AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re walking on thin ice, my friend,” Vadim warned. “You are well aware that this is our turf, hence, our house.”
“Not to mention that I didn’t even invite him in,” Vanya mumbled irritably.
Arian’s eyes narrowed as he took a closer look at his sister. Her reaction wasn’t just an after-effect of the stringent rehab she had undergone. There was something else haunting her, something deeper. The fact that she seemed relieved by their arrival, even with the hulking presence of Bogdan, set off alarm bells in Arian’s mind. Whatever was bothering Vanya had to be connected to Luciano Maranzano. His brooding gaze shifted to the man who had morphed from friend to adversary not so long ago.
“So, you’re here on a business trip?” With his gaze fixed on Luciano, Arian addressed the follow-up to Vanya. “You should’ve warned us he was coming, sis. We could’ve cleared our calendars to spend some time with him.”
“She didn’t know,” Luciano interjected with a weary expression on his face. “It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. You know that in our business, it’s necessary to get away now and then.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bogdan sneered. “In our business, we don’t cut and run when things get tough. We suck it up.”
Arian caught Vadim’s surprised look at Bogdan, but he ignored it. He wasn’t going to question or berate Bogdan for speaking his mind. He was as much a leader of the Guzun Bratva as they were. In fact, he possessed more knowledge of the criminal underworld than all the others in the room combined.
Bogdan usually had a firm grip on his temper. Whatever had triggered his outburst must have hit a nerve. Arian had a hunch it had something to do with Vanya’s evident distress upon their arrival.
“Now isn’t the best time for visiting, Luciano,” Vadim chimed in as he seamlessly adapted the role of mediator. “As you must know, our mother is in a coma, and we’re—”
“Which is why I’m here,” Luciano cut in. His gentle smile fell flat as he met Vanya’s icy glare. “I’ve come to offer my support in any way possible. In light of that, I wanted to personally inform you that I’m prepared to postpone the launch date of our endeavor until your mother is out of the hospital.”
“That won’t be necessary. I have a very capable—”
“I insist.” With that, the thin, masquerading tone of diplomacy employed to soothe suspicious minds had finally worn through and was replaced with an ultimatum shorn of any pretense. “Besides, it’s not a noble gesture, rather a selfish one. You see, my standards are exceptionally high, and I refuse to accept a substandard product that you might pass off to one of your employees. Our agreement was that you would personally oversee the flavor development. I’m after nothing but the best, my dear. Nothing else will satisfy me.”
“As you very well know, all the pairings have been done and approved by you.” Vanya’s sharp voice responded. “I issued the production notice for the first batch weeks ago. I’m afraid it’s too late to cancel since some of the flavors are already in the aging process.”
“Well, that’s good news. Either way, I don’t want you to feel pressured to get anything done until your focus is one hundred percent on the project.”
“I’ve got my fingers in numerous pies, Maranzano,” Vanya declared. Her voice dripped with the unshakeable confidence that was her trademark. She leaned back in her chair, exuding the kind of self-assuredness that came from knowing she had a formidable team backing her up. “Believe me, your wine pairing project is just a fragment of the many business ventures I manage simultaneously.”
Vanya’s words painted a vivid picture of her capability and determination. With the support of her brothers by her side, she was a force to be reckoned with and was fearless in taking on any challenge that came her way.
Arian silently applauded her as the room seemed to pulse with the energy of her unshakeable resolve.
“Well, then, it seems I have nothing to be concerned about,” Luciano responded in quiet resignation.
Arian’s innate ability to read people had yet to fail him. His gut told him that Luciano had no idea Zafira Guzun had been abducted from the hospital, which led him to a troubling realization. Andrei Smirnoff remained the only suspect in Zafira’s disappearance. Still, none of this made any sense. If Andrei was the one who shot Zafira, why would he abduct her from the hospital to keep her safe? The question gnawed at his mind.
And what was Luciano Maranzano doing in Moldova?
Chapter Nine
Two days later, Valley's Lake, Codru, Moldova…
Its narrow draft didn’t require much effort to pull the sleek economy of the seventeen-foot skiff across the lake that was inflamed with the colors of morning twilight. The only disturbance guilty of disrupting the quietude of the serene tableau was the clatter of uneven oarsmanship by the sole occupant of the boat who struggled to drive it in a straight line.
“I don’t know why I couldn’t have a motorized boat,” Vanya grumbled. Her frustration was evident in the tight grip she had on the oars. She cast an annoyed glance at the boat’s oarlocks. The pins had, over time, lost their tight purchase into the cedar gunwales. All that was needed to evict a pin from its worn mount were the jerky movements of an inexperienced rower.
Although not a stranger to being on the water, she was more comfortable deep-sea diving or piloting a speedboat. The steady rhythm needed to successfully power oneself with two oars was lost on her.
“This is close enough. I wouldn’t want the asshole to become suspicious.” With a final heave, she shipped the oars.
Cursing, she wrestled with the cumbersome task of getting the fishing line in the water. It was anything but easy.
“Who the hell still fishes like this?” she muttered while trying not to show her exasperation lest it give her away as a novice. According to the old man who had rented her the boat, the lake was a favorite of the estate community. Mostly by people who chose to live here specifically to be close to the land and who loved to fish the old way. Retirees spent their mornings hoping to reel in a handsome catch.
Five minutes of expletives punctuated the air as Vanya tried and failed to bait a hook. A final “Fuck it,” ended the exercise, and she cast an empty hook.
With the slouch of a seasoned angler, she pulled the Gilligan hat low to tuck away her blond mane and shield her eyes from the bright glare of the morning sun. Then, hugging the butt cap of the rod under her left arm, she opened the bail and watched as the weighted line played out.
