I know Sergey. I know his game of consequence. And if he thinks for even a second that she is my Omega, my entire fucking reason, he will break her slowly, piece by piece, in front of me. For no other reason than for shits and giggles. Like he has done since the day I was born. Like he will do until one of us is dead.
As I pass her, though, I drag her scent deep into my lungs—sweet vanilla, textured and emotive. I move so close to her, I could count the freckles over her nose, but I act like she is not even there.
It nearly breaks me to treat her so badly. My chest hammers harder under the weight of my guilt. I should be on my knees, worshipping, and I am acting like she doesn’t even exist.
I feel my designation stirring to life like a bear from hibernation. I lock down that side of me, too, like I have done since the day I rose as an Alpha. If Sergey gets wind of anything he perceives as a challenge, he’ll retaliate. Exactly like a toddler would.
One day, I will incite him enough for him to lose control again. One day, I want to show him how right he was about me being the strongest Alpha born in this family. But not until I have her tucked somewhere safe, with everything she needs surrounding her.
After dumping Sergey’s “gift,” I look at him. Turning to my good side, my hand rubs over the long, uneven scar, my reminder of consequences and Sergey’s little games.
“Brother, all this”—I wave my hand around, careful not to point at him—“can wait until I return. Honestly, reminding our friends of who they are working with is more important than filling a cunt.” I grin at him. “It was a hard choice. Of course you send me someone as fucking gorgeous as she is, but you are, and always will be, my priority.”
I feed his ego with my carefully considered wording, hoping the smoke screen is enough for him to forget about his future wife. At least until I know what the fuck to do.
Sergey throws his head back and laughs. “Fine, fine. No doubt she prefers my cock, anyway.”
“True,” I muse, fighting the internal war to stay bland and unaffected while the truth is far more… lethal.
His eyes move over his fiancée slowly. “Look at the trash Victor sends me. I should have stopped this.”
I step in front of him, obscuring his view. “We will find a way to make it work, Sergey. We focus on the door it opens, nothing else.”
“My girls don’t like her either.”
“They don’t need to. What we do need to do, though, is keep her properly protected. What if Larisa decides she likes Dmitri’s small prick again?”
“I never would,” she insists, still planted on her ass at our feet.
I see the moment my words sink in, and my ploy of turning this from anything to do with his future wife to the recent humiliation Sergey had to suffer from one of his most faithful friends and associates is successful.
Dmitri was his confidant, his most loyal, until Dmitri decided he wanted the glory of power over friendship. The politics in the Russian mafia have always been a tinderbox, igniting with the smallest provocation. Loyalties are traded more often than Sergey’s mood flips, making the power dynamic of the Bratva shift like the seasons.
Sergey turns to his mistress talking in Russian. “Go back to my suite, Bambi. Take the girls with you. I need to talk to my brother.”
They scurry away like rodents. They know the consequence of not doing what Sergey says or daring to question his will. It’s why they have lasted as long as they have. He glares at his fiancée, still frozen on the spot where I first saw her, until the sound of the others is completely gone.
I flick my chin at the guard, and he leaves so Sergey and I can talk in confidence.
I talk quietly as soon as we are alone, not worriedshewill hear since we speak in Russian. “I’m away until the Irish are done. We need to lock her down. If Dmitri finds out about her, he will search for answers as to who she is. If he discovers your alliance with Victor, all your patience and hard work will be nothing but a waste of time. You’ve done what no one else could, brother—diplomatic immunity is the key to places no one else can open. The only thing more satisfying is knowing you’ve achieved the unachievable without anyone suspecting a thing.”
“It’s been a long time since Father and I sat in the consulate’s office,” he admits. And then he rubs a hand over his face, uncharacteristically dropping his guard.
I see how tired he is, and it pleases me to no end. Though, I act his concerned, always-eager-to-help brother.
The reason we went out last night should have been resolved before dawn, but a series of small issues festered into huge fucking problems that cost us a lot of money and the lives of a handful of our men. Which is a solid reminder of how fate invariably brings a series of events at the right time so preordained destiny can fulfill itself. Some find the concept impossible to accept, but it brings me peace knowing all this is for a reason and is happening how, and when, it needs to happen.
Sergey, though, is not as “open-minded” as I am. His drive for power and success is the only thing that makes sense to him.
He looks at me, searching for reassurance, and I return it to him in spades. “Lock the house down. All of it.”
I nod, agreeing in an instant. He’s been adamant that he wants to give the appearance we weren’t rattled by the moves Dmitri has been responsible for. The lavish parties, not having security on his future wife, having meetings in his office downstairs have been done as a show of his strength and power. A sign he isn’t afraid of the unrest or that he considers Dmitri a threat. But it’s also a sign he knows the end is in sight with Victor.
I nearly sag with relief.
“Let the dogs roam the grounds again,” I suggest.
We’ve always had dog patrols, but he scaled that back, too, not wanting anything to add to the appearance of being weak. But now is not the time for him to be worried about how others will view his actions.
