54. Max

Sasha seems distracted. He's barely said a word since we made our excuses and left. Vlad disappeared after filling me in on his father and the shit he's dealing with. Gotta say, the guy is nothing like Zoltan. Which is a good thing. The old man is lucky his son has held things together while he's been inside.

Not that Zolton is in a position to step back into the driving seat now he's back. The fucker has cancer, apparently, and it's taking him down fast. It's no wonder he dragged his sorry ass to the gala the other night. He probably figured it would be the last chance he had to see me in person.

Boo hoo.

Forgive me for not showing an ounce of sympathy for that old bastard. Like my father was, he's old school. Which was why he ended up in prison. The idiot thought it was a good idea to keep ledgers of his cash flow. Actual ledgers. Stuffed in a desk drawer.

Jesus.

"Vlad's dealing with a ton of shit," I remark. Sasha barely reacted when I mentioned Vlad was at the party, or when I told him Zoltan was at death's door, waiting for an invite down to Hell.

"I told Vlad I'm not marrying his sister," I continue.

"Of course you're not," he snaps.

I swivel my head sideways. There's something he's not saying. I know his little excursion to Stockton's office went off without a hitch, so what's his beef? Surely he's not pissed that he didn't get laid?

So Cecelia was a done deal, but even he's not stupid enough to fuck Stockton's wife in his own fucking house.

OK, maybe I did once, but the fucker wasn't there at the time. Totally different.

"You sound very certain about that?"

He shifts in his chair. "I met Zaria. I'm guessing she ran away from the dinner table once she realized who she was sitting next to."

He's right. The minute she heard my name, she shot off like the hounds of Hell were on her ass. Vlad was pissed as fuck about it but he stuck around long enough to fill me in on what's happening with his father and the bratva. From the scowl on his face as I left, the girl is in big trouble.

Not that I was offended by her attitude.

It's actually a relief to know she's not expecting a wedding anytime soon.

"Yeah. She didn't seem enthused to meet me." I chuckle lightly. "It's fine, he knows I'm not marrying her, but I have agreed to lend him our support. The guy is under pressure from Uriov to hand over his territory now Zoltan is dying. Uriov thinks Vlad isn't strong enough to hold the bratva together and he's trying to take advantage."

"Is he weak?" It's a fair assumption. Vlad is only in his early 20s. He doesn't have our experience.

"Not weak, no, but his father's been inside for a good few years now. The old fucker refused to hand over control, so Vlad hasn't been allowed to do things his way. Instead, he's had Zoltan in his ear the whole time, overruling decisions and undermining him at every turn."

"Sounds like your old man." He's not wrong. My father ruled with an iron fist. If he hadn't have been been killed, he would still be in charge and I'd be in a similar role to Vlad.

Thank fuck he's not still in charge. Not that I hated him. I mourned him when he died, like we all did. But my father wasn't an easy man to love and taking over the Bratva when I did gave me the freedom I needed to make it my own.

Better. Stronger.

"We need to make a stand against Uriov."

I nod. Sasha is right. Uriov is getting too cocky. I'm almost certain he's behind the shit we're dealing with, even if I don't have proof yet.

"We do - and we will. I'm not willing to wage war without proof he's pulling the strings though. I've already lost good men." I drive the SUV down into the underground parking garage beneath my building. The night guard nods as we pass him. "We have another shipment due at the end of the week. Double security around the docks and see if you can find any intel about what Uriov is up to. Let's see what happens."

My apartment is dark and silent when I walk in, moonlight spilling through the glass wall overlooking the terrace. Usually, I enjoy the quiet at night. It's a chance to think without interruption from people needing something from me. But tonight it feels… empty.

I told Natalya I had to work. Last I checked, she was staying at her apartment. She's been distant again the last couple of days. I haven't heard from her all evening but when I check my phone, she sent me a message to say she was going to bed.

That was a couple of hours ago so I don't bother calling her. Instead, I log into the security app and view the cameras in her apartment.

Sasha says I'm a creepy stalker. He's well aware how often I check the cameras when Natalya's at home.

As far as I'm concerned, I'm not stalking her, I'm checking up on her. A totally different thing. And justified given recent events.

The bedroom camera shows an empty bed. Where is she? I quickly cycle through the other cameras until I spot her curled up on the sofa under a quilt. Why isn't she sleeping in her bedroom?

Then it dawns on me. She's afraid, even though there's no trace of red paint and the bed is brand-new, she's fucking scared.

I clench my fist and fight the anger threatening to overwhelm me. Once I find out who did this, I will fucking tear them limb from limb with my bare hands. Natalya does not deserve to be frightened in her own apartment. No woman does.

As I watch my malyshka, she moves restlessly. The camera picks up a faint whimper and I growl.

That's it. I can't stay here while she's so scared she's sleeping on an old sofa. I've been in her apartment. I know exactly how fucking uncomfortable that thing is. My malyshka should be sleeping in a bed. With me.

Decision made, I set the alarm and go back downstairs to the parking garage.