He's massive, six-three and built like a man who still does his own dirty work. His steel-gray hair is slicked back with pomade, and his thick beard can't hide the cruel set of his jaw. He's wearing an expensive leather jacket over a silk shirt, heavy gold chains glinting at his throat. Everything about him screams old-school Bratva, the kind of ostentatious display I've deliberately moved away from.
His pale gray eyes sweep the office with predatory assessment before landing on me through the glass. He smiles, and it's all teeth and malice.
I stand, buttoning my suit jacket with deliberate precision, and walk to my office door. "Abram. Thank you for coming."
"Roman." His accent is thicker than mine, deliberately so. He wants everyone to know he's not ashamed of where he came from, that he hasn't softened like I supposedly have. "You saidwe needed to talk about business difficulties. I am always happy to help a fellow Pakhan."
The word drips with mockery. He doesn't consider me a true Pakhan anymore. Not since I started building legitimate businesses.
I gesture him into my office. Lev materializes from the shadows near the windows, his dark suit blending with the charcoal walls, his expression professionally neutral. But I see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hand hovers near his jacket where his gun rests.
Abram settles into the chair across from my desk, his massive frame making the expensive furniture look small. He doesn't wait for me to speak. "I hear you've been having problems. Shipments delayed. Financial troubles. Even an unfortunate incident here in your office." His smile widens. "These are dangerous times,da?"
I lean back in my chair, my fingers steepled, keeping my expression carefully neutral. "Yes. Very unfortunate. A series of coincidences that seem almost… coordinated."
"Coincidences." Abram spreads his hands, the picture of innocence. "The docks are complicated. So many regulations, so many workers with their own agendas. And the banks, they are always looking for reasons to freeze accounts. As for the shooting…" He shakes his head with false sympathy. "Random violence. A tragedy."
We're speaking in code, both of us knowing exactly what we're really saying. He's behind it all, and he's enjoying watching me struggle to maintain control without proof.
"I appreciate your concern," I say, my voice low and controlled. "But I'm curious. Have you experienced similar difficulties? Or is my organization uniquely unlucky?"
Abram's smile doesn't waver. "My operations run smoothly. Perhaps it is your modern methods that create vulnerabilities. The old ways, they are more reliable."
The insult is deliberate. He's calling me weak, soft, too American. I feel Lev shift slightly behind me, a subtle warning that mysovietnikrecognizes the provocation for what it is.
Before I can respond, Abram's gaze drifts past me to the glass wall. To Eva.
She's on the phone, her head bent over her notepad, completely unaware of the predator watching her. The way Abram looks at her makes my blood run cold. It's not simple male appreciation. It's calculation. Assessment. The look of a man identifying a target.
"Your secretary," Abram says, his voice casual but his eyes sharp. "She is very beautiful. New,da? I don't remember seeing her before."
Every muscle in my body tenses. "She's been with me for a while."
"Ah." Abram's smile takes on a knowing quality. "And she works very closely with you, I imagine. Sees many things. Knows many secrets." He finally drags his gaze back to me. "It must be difficult, trusting someone so… vulnerable."
The threat is unmistakable. He's noticed Eva. He's identified her as my weakness. And he's letting me know that he can reach her anytime he wants.
My hands clench beneath the desk, but I keep my voice steady. "My staff are well protected. And well compensated for their discretion."
"Of course, of course." Abram stands, his massive frame unfolding with surprising grace. "I should go. I have my own business to attend to. But Roman, if you need assistance with your difficulties, you have only to ask. We are all brothers in the Bratva,da?"
The word "brothers" sounds like a curse coming from his mouth.
I stand as well, not offering my hand. "Thank you for your time, Abram."
He pauses at the door, glancing back at Eva one more time. "Take care of your beautiful things, Roman. This city can be very dangerous."
Then he's gone, the elevator doors closing on his satisfied smile.
The moment he's out of sight, Lev moves to the windows, pulling out his phone. "I'll have him followed. See where he goes, who he meets."
"He knows we will." I pour vodka for both of us, my hands steady despite the rage burning through my veins. "That was a message. He wanted us to know he's noticed Eva."
Lev accepts the glass, his dark eyes troubled. "We need to increase her security. Immediately."
"She already has a detail."
"Not enough." Lev's voice is hard. "Abram doesn't make idle threats. If he's identified her as your weakness, he'll use her. We need to assume she's a target now."
