Yuri goes quiet for a moment, and I hear him exhaling smoke on the other end of the line. "He got back three days ago and he's been staying at the house, helping with things around the property."
Vadim left months ago to hunt down every man involved in my nephew's death, and he didn't come back until the job wasfinished. The men who took Yuri's boy are all dead now, and their bodies were dumped where no one will ever find them.
"Good," I tell him while pouring another glass and watching the vodka slosh around my glass. "He did what needed to be done."
"He did." Talking about Dominic is hard for everyone, but we can finally put him to rest. And it brought a measure of healing to whatever was broken between my brother and me. "But we've got bigger problems than grief right now, and you know it."
I knew this was coming because the Balkan syndicate's been circling like vultures ever since we eliminated those corrupt Serbian politicians who were protecting their operations. We cut off their political cover and their smuggling routes in one move, and they're not the type to forgive that easily.
"The Balkans are going to retaliate?" I ask while swirling vodka in my glass and watching it move. Yuri's no fool. He can deduce the same things as me. "It's only a matter of when and how hard they hit us."
"Exactly." Yuri's voice drops lower, and I hear weariness creeping in around the edges of his words. "I've got men watching every property and every business, but they're patient and they're smart."
The Balkans don't rush into fights without planning every detail down to the last bullet and the last body. They'll wait until we let our guard down or until they find a weakness they can exploit and use against us. Then they'll strike fast and leave corpses in their wake as a message to anyone else who thinks about crossing them. They've already proven they can get to people around us—Yaros Veche almost ended us, as did Marat and Victoria.
"What do you need from me?" I ask while setting my glass down. "I can pull more men to rotate shifts at the casino or I can send some of mine to help cover your locations."
"Keep your people where they are for now, and stay alert for anything unusual." Yuri pauses, and I hear him taking a long drag from his cigarette again before he continues. "If something happens, I'll call you immediately, but until then, we maintain normal operations and we don't show weakness."
Normal operations while we wait for an attack that could come from any direction at any moment and catch us off guard. It's the worst part of this life because anticipation eats at you worse than actual violence. You end up sleeping with one eye open and living with eyes on the rearview mirror. But at least when bullets start flying, you know where you stand and who your enemies are and what they want.
"I'll keep eyes open and ears to the ground here," I tell him while standing up to walk toward the window. "Not sure they'll mess with the casino, though." If the Balkans are going to do anything, it will be through an ally, the Kozlovs maybe or the Veches. And we have no beef with them here at the Titan.
"Good." Yuri's tone shifts slightly and becomes more brotherly and less business focused than it was a moment ago. "How's everything else going with you?"
After years of living estranged from this family in Moscow and then moving back, I've come to see the wisdom in my father's ways. Yuri is without a doubt the right leader for this family. I never would've been able to make the decisions he's making. And who the hell would want that much stress, anyway?
"Everything's fine… Just keeping things running smoothly over here."
"Well, I'm glad you're back, Brother. St. Petersburg hasn’t been the same without you. Our mother would be glad you're home, too." Yuri's warm sentiment is proof that his wife is changing things. The advent of a new baby is pulling hard on our roots and reminding us that we don't live forever. Those who are important to us matter most, and if we're not sticking together, what do we have left?
We end the call after a few more exchanges about security protocols and supply chain issues that need handling soon. I set the phone down and turn back to face my desk where the dark monitors sit reflecting my own face back at me in the glass. Tatiana didn't show up here tonight, so tomorrow, I'll corner her during her shift and make her an offer that she won't be able to refuse easily or walk away from.
Maybe I'll tie it to a promotion that comes with better pay and easier hours away from the floor. Maybe I'll offer her a chance to work as my personal assistant where she'll be closer to me every single day and night. Either way, I'll pull her deeper into my world until she has no choice but to see that fighting this attraction between us is pointless and exhausting.
She'll end up in my bed eventually because I always get what I want in the end without exception. It's just a matter of time and patience and finding the right pressure point to apply until her resistance crumbles.
I pour one more glass of vodka and down it before heading toward my bedroom where I'll spend the next few hours thinking about all the ways I plan to make Tatiana mine, whether she's ready for it or not.
And when I wake up, I'll have one objective.
4
TATIANA
The tray slips from my fingers at the roulette table and glasses shatter across the floor in a spray of ice and vodka that splashes up onto my ankles and drains into my heels. Linda appears beside me within seconds, and her mouth's moving, but I can't process the words she's saying over the sound that keeps replaying in my head on an endless loop.
That gunshot is gonna haunt me for the rest of my life. If only I hadn't actually seen what happened, I'd be able to put this out of my head, but I just keep picturing that man's body lying in a puddle of blood and?—
"Tatiana, are you even listening to me right now?" Linda snaps her fingers directly in front of my face, and I force myself to focus on her expression that's shifted from annoyed to concerned. "What the hell's going on with you tonight? You've been completely out of it for the past hour, and now you're dropping trays and breaking glasses all over my floor."
I blink a few times and stare down at my soggy shoes before I respond, but when I speak, it's more of a mumble than clearspeech. "I, uh… I'm not feeling well." I press my empty hand to my belly and wince very unconvincingly. "Must be food poisoning or something. I should probably go home." No way I can finish this shift, anyway. Not with that sound tormenting me.
Linda scowls and glances around the floor before motioning to someone behind me, probably to clean up the glass. She's not a horrible manager, but she isn't very kind about stuff like this most times.
"You look absolutely terrible…" Her words line up with how a boss should speak, but her face is a scowl of frustration.
"I just need to sleep it off and I'll be perfectly fine by tomorrow when my next shift starts." I bend down to start gathering the broken glass, but my hands won't stop trembling. A shard slices into my palm and draws blood immediately.
