I stare at the guard while I try to process the impossible fact that my innocent wife managed to drug the most dangerous man in Russia and slip away unnoticed.
"Really?" I ask, my voice dropping to a dangerously quiet pitch. "She knocked me out cold for seven hours?"
"Yes, sir," he replies while strictly avoiding my gaze. "We were concerned, but we didn't want to intervene." I run a hand through my hair and shake my head. I am impressed despite the rage currently boiling in my blood, and I mutter under my breath about how I never saw it coming.
Viktor shifts his weight beside me and mumbles low enough that he thinks I won't hear him, "You're the only one who thinks that woman is innocent." I snap my head toward him instantly with my eyes narrowing into slits. "Did you say something?"
Viktor stiffens and his face goes pale as he realizes I heard him, so he quickly shakes his head and looks straight forward. "No, sir. Nothing at all."
I hold his gaze for a long second to let him know he is treading on thin ice before I turn back to the guard.
"The executives are waiting for you at the mansion," the guard informs me while checking his watch to break the tension. "They have been there since eight."
"Let them wait," I snap. "we are leaving in ten minutes."
• • •
The drive back is suffocatingly silent as my head pounds from the residual drugs in my system. My mood darkens with every mile because she actually drugged me so she could leave me. I should be furious and tearing the city apart to find her, but mostly I am just exhausted and burning with a rage that could destroy everything.
When we arrive at the mansion, I storm inside without waiting for the door to be opened and head straight for the meeting room. The executives fall silent the moment I enter, standing straight and bowing.
"Pakhan," they greet me in unison. I ignore them and take my seat at the head of the table.
My eyes scan the room taking quick note of who came and who didn’t. They’re all here. Good. "Sit." They sit nervously, sensing the violence in the air.
I don’t say anything for a minute. Instead, I lean back and study them like bugs under a microscope. I look at each of their faces paying particularly close attention to the ring leaders.
Gregory Popov. Black hair he refuses to let turn grey with dye every other day. Cunning eyes but always somehow ended up as Second in command.
Dimitri Vasiliev. The wild card. His brown eyes as familiar to me as my father’s. I didn’t want him initially but I took him by recommendation of my father.
Sergie Kuznetsov. The orchestrator. With how confident he looks it’d be hard to guess he was involved in something like this. He’s the only one not looking nervous. But the thing with me is. I always know everything.
They rest of them though, are starting to sweat under my gaze. Wondering what would have prompted me to call this meeting.
I honestly could’ve dealt with this issue a long time ago but I chose to wait for a day I’d be bored enough to handle it. Unfortunately, that day didn’t come, but today is as good as any.
Finally, I speak. "I called this meeting because I am not in a good mood and I need to clean house."
The tension in the room spikes instantly. I snap my fingers for Viktor to place the files on the table. Gregory stands up abruptly. "This is preposterous, these are very big accusations you are making. Do you know how long some of us have been here? Some of us were here before you were even born."
I raise my hand, and the man immediately shuts up. "I don't care," I say simply. "Everybody is disposable. Those files you see here contain extensive evidence proving that several of you are not just incompetent but are actively working against me."
I point directly at the man near the middle of the table. "You, Sergei. Your name is central to all of this because you are the ringleader." Sergei starts sweating visibly. "That is not true."
"I didn't want to believe it," I continue, my voice getting colder with every word. "You were close to my father, but then I started tracking things. My locations were compromised and most of my shipments were sabotaged. If not for the fact that I have the influence I do, I would have wondered how these puppet governments would have the gall to stop my shipments and raid my warehouses."
I lean forward slightly. "So,” I turn to face Gregory, “sit down, whatever shit you have to say right now will not save you. In fact, even if you had good reason to do it, it won't save youbecause my mood is sour this morning and I need to spill some blood."
Sergei tenses as his hand reaches toward his pocket.
"What?" I ask, my voice dangerously soft. "You want to shoot me in my house? I knew you were arrogant, but I didn't know you could be this foolish."
"It's either you or me," Sergei says, his voice shaking with rage. "You never deserved this position anyway. If it wasn't for your father marrying that stupid woman, we wouldn't be in this mess."
My eyes flash with rage. "Say that again."
Sergei knows he is going to die so he has the balls to continue. "It's true. If only he had married a woman with more influence like we suggested, but it seems the men of your family are cursed to always marry women who take you one step back."
