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Kira’s whole body tenses. Her aunt was her rock, the one person who loved her unconditionally. Kira’s father, Oleg Antonov, ordered his sister’s execution when she conspired against him. Kira rarely speaks of it; the memory is too raw.
“You knew Masha?” she rasps.
“I did. She was an acquaintance. You remind me of her,” he says, his lips tipping up just the slightest bit. “Hot-headed. Would never back down from a fight. Didn’t know how to hold her tongue.” He pauses, sincerity in his tone. “But I liked her, and I was sorry to hear of her passing.”
Kira’s mouth twists, and she looks away. “If you knew my aunt, then you know she didn’tpass away. She was murdered in cold blood.”
I hold my breath, but Belov doesn’t flinch. While Kira’s father was supposedly responsible for Masha’s death, Kira has hinted there’s more to this story. More that she intends to discover one day.
Belov’s mouth settles into a grim line, but he doesn’t say anything more. I lay a hand on Kira’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go back to our room? I’ll meet you there in a bit.”
She delivers a final scathing look at Belov before squeezing my hand in a show of support.
“Shall we walk?” Belov asks, and I gesture for him to lead the way.
As we stroll through the vineyards, Belov pauses to tenderly touch a plant, drawing my attention to the green bud emerging. “People don’t often associate Russia with wine making, but the Black Sea region has a rich, diverse soil, allowing us to produce exceptional wines.” He leans down to inspect a cluster of grapes, assessing their ripeness. “Soon it will be harvest time. I think you’ll enjoy being involved in that process. I do.”
“Like you spend much time harvesting grapes,” I snort. “You must have more important business to attend to.”
“Of course I do, but this is my hobby.” He tips his head to the side, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Even bad men like me have hobbies.”
“I never said you were a bad man.” At least not aloud.
“You didn’t have to. I know what you’re thinking. And it’s true, I’m not a good man. But I’m fair, in my way.”
Hate to break it to him, but threatening to kill the people I love is far from fair. Still, we’re past the point of a lecture. So I ask him the only question that truly matters. “If I agree to your terms, will my family and friends be safe?”
He studies me, his gaze unblinking, before he finally nods. “I never go back on my word. Let’s hope you have as much honor.”
Sadness settles like a stone in my chest. I take a deep breath, choking on the heaviness of my decision. “I’ll do it. I’ll lead by your side.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR
LEO
I can’t sit still.My legs carry me back and forth across the plush carpet of our suite at the Ritz in Moscow. The weight of worry inside me is a leaden anchor, dragging me down. It’s been two days since Alyona and Kira disappeared, and there’s still no sign of them.
Dima tracked their flight route—they were definitely heading for Russia—but as soon as they crossed the border, the trail vanished. It’s no surprise, Belov has the clout to wipe the paperwork clean.
“You need to stop pacing,” Andrei snaps, his attention fixed on his laptop. “It’s distracting. Go outside, take a walk. Get some fresh air. Something.”
I’m about to snap back that I’m trying to be useful, but… well, am I? I’ve been a snarling animal locked up in a cage while my brothers and Yulian work around the clock to piece together any scraps of information that could give us a clue as to where they are. But I’m more concerned—no, obsessed—with thewhy.
Alyona is gorgeous, of good breeding, practically mafia royalty—I know very little of Belov, but I don’t believe he is married. Could he want a wife? Fuck, just the thought has fire ants crawling under my skin. I pick up the closest valuable—a glass vase and smash it into the wall.
It’s official.
I’m losing my shit.
Daniil emerges from the shower, a towel slung around his neck. He whistles when he sees the damage done. “I thought we hid all the breakables?” he shakes his head. “Dude, I’m either going to book you a massage at the hotel spa, or we need to find one of those axe throwing places.”
“Drink. I need a fucking drink,” I grumble, but I’m quite sure Andrei hid all the booze in the room. Either he doesn’t want an angry stumbling giant to deal with, or he doesn’t want me to smash the bottles to pieces.
Yulian, who has been standing by the window watching my outburst with distaste, approaches. “Come with me,” he grumbles, striding past me towards the door.
He leads me down to the hotel bar where, minutes later, we’re side by side, nursing matching scotch whiskys. Yulian hasn’t said much to me since we learned of the girls’ disappearance, so I’m not sure if this is him calling a truce, or what. Though he hides it better, he’s as fucked-up as I am. I can see it in the tense lines of his shoulders, the dark circles beneath his eyes.
“Better?” he asks, as I throw down my first shot of hard alcohol in days. The amber liquid hits the back of my throat with a sharp burn that I welcome before warmth spreads through my body, loosening my limbs.
