Chapter 14: Artem

"He insists that his people had nothing to do with the cyberattack on our database," Yuri's voice came through the phone held over my ear.

I pressed my thumb and index finger against the bridge of my nose as I stood in the living room downstairs. In a neatly tailored black suit, I was all dressed up, ready for the evening gala that I'd been invited to. It was an invite that I would've normally passed on, but I didn't because even though I wasn't feeling the whole fancy gala thing, it was an opportunity to show off my wife.

Still listening to Yuri talk about our little prisoner, Jacob, I glanced at the Rolex wrapped around my wrist, wondering what was taking my wife so long to get ready. Women would always be women, anyway.

"Do you believe him?" I asked Yuri, using this conversation as an excuse to keep my mind occupied with something other than Sierra.

"I don't know, Pakhan ," he said. "I've used every trick in the book—tried every technique—but the Irishman wouldn't break."

The frustration in his voice was subtle, but I could sense it. Yuri's methods always yielded results, so his displeasure with this situation was understandable.

"We need to be sure, Yuri," I said, gently scratching my forehead as my mind flooded with different possibilities on that matter. "We can't afford to make a mistake with him."

"I know that," he replied. "But trust me, I've never seen anyone hold out like this before—at least not in a long time. So, it's either he's tougher than I gave him credit for, or he's actually telling the truth."

I exhaled slowly, dragging a palm across my mouth. I was buying time to think as I weighed my next move. Jacob was a tough nut to crack, but since Yuri thought that there was a possibility of the Irish being innocent of this cyberattack, then it was worth considering. Niall Donovan was an impulsive man; he wouldn't mind going to extreme lengths over this. We needed to play it smart.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, Pakhan ." Yuri heaved a sigh over the phone, like the next words he'd utter would go against everything he stood for. "But what if we're looking at this from the wrong angle?" He paused and continued. "Because if we are, if we're wrong, and anything happens to Jacob on our watch, then things could get ugly really fast."

"Since when has that been a problem for you?" I scoffed, knitting my brows.

"Since you now have a wife—a family of your own. The last thing you need right now, Pakhan , is an all-out war, and if we keep Jacob here much longer, Niall will not hesitate to respond," he gave the most sensible reply I'd heard from him all week.

A smirk played on my lips as I stood there, impressed by his words. I couldn't believe that he was capable of thinking from another point of view, and it was rather refreshing—a little awkward coming from him, but refreshing. He was starting to pick up a thing or two from me. Usually, his first instinct in situations like this was drastic, and he never cared about the consequences. This was a pleasant surprise, an improvement in his personality.

"You're right," I said. "Donovan will stop at nothing until he gets his right-hand man back, and he won't care who gets caught in the crossfire."

"What do you want me to do?" he asked after a moment of silence on both ends.

The click of Sierra's heels coupled with the sweet fragrance of her perfume announced her arrival, and I turned to face her, my gaze meeting hers as she lingered on the top step.

"Let him go," I said to Yuri, my voice calm yet firm and my eyes never leaving the damsel in my sight. "And don't forget to mess him up a little bit to send a message."

"Understood."

I ended the call and lowered my phone as she gracefully walked down the steps in an elegant red gown that hugged her curves like a second skin, accentuating her figure and cinched waist. She had on a pair of impossible heels that sold her out as a model. Her dark hair was styled in loose, sultry waves, cascading down her back in a manner that framed her face and illuminated her pale skin.

As she descended the stairs like a pageant queen, her green eyes glimmered like polished jade, smooth and radiant with a depth that drew me in. I was enamored by her beauty, and while her pretty smile warmed my stone-cold heart, the daring slit up her dress revealed glimpses of her alluring legs that had my cock rising in my pants.

The air was filled with her perfume as she halted in front of me, a beautiful smile spreading across her face. The light makeup she wore seemed to naturally blend with her pale skin—nothing flashy, just simple and unique.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," she said, her tone low and seductive.

"No, I look like I've seen a goddess," I replied with a cocky grin.

Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes lit up, sparkling like emeralds in the lights.

Everything about her was turning me on right now, and I wanted so badly to act on my feelings, to lift her up and fuck her on the couch, against the wall, and even on the stairs. I envisioned that for a moment, and it felt good, awesome . My cock was swelling up at the thought of the things that I could do to her this instant, but I was fighting to remain in control.

She was shy, subtly looking away from my gaze with that sweet innocence coloring her eyes. "You don't look so bad yourself."

"Really?" I stepped forward, casting a flirty grin at her.

She nodded, and I took her hand, pulling her to me. Sierra let out a soft gasp, her eyes widening upon feeling my erection.

"Don't look at me like that," I said, leaning closer. "You caused it."

She giggled softly. "But I didn't do anything."

"You didn't have to," I whispered into her ears, running my fingers along her smooth arm, feeling her skin against mine.

She trembled at my touch and discreetly bit her lower lip. "This is a bad idea," she said with a quiet, sexy tone. "We're already late." Sierra looked at me. "Don't start what you can't finish."

