Prologue
Dmitri
I pull up in the long driveway of Alexei's mansion, then step out of the car and look around.
The night is deceptively calm, but I can see the shadows of Alexei’s men stationed at every entrance and vital point of the estate. To untrained eyes, they're invisible, but I spot them all in an instant.
I walk inside, heading straight for the dining area. Alexei has invited me over for dinner tonight, but I know it’s never just about family with him anymore—not since he becamepakhan. There’s always business to discuss.
“Nice of you to join us early, brother,” Viktor says, arching his brows sarcastically.
“Glad I didn't keep you waiting,” I reply with a smirk as I take my usual seat at the long dining table.
Viktor snorts, reaching for the half-empty vodka bottle to pour himself a glass. Mikhail’s in California, but I can hear his voice echo faintly over the speaker Alexei placed at the center of the table.
Alexei sits at the head of the table, his expression unreadable as always. He has that quiet control about him, the kind that doesn’t need to raise its voice to command obedience. Thepakhan. My brother. The man who rebuilt the Balshov empire out of the ashes of our father’s insanity.
Sergei stands behind him, half-hidden in shadow, his eyes moving between us. Most people forget he’s in the room until he speaks. That’s what makes him useful.
“Anya should be about finished with dinner,” Alexei says, glancing at his watch, then over at Sergei. “She’s out with a friend from college. Go bring my wife home.”
I look up in time to catch something flicker in Sergei’s usually blank eyes, but it's gone before I can decipher it. For a moment, our eyes meet, and I get that faint instinct I’ve learned never to ignore—the kind that tells me to pay attention.
Later…I’ll think about it later.
“Yes, boss,” Sergei finally says with a stiff nod and turns around to leave.
“Let's get to business,” Alexei says the moment the door closes behind his bodyguard. “There's been a new development. My contact in the Bureau called this afternoon. The FBI has opened a new investigation. Our family is back on their radar.”
Viktor swears under his breath. I’m not surprised, though. I saw this coming long before our father’s death.
The man made a lot of messes and even more enemies.
I lean back in my chair and watch Alexei pull a file from the folder beside him. He slides it across the table toward me and Viktor.
“Special Agent Bill Turner,” Alexei continues. “Career man. Clean record. Too clean. But he’s smart. He’s already requested subpoenas on two of our shell companies. That means he’s got someone feeding him details.”
I flip open the folder. The man’s photo stares back at me: square jaw, federal stiffness, eyes that look like they’ve seen too much but learned nothing.
Boring. Predictable.
Then I turn to the next page and find myself staring at the picture of a girl with a smile so bright it's almost blinding. Long, dark golden curls frame her face, accentuating her delicate features. But it’s her eyes that stop me. They are a unique shade of blue with streaks of silver, giving them an enchanting quality.
I've never seen eyes so beautiful…
I look away from the picture long enough to skim through her profile. Mireille Turner. Twenty-one. College student. Criminal justice major.
I return my gaze to her picture, lingering a beat too long.
“She’s his daughter,” Alexei says quietly. “She goes to Fordham University. Junior year. No record. No arrests. Not even a speeding ticket. Completely ordinary.”
She looks anything but ordinary with those bewitching eyes.
“Ordinary is good,” I say anyway. “Ordinary people don’t notice when they’re being watched.”
Viktor snorts. “You volunteering to babysit the Fed’s daughter?”
I close the folder and rest my hands on top of it. “I’m volunteering to find leverage.”
