“Good god,” I whisper, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I’d been so preoccupied with my own misery that I hadn’t thought about others being here, but the moans I’d heard yesterday come back to my mind, making me feel queasy all over again. “How many are there?”
“Twenty including you.”
“What’s your name? Are you one of the twenty?”
“Mindy.” She keeps her eyes down and starts to back out of the room. “No, I’m not. I’m in charge of the food.” Before leaving, she whispers a quick, “I’m sorry,” and shuts and locks the door behind her.
My first day at Ruby’s is painstakingly slow. The lack of a window makes it seem like the walls are slowly closing in on me, making it hard to breathe. I pace my room until I feel like I’m going crazy. Grabbing my backpack, I pull out my books from class. We’d been readingAnna Karenina, and as much as I try to lose myself in the novel, my mind won’t let me escape this room. Occasionally the silence is broken by a door being slammed shut or deep grunts that make my skin crawl. After Mindy drops off my third meal of the day, I sit down, trying my best to not vomit again while a bed frame pounds rhythmically against the wall behind me. This is my life now, I think, pushing my food away in disgust, and it’s only a matter of time before it’s my headboard banging against the goddamn wall.
Chapter 2
Vasily
“Is everything to your liking, Mr. Medvedev?”
I turn from the large window overlooking the ocean to meet my nervous realtor’s eyes. He clutches a folder of paperwork to his chest like a fucking shield and looks everywhere but at me. I’m used to this reaction. If my six-four height and powerful build doesn’t intimidate, then the tattoos that peek out from my expensive suits and my thick Russian accent usually does the trick.
“It’s perfect,” I tell him, noticing the way his shoulders slump in relief. “Thank you for handling all the paperwork, Nathaniel.”
The man’s so grateful he momentarily meets my eyes before darting them away. I’d gotten in touch with him last month before I left Russia, asking him to find me a furnished property in this area, and he’d definitely come through. With forty acres, the place is large enough for me and my top men, and the beachy coastline is a welcome change from downtown Moscow.
I walk over to him and take the paperwork. “I’ll transfer the bonus I promised you for getting this done so quickly.”
“Thank you, sir.”
When Ilya and Andrei walk in, Nathaniel’s face pales as he takes a step back, and I worry he might actually have a heart attack in my nice new living room when Ruslan comes running in, all one hundred and fifty pounds of him. The Tibetan Mastiff looks less like a dog and more like a small bear charging into the house. He sniffs around, eyeing the room before coming to sit at my heels. I pet his head and tell him he’s a good boy in Russian.
Taking pity on the nervous realtor, I say, “I think I have everything I need. If there’s anything else you need me to sign, just email it over, and I’ll take care of it.”
Visibly relaxing, he lets out the breath he’d been holding and gives me a quick nod before speed walking his ass out the door.
“What the fuck is he so nervous about?” Ilya asks, stepping further into the room to admire the view.
“You’d think he’d be happy with that huge commission you just gave him.” Andrei sits down, spreading his arms out along the back of the leather couch already making himself at home.
“He’s suspicious,” I say with a shrug. “He thinks we’re criminals.”
Ilya laughs. “We are criminals.” He runs a tattooed hand through his dark hair while he checks his phone. “The others are set up and awaiting orders.”
“Tell them we’re going out tonight. I want to have a look around.” I smile and say, “We need to introduce ourselves to the local drug dealers so they know who to pay.”
“They’re going to fucking love that,” Andrei says, giving Ruslan a pat when he walks by.
“They’ll learn to love it after a little bit of blood is spilled.” I walk into the kitchen, looking around the house that I’ve only seen pictures of. It really is beautiful. For twelve million it sure the fuck should be.
“Katya and Svetlana will be here later on tonight. They wanted to do some shopping and explore the area before settling in,” I yell over my shoulder, making my way further into the house.
“Thank god,” Ilya moans. “I miss Katya’s cooking already, and Svetlana’s probably bored out of her pretty little head without having to pick up after us.”
Andrei laughs and says something, but I’m already walking up the wide set of stairs off the kitchen and too far away to catch the fast string of Russian. One of the reasons why I chose this house is because of how big it is. Ilya and Andrei can each take a couple of rooms downstairs, leaving me the upstairs all for myself with plenty of room to spare. There’s an apartment above the four-car garage that will be perfect for Katya and Svetlana. Katya’s been working for the Medvedev family since before I was born, and her daughter, Svetlana, has been with us her whole life. I was two when she was born and she’s the closest thing to a sister my brothers and I have.
Walking into the large bedroom, I can’t help but be impressed. Windows line the walls, giving me an amazing view of the ocean, and there’s a set of French doors that open out onto a private balcony. A small sitting area is in the corner, complete with leather chairs and a large bookcase, and the king-size bed looks comfy as hell. I walk through the large closet and bathroom, admiring the river-stone floor and rain showerhead. There’s also a massive clawfoot tub that I’m guessing I’ll never use, but all in all, the place is perfect.
Opening the French doors, I rest my hands on the balcony and look out at the ocean, eyeing the large, jagged rocks that dot the sandy beach. Setting up the Medvedev Bratva in America had been my father’s dream, and now he’s rotting six feet under, and it’s my ass in the States. His death five years ago changed everything. I always knew as the oldest son that one day I’d head the Bratva, but I hadn’t expected to be handed the reins at twenty-seven. I’d been naïve in so many ways, too busy getting my dick wet and my knife bloody to see the bigger picture, but finding my dad with his throat slit had been a wake-up call I’ll never forget. Now Vladimir and Valeri are running the Bratva in Moscow while I set up things here.
The first thing I’d done after becomingpakhanwas to get revenge for our father’s death. We’d tracked those fuckers down and made them pay. Some claimed I was a little too exuberant about it, a little too cruel, but the reputation I started to build has served me well. Better a man be too scared than not scared enough. A scared man is a cautious one, and that’s what I like. I don’t want bold men unless they’re on my payroll.
Ruslan comes up and presses his large head against my thigh, giving me a nudge that could easily knock a young child over. I reach down and pet him. Even on a private jet, the long flight had been a little hectic with such a large dog, but there was no way in hell I could leave him behind. I’ve had him since he was a pup, and I like him more than most people. I give him a good scratch behind the ears before going to make sure everything is in place for tonight.