I smirked at her little resistance; it was admirable, even though I knew she'd fall with just a couple more tweaks here and there. But she was right; we were already running late, and this wasn't the time to have her. I'd love to take my time and explore that body rather than rush things up for a few minutes. She was worth the wait.

"Fine," I said, stepping away with a hand stretched out.

She smiled and took it, allowing me to lead her to the car outside. Once settled in, the driver started the engine and drove away.

She looked happy, seated by my side in the backseat; it was to be expected, considering that this was her first time outside since the wedding.

The pride in my gaze couldn't be more subtle, and I wouldn't take my eyes off the glowing woman beside me. She was my wife, and I took pride in that fact; I would show her off to everyone tonight. Sierra was definitely going to be the prettiest woman in the hall, and I couldn't wait to see the looks on my associates' faces when they realized she was mine.

"Can I ask you something?" She looked at me, a little skeptical about whether or not to go ahead with her question.

"Shoot," I said with a welcoming expression.

"I know you said not to meddle in your business but I just—"

"What is it?" I cut her off.

She exhaled softly. "The Irish guy in our office the other day…. Did you…? Is he…?"

I cocked my head at her, taken aback by her sudden interest in my prisoner, but I knew what she was trying to ask. "I didn't kill him, if that's what you wanna know."

Something like relief flashed through her gaze, her shoulders drooping, and I figured she was glad I held back on taking a life.

"You think so little of me, Sierra," I said, my low tone hinting at the monstrosity she always saw in me.

She just smiled but didn't reply, instead, she fixed her eyes out the window.

A couple of minutes later, we arrived at the event, and the car pulled over by the building. Stepping outside, I walked over to her side to help with the door.

She took my hand, her heels settling upon the asphalt by the sidewalk as her alluring thigh came into view, catching my eyes. I helped her out of the car, and with her arm locked in my elbow, we walked over the red rug that carpeted the entrance.

The doors parted, and we waltzed into the expansive space filled with a mix of different scents, quiet conversations, and soft music from a live band. Political leaders, humanitarians, and other crème de la creme of society lingered in small groups with smiley faces as though a majority of them didn't hate each other. Fucking hypocrites!

I took a glass of champagne from a waiter's tray as he passed by, my eyes scanning the surroundings before turning to my elegant wife, who was, by the way, the most beautiful woman in the hall.

"Are you okay?" I asked, noticing her absentmindedness.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine." She smiled. "I'm just not used to being around fancy people." Sierra looked toward a lady in a blue dress, discussing with some Hollywood stars at a distance. "Hold a second." Her eyes widened. "Is that Demi Lovato?"

I traced her gaze and looked closely at the woman. "No, it's not. Although I heard that she's supposed to be here tonight."

She turned to face me almost immediately, shock flickering in her eyes as she pushed her head backward.

"What?" I asked, despite knowing exactly what was on her mind.

"Nothing…. I'm just surprised that you know who Demi Lovato is; that's all." She chuckled.

I sipped out of my glass. "I'm not immune to pop culture."

She smiled.

"Artem fucking Tarasov," Gilbert Grey said, walking up to us in a nice black tux with two slender ladies by his side. "This man is more ruthless than John fucking Wick." He laughed, stretching out his hand.

"Good to see you too, Grey." I shook it.

"Sarah, Laurel." He shifted his gaze across the two ladies with him. "Take a bow. You're standing before a living legend, Artem Tarasov, one of the most feared men in my line of work." Grey chuckled, smoothing a hand over his permed blond hair. "That's strange." He looked at Sierra. "Never seen you with a damsel before." The statement was directed at me.

"Grey, meet my wife, Sierra," I said, unable to keep the tinge of smugness out of my voice.

"The fuck? Wife? " His brows rose in surprise. "Don't tease me." He seemed to be holding back an outburst.

"Have I ever?" I asked, looking all serious.

"Are you kidding me? That's fucking amazing—and she's even more amazing. You hit the jackpot with this one, my friend." He faced her, dramatically sketching a bow. "It's nice to make your acquaintance, my lady," he said, mimicking a British accent.

Grey was an old business associate of mine, ruthless yet so full of life and unnecessary drama. He was a short man with a charming personality that reminded me of my brother, Kostya. They had a lot in common, and whenever those two were in the same room, there was never a dull moment. Grey cursed a lot, but that was a mechanism to keep his stutter in check. At least that was the story, but I believed he just couldn't do without cursing.

He cracked a few jokes that made my wife laugh a little then leaned forward and whispered into my ear. "Protect this one at all costs." He withdrew from me and smiled at Sierra before leaving with his girls.

"I didn't know you had normal friends," she teased me.

"Trust me, there's nothing normal about Grey."

"Hmph. Seemed pretty normal to me," she insisted with a contagious smile.

Everything was going fine, and a couple of minutes later, I introduced my wife to my business associates. But while we spoke, time seemed to slow down as I spotted him in the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with some high rollers at a distance.

He jerked his head in my direction, and our eyes met. The last time we were both in the same event, people died. Not this time, though. My wife was present, so Niall Donovan better not try anything stupid.