Ivan straightens. “Name it.”
“There’s a fund. Legacy Holdings. You’ve had it shelved in the Caymans for years, under a nominee director from Bratislava. I want access to those books. Not control, just oversight.”
Ivan’s lips twitch. “You think I’m hiding something?”
“I want to know the terrain before I let your family back on the field.”
A pause. Then, “Agreed.”
We shake on it. His hand is warm. Mine stays cold.
“Just so we’re clear,” I say as I pull away, “this doesn’t mean I admit to Tatiana’s version of events. I’m offering opportunity, not apology.”
Ivan’s smile doesn’t fade, it tightens. “Understood. And appreciated.”
We both stand. We shake again, then we part ways.
Lev is waiting in the alley behind the trattoria, one hand resting on the roof of the car. Rain slicks the concrete. He doesn’t ask how it went. Just jerks his chin toward the car.
I slide in and he follows. The doors shut, sealing us inside the kind of silence only men like us know how to respect.
“Well?” he says finally.
“They wanted compensation,” I reply, watching the water snake down the window. “A job for his nephew. Maybe a seat at the table, if I was feeling generous.”
Lev snorts. “Ivan always did think too much of his bloodline. Compensation for what?”
“Tatiana put on a show. Claimed I misled her. Made it about hurt feelings.” I glance at him. “You think they’re actually insulted, or just using it to leverage?”
“Little of both,” he says. “Tatiana’s got pride. Ivan’s got greed. And Denis,” he smirks, “he’s just got indigestion and a short fuse.”
We drive in silence for a bit as the city blurs past.
“You think they’re involved in this fed bullshit?” Lev asks as the car eases through the gray mid afternoon traffic.
“Maybe,” I admit. “Thought the meeting might give something away—a slip, a tell. Some sign the Abramovs were in bed with Spalding.”
Lev snorts. “And?”
“Nothing.” I glance out the rain-slicked window. “If they’re involved, Ivan’s playing it deep. But honestly, it didn’t feel like that. Felt more like a father trying to protect his daughter’s pride. No angles, no coded language. Just Tatiana.”
Lev’s silent for a beat. “Ivan’s always been halfway decent. For Bratva stock, anyway. A little too doting when it comes to his daughter, maybe, but loyal. Predictable.”
“I still don’t like it,” I murmur. “He came to me playing it soft, hoping I’d throw him a bone. But at least I got something out of him—access to one of the funds he manages. Legacy Holdings.”
Lev raises an eyebrow. “Smart.”
“I’ll throw it to Astrid,” I say. “See if there’s anything buried in it. If Spalding’s tied to any of their movement, it’ll show up somewhere.”
Lev grins. “Comes in handy, having a brilliant woman on the inside.”
“She’s following a separate trail, too. Those documents we pulled from the warehouse, she’s sorting through them. Spalding’s payments, shell companies, all of it. If there’s a tie to the cartel, she’ll sniff it out.”
Lev whistles low. “That’s not just trust. That’s putting the crown jewels in someone’s hands.”
“She hasn’t let me down yet.”
And I don’t think she will.
