Chapter 28 Episode 28

Things have always come easy for him, and so he just assumes life will always go his way. He doesn’t realize that I’ve been there in the shadows the whole time, dragging obstacles out of his way so that he wouldn’t have to struggle the way I did. Of course, Otets argued that my struggle was necessary in order to shape me into the kind of leader I had to become. Yulian escaped the hardships only because he didn’t have the burden of responsibility to deal with. And yet sometimes, it’s hard not to be resentful. “Someone wants a break between our Bratvas,” I say. “Probably the same person spreading the rumors. We need to find out who it is.” “That’s a long list of suspects,” Lev warns. “Better get to it, then. But first things first: we set up the meeting.” “What do you have in mind?” asks Yulian. “A dinner,” I say. “Civilized. Cordial. We need to remind Rodion about the relationship between our respective Bratvas. Show him that it’s in his best interests to continue our alliance. At least for now.” Both of my right-hand men look up at me in surprise. “Huh?” they chorus in unison. “I have no intention of sharing business interests with the Ivanovs for that much longer,” I explain. “Otets was foolish to twine our empires together. I plan on unraveling them as soon as possible.” “Anton,” Yulian says, his mouth hanging open, “separating yourself from the Ivanovs should not be the goal.” “Uniting the two Bratvas,” he says. “That was always the plan.” “Yes—back when Marina was my wife and we were supposed to produce heirs together. Her death changed all that.” “Call me crazy, but you sound relieved,” Yulian mutters. Yulian and Lev exchange a glance, but I’m not interested in deciphering what each man thinks about this. I’ve made up my own mind where the Ivanovs are concerned. I want to avoid war, but I no longer have any interest in continuing the interlocked alliance that my father started. It’s time for the Stepanov Bratva to go its own way. And if Rodion doesn’t like that… he can f*****g deal with it. “You want me to look into venues for this dinner?” Yulian asks, getting to his feet eagerly. “Get preliminary plans underway,” I tell him. “I’ll finalize them once you’ve got things organized.” Yulian nods and heads out of my office. Lev turns to me with a raised eyebrow and a devilish expression on his face. “I’ve seen you look like that only a handful of times,” I remark. “It never turned out good for me.” He grins. “You’re going to need a caterer for this thing, aren’t you?” He shrugs. “This conversation just reminded me of the kinds of hell you went through with Marina. If this new chick is giving you a little excitement, some distraction, then you deserve it.” Lev laughs. “I’ll pour. And I’ll be sure she’s there.” I nod, pleased. And just like that, this dinner gets a lot more interesting. “I’m sorry,” Freya says for the tenth time this morning. “I really am. I guess I just assumed it would play out differently.” “It was my fault,” I tell her. “You didn’t know just how bad it was. How bad he is.” “He really just charmed the cops?” Freya asks in disbelief. “Like freaking hypnosis,” I sigh. “He even got them to stay for coffee. They chatted about golf.” We walk into Café Nervosa, past the line of impatient people waiting outside. “Are you sure we can do this?” Freya asks, ducking her head to avoid the stink eye being thrown our way from the people in line. “I used to wait tables here back in the day,” I tell her. “The owner is awesome. And one of the perks of being a good waitress here is you get a table whenever you want. Watch.” I stride up to the hostess counter. When the girl working sees me, her face splits in a huge grin. “Look what the cat dragged in!” she screeches happily. “Hey, Marianne,” I say as we hug. “I called this morning for a table.” “Right this way,” she says with a smile. “I’ve placed you by the window, is that okay?” Marianne situates both of us with drinks and the brunch menu. “Do you need a moment or are you ready to order?” “We’ve got one more person coming,” I say. “So give us ten?” “Sure thing.” She hurries off to help a needy couple waving for her attention. Freya turns to me curiously. “Who’s the third wheel?” “His name is Chris. He’s my best friend.” “Oh?” Freya asks, looking immediately interested. “I think the two of you will hit