30. Alfie
30
ALFIE
R olling onto my back, I pull Mika close to my side, holding her firmly against my body so I can feel every inch of her soft, warm, inviting flesh. I can feel her heart beating against my ribs, and a protective instinct surges through me. I would do anything for this woman. I would kill for her. I would die for her if that’s what it took, and after having the question of how far I would go for her put so definitively on the line, I know without a shadow of a doubt that I’m as much a captive to my feelings for Mika as she is.
I’ve never been so terrified of losing someone before. Seeing that gun held to Mika’s head broke something in me. If I hadn’t been so worried I might hurt her in the process, I would have killed Nikolai on the spot—mercilessly and without remorse. I would have said anything to save her life. I would have done anything, even if it meant choking the life out of that Russian bastard with my bare hands.
As soon as she was in my arms, my priorities shifted. All that mattered was making sure she was safe and alive. When she started to cry, I thought the sound might actually rip my heart from my chest and shred it. I have few regrets in life, but putting Mika in danger is at the very top of my list. If I were capable of letting her go, I might consider it—if that’s what it would take to protect her. But as fucked up as it might be, I know I’m the only one who can keep her safe now, and I wouldn’t trust anyone else with that responsibility.
Mika rests her cheek against my chest, her ear pressed to my shoulder, and I turn my head to kiss her soft curls before resting my head against hers.
“What are you going to do about the Russians?” she asks, her fingers tracing patterns across my pecs. Then she tips her head, resting her chin on the back of her hand as her palm covers my heart. She looks at me with those impossibly blue-green eyes, concern etched in the lines of her face. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing?”
Her questions echo my train of thought, but almost in a different key—like she’s just slightly out of tune with my thinking—and the hair prickles along the nape of my neck.
Narrowing my eyes at her, I consider what’s so off about her wording. “Are you trying to imply I should marry Ana Kapranov?” I ask suspiciously.
Mika bites her lower lip, pain, and sadness filling her captivating gaze, and my stomach knots as my heart stutters uncomfortably.
“It would stop the violence,” she says softly.
Combing my fingers into her tangled locks, I cradle Mika’s head with one palm, stroking her soft cheek with my thumb. “Marrying Ana wouldn’t solve anything—not in the long run. I knew it was risky making an alliance with the Russians in the first place, and it was selfish to go back on my word once I signed that contract.” It’s probably the most selfish decision I’ve ever made, and that’s something I’ll have to live with, because good men have lost their lives over it. “But it’s brought me clarity I wouldn’t have found otherwise until it was too late.”
Mika frowns, her golden brows buckling until a soft crease forms between them. “What do you mean?”
“In the long run, I could never work with Nikolai, not within the bounds of our original agreement.” I have no doubt he would have forced me into precarious situations where I would be expected to defend even his most rash decisions—and if this conflict has taught me anything, it’s that Nikolai is too quick to anger and far too willing to escalate things, even when he has the option to negotiate.
“You still think you can fix this?” Mika asks quietly.
“I’ll find a way to make things right,” I promise, because I’m not about to let her go. I’ve nearly lost Mika twice, and won’t let it happen again. I’ll kill every last Russian in New York if that’s what it takes to keep her safe. But I doubt it will come to that. I hope it won’t.
Waking with Mika wrapped in my arms might be the single best feeling in the world. I’m confident my attraction to her is turning into an addiction—one I don’t mind in the least. But the conflict I’ve started with the Kapranovs isn’t going to resolve itself, and it’s clear to me now that the longer it takes to fix this, the more Nikolai is going to escalate.
I’m dangerously torn between retaliating after the stunt he pulled yesterday or ending the violence before it turns into a full-blown war. He deserves to face the consequences of his rash actions—to know that I will crush anyone who dares to lay a finger on the woman I love—but in the end, I know teaching the Kapranovs a lesson will come at a great price for me and my men as well. I probably have the numbers to come out on top, but I have to own the fact that this all started because of me, because I lost my heart to a woman before I even knew what was happening. So, I’m the one who needs to make this right—if I can. That’s why I’ve decided it’s worth one last attempt to negotiate with Nikolai.
Rather than trying to open negotiations with the unpredictable pakhan directly, I send a message to Dominik instead. It’s a long shot, but I’ve learned a lot about the Russians over the last few weeks, and while Dominik is undoubtedly bloodthirsty and violent, at least I know that he prefers direct communication that leaves no room for misinterpretation. Still, I’m mildly shocked when I have an answer within hours of reaching out to him. He and his father have agreed to sit down with me to discuss the potential for renegotiations—or reparations, as the younger Kapranov called it. I’ll take what I can get, and the fact that they agreed to bring my former fiancée to the meeting gives me hope that we might just be able to walk away from the negotiating table without more bloodshed.
The atmosphere as the Russians enter my house is entirely different from what it was during their last visit—before I told them I wouldn’t be marrying Ana. Rather than his forced cordiality, Nikolai steps through the doorway with a rigid set to his jaw. His eyes remain narrowed with suspicion as tension rolls off of him in waves. Dominik’s expression is just as cold and unwelcoming as ever, and it’s almost refreshing to realize he has as little interest in this alliance now as he seemed to before—only his dislike of me seems to have grown. Ana steps across the threshold next. Once again, she’s dressed to perfection in a soft, feminine red wrap dress and matching heels. Not a hair is out of place, and her makeup accentuates the full pout of her lips and high cheekbones. It’s not lost on me that she would make any man a lucky husband, but I can’t wait to fall back in bed with my willful, fiery Mika. A full contingent of Russian guards follows her through the door, each burly and menacing as they scowl around the foyer, looking for threats.
