “If you won’t do this for Adrian, do it for your girls.”
It’s low of me to bring her daughters into this, but I know they’re the only things needed for her to agree to my request. Lia is all about blood and gore… until her eyes lock on her twin girls. They are three years old, yet they’ve never met their grandfather. Lia would fall onto a knife before she’d ever introduce her daughters to the monster from her nightmares.
“Fine. I’ll go. Adrian’s parents have been expecting us for months.” She wipes her wet cheeks again, straightens her spine, then locks the dark brown eyes she was gifted from her father with mine. “But if you don’t get the job done, I’ll come back and do it for you.”
When I dip my chin, she moves to a mirror tacked to the wall to check her face. Her knees are shaking so much she can barely walk, but she puts on a brave front. The last thing she’d ever want is for my crew to know she’s rattled. It took her years to gain their respect, and she won’t let it slip for anything.
While she clears away a minute slither of mascara smeared under her eyes, I move to the cracked open door of Justine’s guest bedroom, stunned that the almost deafening buzz of my men has dulled to barely a murmur.
They still have the tits of my whores in their mouths, and my drugs running through their veins, but their eyes are rapt on the same thing: Justine.
She’s also mine, my crew are just unaware on how far my fascination extends.
The same can’t be said for Lia. It only takes her noticing the narrowed squint Justine’s eyes get when she walks out of my room to know the real reason I’ve brought motions into play to take back what’s mine years earlier than predicated.
