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DEMYEN
For once, I’m actually pleasantly surprised by my father.
It’s not that I expected him to reside in some damp hovel under an overpass, or in some seedy hotel where just the sight of the bedsheets makes me want to update my vaccines. I just wasn’t expecting to roll up a cobblestone driveway to a subdued manor that looks like it’s owned by some corporate executive, his wife, and two-point-five snot-nosed kids.
There’s even an array of flower boxes in the goddamned windows.
On a strategic level, it does make sense. No one will ever suspect what happens in a home like this. It’s located near enough to The Strip for supplies and meetings and close enough to the other edge of town for Oleg to make a quick, clean escape if he needed to.
And the size of the lawn means prying eyes have nothing to see.
I can’t begrudge my father his cunning. I do get mine fromsomewhere, and it sure as fuck wasn’t my mother.
Pavel and I are welcomed into the foyer by a silent butler. We know the drill—no guns, no knives, no bombs. This is a peaceful meeting to discuss family business.
Besides, I don’t need weapons to kill Oleg Zakrevsky. If push comes to shove, I can crack his skull with my bare hands.
A young woman in the skimpiest French maid’s uniform I have ever seen meets us beneath a large archway leading to what looks like a sitting room.
“If you’ll follow me, sirs,” she says in a very soft voice, “I’ve been instructed to bring you to his garden.”
Pavel smiles warmly at her and nods for her to lead the way. It’s a miracle she doesn’t slip and break her ankle—or neck—in those gravity-defying heels.
Which, at a second glance… remind me of the heels I made Clara wear to the cocktail party back at my villa.
I feel sick to my stomach.
We follow the “maid” through the sitting room, through a rustically elaborate dining room, and out to what appears to be a courtyard garden. Sitting in a lounger, sipping some fruity cocktail and laughing with another scantily-clad woman on his knee, is Oleg.
I’d bet good money this is exactly where all those tens of millions of dollars from the Cayman Islands went: wine, women, and luxury lodging.
“So good of you to finally make it over,” Oleg remarks without bothering to turn around and look at us.
“I had a few errands to run.”
“And Pavel, my boy…” When Oleg does finally turn around, he fixes his piercing gaze on Pavel as if I’m not standing right in front of him. “It’s been too long! Look how you’ve grown!”
Just because we were kids when he left doesn’t mean he gets to patronize either of us. I can tell Pav’s hackles are instantly raised, but out of respect for both myself and the elder Zakrevsky, he remains silent.
I, however, step between them and fold my arms with impatience. “I’m here. I’m busy, so we need to make this quick. What do you want to discuss?”
Oleg sighs heavily and shoos the woman off his lap so he can roll up onto his feet. He’s by no means obese, but watching him from this angle definitely highlights the extra weight he’s put on over the years.
Good. It means he’s slower.
“Always in such a rush.” He waves an annoyed and dismissive hand at me, polishing off his cocktail with a loud slurp. “I can’t imagine what the fuck is so important you can’t spare an hour or two with your own father.”
I want to snap back something scathing, like how I can’t spare five minutes with his bloated ass. But I have to remind myself: I need him to lower his guard. I need insight into whatever the hell he’s up to, especially where Raizo’s concerned.
So I pretend to agree and play the role of a doting son whoisn’twondering if that wine glass stem could pierce his skull with a hard enough blow. “New shipments coming in and someone blew up my biggest warehouse. I’m a bit on edge.”
“Bah. That’s what you get for hiring shitty security.”
Pavel shifts his weight between his feet, the only sign of irritation he’ll ever give in front of Oleg. We know better than to give the man an excuse to gloat his self-perceived superiority over us; he’s going to do it without our help or invitation.
“Anyways.” Oleg gestures to the two women now standing silently off to the side. “New acquisitions I’m training for sale. Two of my best behaved from the recent crop, but I have six more in the basement who seem very promising.”
I steal a glance at Pavel as we fall in behind Oleg’s slow pace back inside the house. He gives me a very subtle, quick nod: given the opportunity, we’ll see what we can do to help free those women.