it off,” I say. “He’s been my closest friend for ages. In fact, he was the only one who warned me off Dane.” “I like him already,” Freya says, ignoring the menu completely. “I take it he knows about your… problem?” “He does,” I say. “But I haven’t really filled him in on the last couple of visits I’ve received from you-know-who.” “Because he’ll only worry,” I explain. “And I’ve put him through enough as it is.” Freya leans in a little and lowers her voice. “How pissed was he once the cops left?” “He was… annoyed,” I admit. “But I wouldn’t say he was pissed.” “Huh,” she says, frowning. “Weird.” Weird doesn’t begin to cover what happened. When I think about the full extent of his “reaction,” I feel myself go beet red. I’m hoping Freya doesn’t notice. But she has already proven herself to be eagle-eyed. I shake my head. “I’m not.” “Oh my God, Jessa. Look at you. You totally are. What aren’t you telling me?” When I don’t answer, her eyes go wide with shock. “Don’t tell me—wait, no, c’mon now—you seriously have the hots for this guy?” I look around in panic. Because God, I really, really don’t want Chris hearing that. Thankfully, he hasn’t made an appearance yet. “He’s… he’s attractive. But it’s not like that.” Freya shakes her head at me. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” “There’s nothing,” I say, but I don’t even manage to convince myself. Freya’s sights are locked on me, and I know she’s not going to let up until I give her something. I haven’t told her about the fact that I’ve already slept with Anton, and I don’t plan to, either. There’s no way I’ll ever live that down. “Hey, I thought we were the type of friends that can be honest with one another,” she whines. Since it would be too rude to point out that we’ve been friends for all of, like, five minutes, I settle for a more diplomatic response. Her eyes go wide. For a moment, she looks like some intrepid young reporter who just got her first whiff of a huge breaking story. She’s so direct that I find myself giving her exactly what she wants. Well… not exactly what she wants. I’m guessing what she wants is the truth. But I only give her part of it. Her jaw drops to the table. “No!” “Just to clarify, it was before I knew who he is and what he does.” “He kissed me,” I clarify quickly. “I mean, there was chemistry from the beginning, and I wasn’t exactly pushing him away. But yeah, it happened and I’ve felt guilty about it ever since.” Freya stares at me. Her blue eyes seem to get a little brighter, a little more focused. “So…?” she says, drumming her fingers on the table rapid-fire. “So how was it?!” she exclaims in exasperation. I blush and pretend to be suddenly interested in the menu I already know by heart. “That’s neither here nor there.” “Come on. Give me the deets. Spill the beans. Share the tea. Air the dirty laundry.” I sigh. She is like a bulldog with a bone. “It was… amazing, okay?” She sighs. “Makes sense. He looks like he can kiss.” “He can kill, too. That’s the problem.” “It’s okay, Jessa. You don’t have to pretend with me.” I frown. “What do you mean?” “I mean that I’ve been there, too. He’s so much more attractive because of the danger he represents. He’s exciting. Off-limits in a way that makes him more desirable. Am I right?” Her explanation fits in a little too well with Anton’s theory that I chase drama. Instinctively, I rear back from it, but even I can see why. “I just didn’t know who he was. Otherwise, I would never have gotten on that boat.” “But you did get on the boat,” she points out. “Why?” “I’ll bet,” she says, raising her eyebrows. “Good pick.” “Not like that,” I snap. “I meant that I wanted to immerse myself in a job and not have to think about my fiancé and best friend cheating together.” “You got way more than you bargained for then.” “God, you have no idea.” “Did you sleep with him?” she stage-whispers. I glare at her. “You’ve asked me that question before.” “So why do I get the feeling you lied the first time?” Her brow arches, eyes searching. And I double down. Because no way am I admitting to sleeping with a murderer. “No. Just a kiss.” My entire body ignites with goosebumps. I’m thankful for the long-sleeved cotton shirt I’m wearing. “I told you what happened last night.” She gives me a shrewd look. “I can smell the guilt coming off you right now, Jessa. Just tell me.”