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Heidi’s been over nearly every night since our chance meeting at Fiasco’s, and after almost two weeks of seeing her, I have to admit I’m in a better mood than I have been in years. She’s a breath of fresh air amid the constant anger that has gripped me since the day Symphony died. The day Aleksandr took her from me.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Dimitri and Alexei sharing a knowing glance. Their smirks alert me to the fact that they’ve held some discussion outside my knowledge and something I’ve done has just confirmed their conclusion.
“What?” I demand, turning my eyes on them as the Escalade pulls up to the curb.
“Have you finally decided to take our advice and start dating a girl, Maks?” Alexei quips, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“What gives you that idea?”
“Oh, come on,” Dimitri steps in. “We’ve heard your phone calls in the office. Setting up late-night rendezvous with someone namedHeidi. And you’ve been... chipper for days. You’ve got a girl in your life, and not just the usual fuck toy you’re so hellbent on keeping. Admit it.”
Neither make a move to exit the car, even though we’re at a standstill and the meeting’s due to start any minute.
Cocking my eyebrow, I try and fail to keep the touch of amusement from my tone. They’re so desperate to see me settle down. But it’s not going to happen. It doesn’t matter that I’ve found someone who can actually lift my mood when she’s not even around. “Don’t get your hopes up. Heidi’s just another ‘fuck toy’, as you two insist on calling them. But she doesn’t mean anything to me.”
It feels wrong saying that about her, and the words leave a sour taste in my mouth. Funny, because I haven’t really cared about my brothers’ nagging term for the women I sleep with. But I can’t picture Heidi as a toy. She’s tooalive, too independent and full of personality.
Alexei and Dimitri share another look. They seem to have noticed it, too, the way I cringed when I put the offensive term so close to Heidi’s name. Momentary silence fills the car.
Then I clear my throat. “Ready to buy the Bay View Hotel?” I ask, abruptly redirecting them.
“More than.” Dimitri gives a wicked grin, his steel gaze matching my own. Any opportunity to undermine Aleksandr Volkov is a victory in his book. Mine too.
Alexei gives a more noncommittal shrug. “Ready to screw a certain Bratva bastard over. That’s for sure.”
Stepping out of the car, we straighten our crisp designer suits and head through the front doors of the luxury hotel we all but own. The grandeur of the hotel’s lobby welcomes us as we stride in, our demeanor drawing the attention of both guests and staff alike. Polished marble floors reflect the elegant chandeliers above, and the scent of fresh flowers wafts through the air.
I lead the way, my confident stride exuding authority, followed closely by my brothers, who wear expressions that radiate a sense of quiet power. Behind us, our small contingent of bodyguards finish the commanding entrance, one meant to intimidate, should Thompson be thinking about backing out last-minute.
“Mr. Federov,” a woman greets me before we reach reception. She strides forward in high black pumps and a pencil skirt as sharp as her expression. Then her eyes dart to my brothers as her composure falters just a hair. “And... Mr. Federov, Mr. Federov.” She acknowledges them each in turn with a nod. “Mr. Thompson and his lawyers are already waiting for you upstairs. I’ll take you to the conference room.”
Gesturing to the elevator bank, she escorts us, pressing the call button and stepping into the elevator with me, my two brothers, and the three guards accompanying us.
Mr. Thompson stands as we enter the room, his shoulders appearing slumped in defeat. He knows that he has little left to bargain with, and the deal is now inevitable. Greed might have helped us get him to this point, but I detect a hint of regret in his face now.
Considering the price we’re offering for the Bay View, he should be anything but disappointed. Even if he’s selling against his will. But that doesn’t stop a hint of guilt from trickling into my gut, as it does every time I snap up a deal that will expand our family’s empire and strengthen the claim on our territory.
“Gentlemen,” he says with a weary smile, his voice carrying the weight of resignation. “Welcome back. I believe my lawyers have drawn up the appropriate paperwork, so we are ready to sign and make this deal official.”
I offer him a nod of acknowledgment as I silently note the toll our negotiations have taken on the hotel owner. I wonder how much pressure Aleksandr must have put on him after he found out that Mr. Thompson physically ripped up the noncompete contract Aleksandr had made him sign.
Relief joins the resignation in his eyes as we settle into the chairs around the conference table. I wonder if he’s not grateful to be handing over the rope in this metaphorical tug-of-war between Bratvas.
After I exchange polite nods with his lawyers, they slide several thick contracts across the polished wood.
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Thompson says, though his words ring hollow.
Leveling him with a piercing gaze, I study the hotel owner for a moment longer, then I offer a thin, almost imperceptible smile. “Likewise. Shall we proceed?”
He gives a nod, and I drop my eyes to the paperwork.
Dimitri and I take our time, each reading through the contract from front to back to ensure nothing in the language might attempt to disrupt our acquisition. Though neither of us went to law school, our father taught us the importance of understanding the contracts we sign. After decades in the business, I know all the tricks and loopholes that business owners might try to use to cling to their companies.
But not Mr. Thompson. It seems that our added pressure—compliments of Iosif—has paid off, and the contract looks nearly pristine.
“Very good, Mr. Thompson,” I praise, signing the paperwork before passing it on to Dimitri, who follows suit before handing it to Alexei.
Thompson is the last to sign, and he only hesitates a moment before definitively pressing the pen tip to the paper.
