55. Radimir

55

RADIMIR

Shit. I saw Bronwyn redden and she looked at the floor as if she wanted to drop right through it. My face heated, too: this wasn’t how I’d imagined us meeting. I took Bronwyn’s hand, straightened up and turned around. “Konstantin,” I said politely, looking him right in the eye.

He stared at me, inscrutable for a moment. The people around us had gone silent, peasants in the presence of the king. Even in just a pair of boxer shorts, the raw power rolled off the man. Then he inclined his head in a tiny nod and a smile tugged at his lips. Apparently, my lack of embarrassment had impressed him.

“We need to talk to you,” I began.

Konstantin frowned in confusion. “You came here to…” His frown turned into a full-on scowl. “Maybe things are different in Chicago. But in New York, we don’t do business in a place like this.” He took his girlfriend’s hand, turned and started to walk away.

“We didn’t have a choice,” I said, marching after him. “Everyone’s cut us off.”

“You broke one of The Eight’s truces,” snapped Konstantin without turning around. “What did you expect to happen?”

Desperate, I grabbed his arm and spun him around. But something went wrong: Konstantin’s face twisted in sudden pain, and he staggered, clutching at his arm. Shit! Apparently he had an old injury there. I quickly released him. “Sorry. We need your help.”

But the damage was done: Konstantin had been riled but now he was furious. “You come into my city,” Konstantin told us coldly. “Interrupt my time with the woman I love,” he squeezed his girlfriend’s hand. “All to ask for help you know I couldn’t give you if I wanted to. And I’m not inclined to want to!”

The guilt and frustration that had been building inside me for weeks, ever since I messed up Borislav’s killing, finally broke free. My family was going to be killed, our empire wiped out, Bronwyn was in danger, and it was all my fault! Our only chance of putting things right lay in this man, and he was refusing to help?—

I stepped forward, my fists coming up. Konstantin stepped protectively in front of his girlfriend and raised his hands, too?—

Bronwyn jumped between us and put a hand on each of our bare, heaving chests. “Stop! Just stop!” She looked at Konstantin, panting. “Mr. Gulyev, there are things you don’t know. We didn’t break the truce. We were tricked into killing Spartak’s brother. Someone deepfaked a phone call from The Eight, to make us think it was them!”

But Konstantin just glared and pushed her aside to get to me. That made me growl protectively and muscle my way forward again. Bronwyn put both hands on my chest in an effort to hold me back. But now Konstantin was storming forward, fists raised?—

Konstantin’s girlfriend, looking stunning in black corset, black stockings and a black leather collar, squeezed between us and put her hands on Konstantin’s chest. “Both of you just calm down!” She spoke into Konstantin’s ear. “Someone deepfaking phone calls? That’s new. Dangerous. We should at least listen.”

Konstantin glared at me...but then he glanced at his girlfriend and the aggression seemed to go out of him. His eyes softened. “ Chyort ,” he cursed. And, reluctantly, he stepped back. Bronwyn pressed on my chest and I stepped back, too, and Konstantin and I looked at each other, scowling but subdued.

“Sorry,” I muttered, pointing to Konstantin’s arm. Konstantin grunted but nodded.

I took a deep breath and Bronwyn and I explained what had happened. How we were losing the war with Spartak. How we needed help. “We have an offer we’d like to make you,” Bronwyn said.

Konstantin glowered at us for a long, stomach-clenching moment. Then: “Very well. Come to my house tomorrow morning at nine.” And he gave us the address. “Now go.” He turned to his girlfriend, hooked his finger in the silver ring that dangled from her collar and pulled her closer. His eyes narrowed and he gave her a look of such melting lust that I saw her swallow and flush. “You two have already had your fun. Now we need to have ours.” And they walked away.

I let out a long breath. Then I put my hands on Bronwyn’s shoulders and gently turned her to face me. I gazed down at her, slowly shaking my head in amazement. “What?” she asked, worried.

“I’m trying to work out what I did, before you were my wife,” I told her. I cupped her face and ran my thumb lovingly along her cheekbone. “You are… ”

“Acceptable? ” she interrupted, in a bad Russian accent.

I pouted. “ Exceptional,” I told her. And I leaned down and kissed her, softly and tenderly. She’d changed so much… God, just weeks ago, she’d hated the Bratva. Now she was helping me save my empire. She was exactly the woman I needed at my side.

I took her hand and squeezed it and the swell of emotion made it impossible to speak. I wanted this marriage to work. Wanted it more than I’d ever wanted anything. I owed her the truth about my past, I had to... open up, like the Americans always talk about. But Vladivostok was a place I only went to in my nightmares. I wasn’t sure I could tell her.

“Let’s get out of here,” I managed, and led her towards the stairs.

As we descended, I saw Bronwyn give a worried glance over her shoulder to where we’d last seen Konstantin. I understood her nerves. We’d gotten our meeting, but tomorrow, we had to convince Konstantin that her plan would work.