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Running my uncle's and father's empire, such as it was, took all my time. I’d had a real life back when I was in the Marines. I had downtime, I had privacy in my place in Quantico, and I could always take leave and decompress for a week or so.
Now, I had no time off ever. I was always on call. It was me people came to when there was a problem, big or small, and there were small problems every single day that needed my attention. On top of that, I was busy working to get close to the Romanovs, actively recruiting several members of his family to be my 'friends.' They were loyal to Romanov but they always needed extra money or women and were willing to cheat around the edges to get them.
I found it for them. It was the easiest way to get in with a group of lowlifes. Appeal to their pocketbooks and dicks.
Tonight, I'd call in a marker and I'd return a favor. I'd invited a few pretty blonde hangers-on to the club, and I knew they'd keep my good buddy Misha happy. I'd have a bit of fun as well with one of the blondes, a girl who called herself Lila—who knew what her real name was. I didn't care.
So even on a Saturday night, even when I was playing, I was always working.
That was my new life. I didn’t have time to think too deeply about what I'd become. Instead, I straightened my tie and left my apartment, ready to face the night.
I arrived at the club around seven and did my usual walk-through to see how everything was going. The office manager was finalizing the lunch receipts from the restaurant, and the floor manager for the night was checking out the bar to make sure it was stocked and ready to go.
I sat in the office for a while and read over emails, trying to focus on the job at hand, but my mind kept going over my texts from Celia, and what I'd learned from Barnes about Graham.
I hoped I'd know tonight who beat him up and why. Then maybe I'd text Celia and let her know I'd pay off Graham's debt. Her texts had become increasingly frantic. I didn’t want her to worry too much, but I wasn't going to call her. I didn’t want to hear her voice or see her face again.
That part of my life was over.
After Misha arrived and I had introduced him to Lila and her friend—whose name I couldn't remember—we sat in the back of the club and had a drink. After a suitable amount of time had passed, I leaned forward and asked Misha the question that had been on my mind all day.
"Any news on the wise guys who roughed up that enemy of mine?" I asked, expecting my quid pro quo.
"Yeah," he said and leaned forward as well, talking in a low voice so nobody could overhear our discussion. Beside me on the sofa, the two girls were busy admiring each other's manicures.
"His name's Stepan," Misha said. "He's real low-life muscle for Victor Romanov, Sergei's younger brother. I heard he fucked up some investment banker type who works downtown over an unpaid debt. His crew works for the Romanovs. They take care of any late payments on outstanding bills, if you know what I mean," Misha said, wagging his eyebrows.
"That's the one," I said. "Thanks."
He nodded and leaned back, picking up his drink and enjoying my hospitality.
Now I knew who had done the deed, and I knew who to pay off. I was set. I could take care of business and pay off Graham's debt—at least, that was the plan. I'd pay off Victor Romanov and then I'd swing by wherever Stepan hung out and give him a taste of my fist.
I'd never have to see Graham or Celia again.
A couple of hours after Misha arrived and we'd had a few drinks, Kirk, one of my bodyguards, came up to where Misha and I were sitting at the back of the club's large open dance floor and bar to let me know I had a visitor.
He leaned over, blocking off his mouth so the others couldn't hear what he was saying.
"There's this woman who claims she knows you," he said, jerking his head to the side. "She said her name was Celia. She said you’d know her and that she's here to talk to you about her brother."
It was then that I saw her.
"Crap," I said, only half under my breath.
She looked… fantastic.
Stunning.
She wore a red dress that showed all her best womanly attributes—curves that could make a man weak in the knees, long dark hair like silk, a generous mouth painted red and eminently kissable. Her pretty face made you think about seeing it in the morning after a long night of fucking her brains out.
I remembered my mouth on her, her mouth on me. My body responded immediately, my pulse increasing, a low-level ache starting in my balls that told me I needed to fuck her and soon.
Yeah, she still had that effect on me. It surprised me how strongly I reacted to seeing her despite everything that had happened between us and our families.
I wanted her. Badly.
After all these years, I still wanted to possess her completely. The need I felt for her was completely primal. I was like some kind of caveman seeing my woman and wanting to haul her away into my cave and keep her to myself.
