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Kate.
The fear on her face when I approached her had the side of my mouth twitching with a smirk. Satisfaction washes over me—good, she should be afraid.
The guests from this evening fan into the atrium, where all the art is being displayed. There are several servers darting around, and my eyes click to each one until I spot her. She is in a hurry, taking glasses of champagne to the arriving guests. Before I can move away, another server comes up with a tray of champagne, lifting it in offering.
“No,” I say as I sidestep him and make my way to the bar.
Leaning against the rich mahogany bar, I lift my finger to the bartender, who places a cocktail napkin down in front of me.
“Macallan, neat.” I throw out and shove my hand into my suit’s pocket. I tell myself I’m perusing around for some men I can extort, but when my eyes land on her, they stop. Her wide, sapphire eyes are turned away from me, and I’m not sure why that pisses me off.
I still haven’t been able to come up with who ordered the hit that night months ago. Her wide eyes telling me to hold on while my back was pressed against the pavement have been a constant nightmare for months. To make matters worse, she keeps showing up.
She throws her head back to laugh at something a lanky man wearing an ugly Gucci suit says, but I catch the backward motion of her feet. She turns on her heels toward the service entry.
“Sir,” the bartender says, placing my filled glass on the bar.
“Order me one,” Andrei jests as he comes up beside me. He smells of smoke.
“You’re on duty.” My voice is harsh and stern, and Andrei snaps straight.
“Of course.” He steps to my side, clasping his hands in front, and works to manage the room.
Andrei is my newest bodyguard, Nikolai’s cousin, and only eighteen. His mother and father are in Russia, and he is still learning the organization—but he wants to prove himself over here, and Nik vouches for him.
“I need a vodka straight up and two bourbons on the rocks.” Her voice snaps me out of my thoughts, and I glance to my right to see her leaning over the bar with her order for the second bartender. She is chewing on her bottom lip as she grabs a few napkins from behind the bar and places them on her tray.
* * *
Kate
While Lacy gets my drink orders, I take a moment to relieve my feet by leaning over the bar. If Renee saw me I’d probably get yelled at, but my feet are killing me. We are assigned uniforms when we are hired, and that includes shoes that are the world’s worst. I don’t have the extra money to purchase my own that fall within the guidelines.
A tingling climbs the back of my neck, and I pick my head up to glance around. It’s then that I seehim. He is standing on the other end of the bar, eyes fixed on my feet, hanging an inch from the ground. I plant my feet back on the floor, and his gaze shoots up to mine. He holds my stare for one beat, two beats, and then it’s gone. Placing his glass on the bar, he tosses several bills down and strolls off with a smaller man on his heel.
I let out a huff, noticing that Lacy left my drinks on my service tray. I shake off the heat pooling in my belly and march off to deliver my drinks.
Chapter10
Luka
Ilena greets me as I walk into my penthouse.
“Was the gala nice, Pakhan?” Her raspy voice is that of an old smoker. At fifty-eight, she has been with our family since before I was made the leader of the Bratva. The woman is strange, but she handles my housekeeping and cooking for me. She has a bad habit of making outlandish remarks regarding marriage. I’m sure having a wife would ease the minds of my men and their families. An heir to keep the Morozov name and legacy thriving.
The thing is, I have no desire to share my life with anyone. I keep people at a distance because relationships make you weak. Love is used to exploit those with something to lose.
When I marry, it will be an arrangement intended to further the progress of the Bratva. A life devoid of love is paramount to maintaining the hold we have on the city.
Handing Ilena my coat, I smirk. “Yes. The food was poor, though. Please send something to my office.”
“Yes sir.” She nods and scurries off toward the kitchen as I make my way down the hall to my bedroom. Loosening my tie and working the first two buttons of my shirt, I grab an Aspirin from my nightstand and down it with a bottle of water. The workings of a headache bloom at the base of my neck, and I reach up to pinch the bridge of my nose.
I have several hours of paperwork to do tonight, and my focus is already splintered. I don’t know why she keeps stealing these moments of peace. I can’t get the pale complexion and bluish-green circles under her eyes out of my thoughts. I don’t know why I care—I don’t. But it’s a different appearance than when I saw her last, and I have an obsessive need to know why she is run-down.
The ensuite bathroom is dark, but I don’t bother with the light as I splash cold water on my face. I tilt my head up, studying myself in the mirror, water dripping down my nose.
It’s been two years since my father passed this legacy on to me. I thought I had more time. At thirty-two, I wasn’t paying much attention to the wear his title placed on him. I was convinced I had another ten years before I even had to consider taking his place. The heart attack that led to his death didn’t wait that long.
