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“I trust Ms. Johnson and her roommate are both well?”
“What do you want, Volkov?” I ask him.
“Oh, a bit testy for a newly engaged man aren’t you? Regardless, I’d like to set up a meeting. To discuss the mob and the Bratva and the changes in leadership following Dimitri’s abdication.”
“Abdication?” I say with incredulity.
“Abdication.” Volkov sounds certain.
“Fine, where?”
“I’ll allow you to pick the location.” Trusting chap. “Though,” he continues, “I would appreciate if you brought your lovely fiancée with you.” I start to say over my dead body, but one look at Roxanne’s face and I know she wants to be there.
“Fine. I’ll be in touch.” I hang up the phone.
Roxanne is calm and her posture relaxed. “What do you think he wants?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why do you think he wants me there?”
“Maybe he feels indebted to you for solving his problems for him. Maybe he wants to shoot me and take you with him. I don’t fucking know.” I scrub my hands over my face and groan.
My phone rings. It’s Liam.
“Boss, one of Volkov’s men just showed up at the front door with a fucking engagement present for you. And a note. Haven’t read the note. Did go through the box, it’s clean.”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Roxanne gives me a confused look.
“Send it up.”
“Send what up?” she asks.
“Volkov’s engagement gift.”
“Oh. He works fast.”
One of the boys appears with an ornate gift box and a gilded gift card. I hand the box to Roxanne to open. She pulls out a polished wooden case. Nestled inside a bed of dark blue velvet is a stunning Fabergé egg. I snort. “How very Russian of him.”
Roxanne turns the egg slowly in her hands, the light reflecting off the gemstones and casting sparkling reflections across her stunned face. “This is worth a small fortune, isn’t it?”
“Knowing Volkov, that egg is probably one of the Romanov Imperial eggs. It’s probably not a small fortune.”
She whistles and sets the egg back inside its case. She nods at the card I’m holding.
“Volkov sends his best wishes for our wedding and future children.”
Roxanne blushes. “When are we meeting with him?”
I’ve pondered that myself. “We have a safehouse in the warehouse district. I’ll set it up there for tomorrow. I’ll call the fucker an hour before the meet to tell him where.”
Roxanne nods. We head back out to the main room and settle in for a movie, Roxanne in my lap and Tasha sprawled across the other sofa. It’s amazing how quickly I grew accustomed to having not one but two women in my apartment. I know Roxanne loves having her here, and I love their easygoing camaraderie. It’s good for her to have her support network close. This life isn’t for the faint of heart.
The next morning, Patrick and Declan are back in my office. We’ve set up the safehouse and coordinated multiple evacuation routes. We are as prepared as we are going to get. I call Volkov.
“Mr. O’Connell,” he says by way of greeting.
