The stupid shit some people wanted to say.
The idiotic stories they’d speculate on and spread like fact.
While some of us were addressing leaders trying to make a power play on us, I asked a couple of others to focus on any threats that might suggest an enemy wanted to use our Pakhan’s decline as a diversion. Sure, we were focusing on my father, but not so much that we’d be too distracted from handling business as usual.
Obsessing about how sweet Elena was when she came for me wasn’t business as usual.
Replaying the memory of how tight she’d felt wrapped around my fingers wasn’t supposed to be my business at all.
What did fall under “business” was meeting with members of the Konstantin bratva. Maksim and I handled that headache the morning after I’d fingered Elena.
“They can’t be a threat,” Maksim told me as we rode away from meeting with their leader. “They’re too small to take over anything.”
I stared him down. “I’d like to believe that. But they are an old and established faction. If they joined with other smaller Bratvas throughout the country…”
“There’s no point in playing the game ofwhat if, Brother.”
Later that afternoon, I accompanied Lev on a visit at one of our warehouses near the border. The Garcia Cartel had always been a solid ally, but they were voicing concerns about the Hernandez Cartel that was branching further north out of Colombia and setting up outposts throughout Texas.
Come morning, I felt irritated and more stressed than ever.
I sat in my father’s chair, eyeing the wooden panels of the walls, pausing to follow the ornate lines of the ornamental crown molding. Real craftsmanship was due credit here. But it didn’t matter where I looked. It was his. His office. His role to lead.
Not mine.
I wasn’t in denial about my future, but I couldn’t understand when it wouldfitme.
A few light knocks sounded on the door. I closed my eyes, the chair back facing the open door. While I didn’t want any distractions today, any more fires to put out, I knew this wouldn’t be another episode of trouble in my lap.
I smelled her, that sweet, citrusy perfume of her shampoo.
I felt her presence, that warmth and helpfulness she exuded.
Without swiveling the chair to address Elena after her delicate knocks, I needed to fortify myself with the patience and control to see her.
This womanwastrouble. She made me want her too damn much.
And her being here was trouble. I wantedherto land in my lap so I could vent some of my frustration. The allure of knowing I’d feel so much better afterward had me seriously debating whether I was a wise man or a stupid fool to deny myself from having this woman.
One push of my foot sent the chair spinning.
She stood there in another professionally proper white blouse, another plain skirt, stretchy and gray, molding to her hips.
Her light-blonde hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she had the fuck-me glasses on that only emphasized the bright blue of her beautiful but worried eyes.
“Mr. Volkov?—”
“What?” I snapped.
What she called me shouldn’t have mattered, but it did. She couldn’t go back to that fucking formality. Not when my favorite bit of memory was replaying the sound of her saying my name as she got closer to coming in my hand.
“Adrik,” she corrected immediately, her cheeks blushing. “I have some things to report. To present.” She held up the laptop, as ifshe needed a prop to be confident enough in facing me. “About the matter you asked me to look into.”
I nodded. “Then show me.”
I was asking for trouble to invite her into my space. I was taking a huge risk to defy my rule for distance between us. But I would never turn down an employee’s offer of intel.
She entered the room, standing on the other side of the desk as she put the laptop down. Her phone tumbled out of her hand and she set it aside.
