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Mikhail’s heart raced. She was exhilarating just to look at, just to touch. Even the soft caress of her voice thrilled him. He didn’t want to wait any longer. The ceremony, the reception; it was all for the people. Butthis, he thought as the pair of them snuck away up the stairs to a private bedroom to consummate their marriage, was just for the two of them.
CHAPTER20
MIKHAIL
Lazy afternoon lightcame streaming through the broad windows of the formal dining room at the Sokolov Estate. Tiny motes of dust floated in the shafts of sunshine, which illuminated the stacks of papers and the array of dishes and glasses on the table. It was a long, stately dining table carved and polished by the finest carpenters, and it had enough space to fit nearly ten big, bulky mafia men. Mikhail sat at the head of the table as the men enjoyed a slow, leisurely late lunch while they discussed business. They were just finishing off the main courses of a traditional Russian meal involving borscht, potatoes with mushroom julienne, a fresh, bright-green salad with pickles, and savory meat pies.
A pretty young woman walked quickly into the room, carrying a big shiny tray of tea and desserts for the final course. She set a golden samovar inlaid with colorful floral designs in the middle of the table, along with enough tea glasses for every guest. The samovar was steaming with fragrant spiced tea and served alongside a pitcher of cream and a little golden pot of sugar cubes. There were neat squares of Medovik, the traditional honey layer cake, on tiny plates.
Mikhail’s right-hand man, Andrei, who was sitting quite fittingly on his right, couldn’t help but follow the pretty young woman with his eyes as she set down the dessert course. Her own brown eyes were just as interested in the group. She said not a word, but she barely seemed to blink, she was so intent on observing the men at work. When she left, Andrei turned to Mikhail with an intrigued smirk.
“Is that the cook’s daughter? Last time I saw her, she was still in pigtails,” he remarked.
Mikhail nodded as he reached to pour a glass of tea. “Da, that’s Inessa. She’s in her early twenties now, if you can believe it. She comes along with her mother some days to help out.”
“More like to help herself to the view,” said Luka. “She likes to spy on the men at work.”
“A young woman like her probably feels like a kid in a candy store with all these prized bachelors hanging around,” Vadim added.
“Well, her mother tells me that the girl is studying psychology, so she’s probably just psychoanalyzing all of you bastards,” Mikhail replied. The men all chuckled as they enjoyed their tea and dessert course.
Mikhail wasn’t totally used to the luxury of his new position yet. Although he had grown up with the privilege of wealth and power as the son of the former Pakhan, his own line of work had usually brought him to much less pleasant corners of the city. He was used to dining on the go, just grabbing whatever was convenient in between ruthless missions. For many years, he’d had to work his ass off to prove himself worthy.
But now, as Pakhan, his work involved more discussion and planning than flat-out, simple violence. A lot had changed since the wedding. Egor Baranov was dead, the majority of his closest allies had sworn fealty to Mikhail, and now the Sokolovs were working to expand their empire, as always. Mikhail had time to sit and sip hot tea now, but he still kept his priorities in order. The sumptuous food and relaxing atmosphere couldn’t distract him from the work at hand, nor the laptop screen he was closely monitoring throughout the meeting.
It sat just off to his left, and the screen showed live surveillance footage of the brand-new ballet studio he was building for Annika. There were two camera feeds to switch back and forth between: one view of the lobby and another view of the studio itself. The studio was a recent and heartfelt gift to his sweet wife, who was in love with all things ballet. She was happy, and she was perfectly made to be the wife of a Pakhan, but Mikhail knew there was a tiny part of her that still longed for those lofty, NYC ballerina dreams. So, he gave her the next best thing:On PointeStudio. It was a small, but lovely space in downtown Vegas, and they were renovating it to be the ideal studio. The plan was for Annika to use the space as a dancer, but mostly so that she could start teaching ballet lessons to the young children of the organization. It was to be a source of joy, an outlet for creativity, and an opportunity for Annika to integrate even further into the Sokolov family.
Mikhail clicked over to the camera feed of the studio. He smiled at the sight of his gorgeous wife, almost glowing even on the slightly pixelated surveillance camera. She was wandering around the studio, measuring the walls and floors, taking notes, and imagining what she could do with the space. There was no audio on the feed, but Mikhail could see her happily tossing ideas back to her two bodyguards stationed by the door. Mikhail’s heart swelled with adoration just watching her bop around the room. Every now and then, she lightly touched her stomach, almost like she was hungry. Mikhail thought back to their morning together, and remembered that she hardly picked at her eggs and toast at breakfast. Since she hadn’t eaten much, it made sense that she would be feeling hunger pangs by now. Mikhail made a mental note to tell the cook to package up some prime leftovers from their business meeting meal to bring home to Annika. He was already dreaming about seeing her that evening, looking forward to touching her soft skin and kissing those full, perfect lips.
“Mikhail,” said Andrei, breaking the young Pakhan’s concentration. He looked up. Andrei went on, “There’s still the question of what to do about our newest threat.”
“Well, let’s not jump to conclusions. Are we even certain this qualifies as a threat?” argued Vadim.
“Anything or anyone opposed to our expansion is a threat,” said Luka.
“I wouldn’t say the guy is opposed. He’s just standing his ground,” said another man.
“If he refuses to sell the property, we will have to resort to more extreme solutions,” Mikhail said, jumping back into the conversation. “But until that day comes, we will proceed with respect and caution. This guy isn’t an enemy; he’s just a stubborn old man who doesn’t want to let go of his real estate. We will just have to convince him otherwise.”
“And if he still refuses to sell?” prompted Rad.
“Then we will break his bones,” Mikhail replied casually.
He glanced back at the laptop screen. Annika was close to the studio wall, using a measuring tape presumably to plot where the barre would go. But there was something off. Annika was alone in the studio now. Her bodyguards were nowhere to be found.
Mikhail clicked over to the lobby feed. At first, he wasn’t sure what was going on. There was no movement, just two dark shapes stretched across the floor. His stomach dropped as he realized he was looking at the bodies of the two guards, lying flat and motionless on the brand-new hardwood.
“Fuck,” Mikhail murmured, starting to get to his feet. “We’ve got a problem.”
His heart pounded as he held up his hand to silence the men at the table. They all fell quiet instantly, awaiting command. Mikhail clicked back to the studio feed, barely daring to breathe. To his confusion, the studio was now empty too.
Annika was nowhere to be seen.
EPILOGUE
ANNIKA
“That’sthe last measurement for the mirrors,” Annika announced happily.
