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That was a good question. What should we do? How could we get our land back?
We needed a solution to reverse this mistake, and we needed it fast.
Cian was a dangerous man; I knew his type very well. He could be strategic, and very precise. Behind the facade of the businessman hid a cunning snake. I knew he manipulated Boris into giving away the land.
And he was going to pay for messing with us, the Bratva.
When Fedor asked questions, it meant he already had the answers piled up somewhere in the back of his shaved head. I waved a hand. “Any ideas?”
He straightened up in his chair and interlaced his fingers on the table. “If we hold his men hostage, he might change his mind and negotiate.”
That was quick, fast, and could have worked. But not with Cian O’Sullivan. Not with the fucking Irish.
I shook my head. “They don’t care whose head is next. Cian won’t give a flying fuck if we hold his men hostage.”
There was no brotherhood among them. Power and money could speak their language. But now they had something of ours, and Cian knew how important it was that we got it back.
And to do that, we had to make a trade.
Value for Value.
My lips curled to the side as red hair and green eyes flashed in my mind again. The memories were vivid, the defiance in her eyes, her smart and snarky mouth, and even her smell.
“If that won’t work, then what would?” Fedor asked, and I grinned while he patiently waited for a response.
I knew exactly what would.
I leaned back on the chair, this time, with satisfaction.
The time has come, I will find you. “Moy malen’kiy golub’.” [My little dove.]
Chapter 3 - Ava
“Thank you.”
I took the bowl of cold fruit from the steward, his hazel eyes and smile fixed on me. I looked at the silver name tag on his jacket, “Axel”, and smiled at him.
His cheeks blushed before he walked away.
“He likes you.” The crispness of Declan’s deep voice interrupted my thoughts.
I set the bowl aside, munched on a strawberry, wiggled my legs, and looked out the window.
“He can’t,” I stated. Then, threw him a glance, just long enough to not get caught—like I’d been doing for half an hour since our jet left the runway. There was no special reason for this. He just looked better than the view of white clouds and blue skies—at least, that was my way of convincing myself that I did not have a crush on him.
Blond taper-fade, crisp well-tailored suit, broad shoulders, and long legs that lightly brushed mine when he crossed one over the other.
I looked away, scared to be drawn in too deep, and put a grape in my mouth. I repeated, “He can’t.”
The sound of paper rustling settled between us when he flipped the page of some boring business magazine on his thigh. “Why can’t he?” He asked with a raised eyebrow but didn’t look at me.
I shrugged. “You know why.”
I could almost feel the warmth of his smirk on my skin. “Go on. Enlighten me.”
Footsteps approaching the lounge made me raise my head, and when I did, my eyes met with Axel’s. Now I was sure that he blushed. The red on his cheeks and neck couldn’t be more obvious and his cuteness enhanced his youthfulness. There was no way he was older than me.
A little annoyance settled within me, and I ignored his not-so-subtle eye signals, facing Declan head-on. “Besides the obvious reason that he could be some eighteen-year-old boy trying to make a life for himself, you know why the young man can’t like me.”
