Page 24 of A Surprise Baby for the Russian

Yakov holds my gaze for a few seconds. Without a word, he reaches out and picks up his phone.

I turn around, walking back to the living room with a quiet sense of victory. I sit back down on the couch, pull my book into my lap, and make a genuine, concentrated attempt to read the chapter I’ve been failing to process all day long.

Ten minutes later, I still have no idea what page I’m on.

Chapter 11 - Yakov

She tells me to call Simon, and the look in her eyes makes it clear this isn’t a suggestion. I make the call five minutes after she’s left the room. He picks up on the second ring. He was probably waiting by the phone, knowing full well the influence she now holds over me.

“Yakov,” he barks.

“Simon.”

“I need you to explain to me, clearly and without any bullshit, what your actual plan is.”

“I need two weeks.”

“For what?”

“I’m compiling a complete map of my father’s operations. His eastern and western contacts. He started using the moment your alliance with the Nikolais made him nervous enough to start hiding things properly. Every single corrupt official he has on his payroll across three different jurisdictions. I’m not talking about a conversation, Simon. All together this is a package. A weapon that can actually be used to destroy him.”

A heavy silence stretches across the line. I know exactly what he’s doing on the other end—he’s trying to work out if I’m bullshitting him, if the data I’m promising is real, or if this is a desperate play to buy time with his sister. Simon Volkov doesn’t take anything at face value, nor does he fly off at the deep end, which is exactly why he’s the brother I’m talking to.

“What makes you think we’d be interested?” he asks, his tone dropping an octave.

“Because we’re on the same side. I hate the fucker as much as you do, more in fact, for what he’s done. And I have access to the stuff that exposes how a man who calls himself The Ghost has been running his syndicate in plain sight. Names, dates, financial trails. The kind you take to a judge if you want to dismantle his empire legally, or you keep in your back pocket as permanent insurance if you don’t. Either way, you get options you don’t have right now.”

“And you can have this ready in two weeks?”

“I’ve been building the file for years, Simon. I need two weeks to compile and verify the latest data.” I don’t give him a chance to get a word in before I lay the rest of it on the table. “I’ve been running my own supply chain for years, which he knows nothing about. My own contacts, routes and products. Something the alliance may find handy if this turns into a bigger fight than it already is. I don’t need you to trust me because Slelne vouches for me. I’m asking you to look at what I can provide and decide it’s worth giving us a little more time.”

“What kind of product?”

“The kind that’ll win you a war.”

“Yakov.” Simon’s voice is laced with warning. “Keeping my sister holed up in a safe house is not a solution.”

“I know that.”

“She needs to come home. And you’re going to come with her. You’re going to stand in a room with us and make your case to our faces. No more relying on Selene. You, me, Matvei, and whoever else he decides.”

“Agreed.”

I hear the shift of his breath as he makes his decision. “Two weeks,” he says finally. “Not a single day more. After that, I come and drag her back myself, and you and I have a very different kind of conversation. There won’t be a lot of words.”

“Understood.”

The line goes dead. I lower the phone and sit in the silence of the kitchen, running the logistics through my head. Two weeks. It’s tight as hell, but doable. I’ll have to squeeze the contacts I’ve been hesitant to trigger, but I’ve a decent stockpile of weapons to one side that I can offer instant access to. My old man has absolutely no idea how much of his infrastructure I’ve mapped out, which is an advantage. I have to bleed him. One wrong move and he’ll start burning his own tracks. He’s meticulous, but a meticulous man is predictable, and I have been studying his patterns for a very long time.

I find Raya in the living room and give her the raw reality of the call, not some watered-down summary. When I finish, she stares out the window for a moment. “Simon isn’t doing this out of the goodness of his heart.”

“I know. I don’t want his goodwill. I need time to put something together that your family can’t afford to ignore.”

She turns her head, looking at me steadily. “Can you actually pull it off?”

I don’t answer right away. I don’t give her some empty, macho reassurance because she deserves the truth, not reflexive confidence. “Yes,” I tell her, my voice quiet and absolute. “I can.”

She holds my gaze for another second, searching my face. Then she gives a single, sharp nod and picks her book back up. I walk back to the kitchen table and flip open my laptop. The terms are set.