Chapter 50

Chapter

Fifty

"Alcohol may be man's worst enemy, but the bible says love your enemy."

― Frank Sinatra

Present time.

Alexsei

"I'm sure I can make you happy, if you know what I mean," the girl winked, her hands sliding provocatively down to her chest.

"Oh, really?" I raised a brow. "How about makin' me happy by gettin' the fuck out of my face? Can you do that?"

Her mouth dropped open in shock before she snatched my drink from my hand, storming off with a curse under her breath. Her hips swayed as she headed for the bar.

The servers here were always so damn rude.

"You need to get laid, man," Angelos sighed, taking a swig of his beer. "You've been pissing everyone off with your childish behavior today."

I shot him a glare.

He nodded toward a blonde sitting a couple of tables away. "That one's been eyeing you since we got here. Take the bait, screw her, and get this rage out of your system. You're ruining my night."

"I don't need?—"

"Caia left you almost two years ago. You gotta move on, Romaniev," Angelos cut in, his tone serious.

I clenched my jaw, the bitter taste of regret burning as I downed the rest of my vodka in one gulp. "I'll never fucking move on."

And that pissed me off more than anything because he was right. Two years since Caia, and my existence has been reduced to wandering around like a damn ghost with nowhere to go. Feels like I've been sinking for months, so deep even my shadow shines brighter than me.

I've doubted a lot of things in my life, but never Caia and me. We were endgame. I could feel it in my bones. I'd sacrifice my sanity just to have her back. Hell, maybe I already have, considering how I spend every night drowning my sorrows in this place. Angelos joins me sometimes after work, but I always end up lashing out at him. Yet, he sticks around, that pity in his eyes—a look I want to rip out of him.

Asshole.

"Volk is coming with Sofiya to our next exhibition," Angelos muttered, his eyes scanning the club. "You should come too. "

After Caia left, I spent weeks shut up in our condo, torturing myself with every picture, every piece of clothing that still carried their scent. I've written her letters—so many letters—hoping one day I could give them to her. But some dreams just don't come true.

My depression got so bad that Volk had to drag me out into the daylight. But then, like the fool I am, I fell for Vlad's bullshit. I betrayed Volk, Igor, the Silas—all of them—chasing down a lead on who killed my son. But Vlad was just using me to mess with Igor, to hurt him.

And I fell for it like a complete idiot.

That's why I made the move to New York. Needed a change of scenery and knowing Caia was here… well, that was enough. Angelos had called one night, telling me he'd seen her, alone at some restaurant.

The next day, I hopped on a plane, crashing at Scarlett's for a couple of nights before getting my own place overlooking Central Park. I spent three relentless days searching every corner of the city for Caia, trying to figure out what she was up to.

And when I found out… it broke me even more. Twisted the knife in deeper.

Everything hurts too fucking much.

I'll never forgive myself for betraying the Silas, especially knowing that Igor died because of Vlad too. But one man's poison is another's meat. Volk's running the Silas now. He even married Sofiya Melov—who was supposed to be Igor and Victoria's lost daughter but turned out to be Vlad's kid.

Ah, the joys of family drama.

Long story short, Volk flew to San Francisco to snatch the girl and bring her back to Moscow. Then he found out Vlad used to screw Igor's wife and knocked her up. Vlad's mistress vanished with the kid, but despite all of that, Volk became obsessed with her.

Now he's head-over-heels and married to her. Who needs soap operas when their lives are a circus?

At least Volk got his happy ending. Good for him, I guess.

"Nah, I'm good. Got some business to deal with," I shrugged. "And I need to find a new bodyguard for Scarlett. The last one quit after she slapped him for flushing her stash down the toilet."

Feeling like I was teetering on the edge of madness, I reluctantly agreed to Scarlett's offer to manage her career. It wasn't about the money—I've got enough to retire three times over thanks to my ex-Silas status—but I needed a distraction. Something to take my mind off this mess.

Turns out the entertainment industry is its own kind of hell. People trading their souls just to be a part of it… I still can't wrap my head around it.

Angelos shook his head, scratching his beard. "That's her fourth bodyguard in three months."

I sighed. "She's pushing me to my limits. Rehab's starting to look like the only option."

"If we send her there, she won't make it," Angelos said, standing up. "She needs people, not some sterile clinic."

I nodded, my eyes wandering around the room until they landed on a face I recognized all too well—one I knew would send Angelo into a rage spiral faster than a cat in a bathtub.

A smirk tugged at my lips. "Well, look who's at the bar."

Angelo's face darkened as his gaze landed on his arch-nemesis.

Jade Whitenhouse.

Jade, the COO of Lazzio & Co, which just so happens to be owned by none other than Angelos Lazzio himself.

Saying they hate each other is putting it lightly .

Jade was everything Angelo couldn't stand—tall, with curves for days, long black hair, dark eyes, and skin so pale she looked like a ghost. He usually went for petite blondes with blue eyes or girls with a sun-kissed glow. Angelo once joked that she looked like a sex doll, but it was clear he had more than just a passing interest in her. Still, his hatred for her totally outweighed any attraction.

I never bothered to ask why he hated her so much, but something definitely smelled fishy. Whatever dirt she has on him must be serious because he lets her get away with murder. She can do or say whatever she wants, while anyone else would've been kicked to the curb—or worse, six feet under by now.

As we watched, Jade pressed her hips against the bar, her mini leather skirt barely covering her ass. Her off-shoulder top hugged her chest, and her thigh-high boots made her legs look even longer. She scanned the room until her eyes landed on Angelo.

She shot him a look of annoyance before grabbing the guy next to her and pulling him in for a hot and heavy kiss, all while giving Angelo the finger.

"Damn," I chuckled. "She really hates you."

"She's got some serious issues," Angelo grumbled, his voice dripping with anger. "And she's so disrespectful, making out like that right in front of me. It's disgusting. I should?—"

I cut him off by standing up. "You're not gonna do shit, as usual. She's got you on a leash like a stray puppy."

Angelo shot me a hard look but stayed quiet.

I smirked and leaned in closer to him. "Hey, at least we know who's in charge here. Hint: it's not you, buddy."

Angelo's face went red with anger, and he muttered a bunch of curses under his breath. Without saying another word, he stormed past me .

I followed, trying not to laugh as we headed for the door. Angelo stopped next to Jade, but she was still deep in a French kiss with the guy, his hands all over her ass while she went at it.

He cleared his throat loudly. "Miss Whitenhouse, I need you in my office first thing tomorrow. If you're late, you're fired."

Jade, barely looking up from her make-out session, gave him a cheeky thumbs-up with one eye half-open.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud.

Angelo's anger was pretty obvious, his jaw clenched tight. " Perfect. "

With that, he turned and stormed out, not even bothering to wait for me.