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Six months had passed since I made the best––worst––decision of my life. Six agonizing months of hiding my feelings, of denying myself in order to keep her away from our world. It was tantamount to torture, having Pru as my assistant, knowing she was right there in front of me, ripe for the taking, and undeniably out of my reach. But it wouldn’t be that way forever. She only needed to stay in the dark a little while longer. Soon she’d know my coldness was an act, my indifference a lie. All of it part of an elaborate ruse to protect her.

Prudence Turner held my heart in the palm of her hands, yet she didn’t have a clue. She was the only one who was fooled, though. My brothers never took the bait. Since the day of her interview, they knew she was the one who’d bring me to my knees. And she had.

War was on the horizon, a power struggle with another Bratva family encroaching on my territory. The Bolotov’s were nasty fuckers. They thought they were smarter than me, but they were all brawn and no brains. I couldn’t waiver. Not until they were nothing more than a speck of dust on the bottom of my twelve-hundred dollar Valentino oxfords.

“Any news?” I popped my head into Makari’s office.

As the leader of the Vlaschenko Bratva, I was the public face of the organization. Ultimately, our success was my responsibility. Each of us had a role to play in our businesses. Kas handled the financial aspects on top of being my right-hand man. Mak was the head of security and intelligence for each of our properties as well as me personally. Lastly, Dimi was tasked with public relations and crisis management.

“Nothing.” He shook his head.

Three weeks ago, Machail Bolotov’s operation went silent. There’d been no movement on any of his bank accounts, no sightings of him in public. Any and all requests I’d made to meet with him went unanswered. We had men all over the country searching for him, but it was nearly impossible to find a shadow in the dark.

“Keep looking. He won’t stay hidden for long.”

“What about the FBI’s offer to work with them? They want him brought to justice as much as we do.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Truthfully, I wasn’t considering it. While we weren’t hardened criminals like some of our counterparts in other Bratva families, we weren’t exactly law abiding citizens either. Our businesses ran above the board, however when a situation called for it, we weren’t opposed to doing what was necessary. With Machail, it went far beyond getting our hands a little dirty. He’d pay for what he’d done to my parents with his life. It made getting into bed with the federal government a dangerous proposition.

Leaving Makari to his work, I strolled back toward my office. I glanced at my Rolex, grinning when I saw the time. Seven thirty-five. By now, she would be placing my morning cup of joe on the left hand corner of my desk. It was part of her daily routine, one she never veered from. Pru was nothing if not reliable, which was why my steps faltered when I opened my office door to utter darkness.

“What the fuck?”

Yanking my cell out of my pocket, I dialed Dimi. He answered on the second ring, sounding slightly annoyed.

“You know not everyone begins their day at the ass-crack of dawn, right?”

I ignored his question, asking my own instead. “Did Pru call out sick?”

“If she did, I would’ve called you immediately.”

“Then where the hell is she?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s not here, Dimi. I’m worried.”

“Makari could always track her phone.”

“That’s not a bad idea.”

“Jesus, I was kidding.” I could practically hear his eyes rolling through the phone. “Try calling her before flipping into stalker mode. Maybe she overslept or got a flat tire.”

He was right. There had to be a logical explanation for her absence. Ending our conversation abruptly, I scrolled through my contact list until I reached Pru’s, and tapped the screen. Three rings before the call connected, only it wasn’t my gorgeous assistant who answered.

“Zakhar Vlaschenko. It’s been a long time.”

“Machail.” I spat his name through clenched teeth.

Fucking motherfucker!

Sprinting to my desk, I flung the chair out of the way, dropped to my knees, and pressed the small silver button Makari insisted on installing. Pushing it ensured the other three kings—my brothers not of blood—would converge on my location within minutes.

“So you do remember me.” He laughed without humor.

“Where is she?”