“Welcome,” I say coolly, gesturing toward the hallway leading to my study. “I hope you don’t mind letting your men wait here. I’m not sure there’s enough room in my office for all of us.”
Nikolai smirks. “Of course,” he says dryly. He gives a command in Russian, and his men remain in the foyer as he stalks toward my office, Dominik and Ana right behind.
I get a moment of satisfaction as Nikolai hesitates at the door, surprise flashing across his features as he takes in the state of my office. It looks like nothing ever happened. The paintings are new, as is my desk, but the repairs were done within a day, and all that remains of the Molotov cocktails’ damage is a faint discoloration on the stone about the windows outside. Without a word of acknowledgment, the pakhan enters my office.
“Thank you for agreeing to sit down with me,” I say, closing the door behind us as Nikolai settles into one of the plush leather chairs. “You as well, Ana. I realize the position I’ve put you in is far from ideal.”
Ana perches primly at the edge of the couch, sitting next to her burly brother, who makes her look diminutive in comparison. The Russian heir apparent studies me with his usual level of menace, his blue eyes inscrutable as he remains stoically silent.
“You’re welcome,” Ana says, interlacing her fingers as she rests her hands in her lap.
Rather than taking the chair behind my desk, I sit in the one set at an angle to face my guests, and I cross my ankle over my knee, adopting a relaxed posture, though the tension building inside me is at its breaking point.
“To be honest, I didn’t expect such a… cordial invitation,” Nikolai observes dryly.
That wouldn’t be hard to guess, considering he brought a full contingent of guards with him, and when we left the foyer, they were all but squaring off against my men.
“Well, I understand that, in the heat of the moment, we all can make rash decisions,” I say pointedly.
I recognize that both he and I have made impulsive choices that have led us down this road. My biggest misstep was agreeing to marry Ana in the first place—I knew it was a risky choice, and I did it anyway. But nothing compares to the violent stunts he’s pulled since then, and I wonder if he’s objective enough to even see that. I’m confident that, even if he does, he won’t admit it—and while I would like nothing more than to force an apology from his lips right now, that’s not what this meeting is about.
“Does this mean you’re ready to make amends?” Nikolai asks, a smirk stretching across his lips.
“I’m ready to apologize for breaking our contract,” I state coolly, then I turn my attention to Ana. “I’m sorry if my actions hurt you in any way. It was not my intention.” I infuse my voice with sincerity, because out of everyone here, she is innocent in all this conflict.
That day at Saratoga, when I met her for the first time, I could see the hurt and fear in her eyes, hidden behind her vocal contempt. I didn’t like her calling attention to Mika then, but now, as she sits before me, it’s easy to see how young she is. She’s a grown woman—that’s easy to see in her sensual curves—and I know she’s in her early twenties. But something about her seems so sheltered and naive—unlike Mika, who carries herself with hardened determination because she’s probably taken more than her fair share of hard knocks in life.
“Any man would be lucky to have you as their bride,” I add to soften the sting of rejection. “But you’re right. I called off our wedding because I fell in love with someone else.”
Whatever Ana expected me to say, that was not it, and shock transforms her pouting expression into one of open surprise. Until now, I never would have anticipated I would say something like that, because love is such a weighty word. I never imagined I would love someone outside of my sister and my parents. But in the short time I’ve known Mika, she’s captivated me. She stole my heart without even trying, and I’m falling for her harder and faster than I thought possible.
I turn my attention back to Nikolai, meeting his eyes with an unwavering gaze.“I fully intend to make Mika my wife. That means she is under my protection, so if you intend to kill her, know that it will be an act of war. I know our negotiations took a wrong turn, and I can own up to the fact that I’m the one responsible. But as angry as you might be, I don’t think you want that kind of conflict any more than I do. Wars between families draw too much attention. They invite opportunities for upheaval and disunity in the ranks. That’s why I’m still willing to discuss terms if you are.”
Nikolai’s eyes flash with defiance, and my stomach sinks at the angry set of his jaw. He’s not ready to concede quite yet, which means the apology he demanded won’t be enough, and I wonder just how far I might have to go if I want to maintain a semblance of peace. How far I’m willing to go might be another matter, because while I’m willing to make some concessions, I won’t let him think he can make me look weak.
“Thank you for your heartfelt apology,” Ana cuts in, breaking the tension from our silent standoff. “Love is a powerful thing. I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of it—and I hardly want a man who’s in love with another woman. I would like to think I’m worthy of a husband who will put me first.”
Relief surges through me at the olive branch she’s extending, and my shoulders relax as I give her the subtlest of grateful smiles. But when I look back at her father, if anything, Nikolai looks more irritated than before.
“You had better marry her if you think I’m going to let this insult slide,” he states flatly.
“I will,” I say firmly. “In the meantime, I’m sure we can find some way to come to an agreement,” I insist, though I’m beginning to wonder if Nikolai might actually be more eager for a violent conflict than an alliance. Maybe, like me, he just doesn’t want to look weak, and my decision to break off the engagement does call his level of authority into question.
“Perhaps you’d be willing to part with a small portion of your territory. Maybe then we would be more amicable to the idea of letting this whole thing slide,” Dominik suggests, his voice laced with indifference—like it was just an errant thought.
But if territory is what will appease the Russians, I’m willing to part with some. That would be better than sacrificing my men’s lives because I fell in love with the wrong woman. “Alright then. I’ll give you the Upper East Side.” It’s a generous offer. The Upper East Side is one of my best single sources of income. But it’s not my main moneymaker, and it’s part of the territory that has common borders with the Russians, so I won’t have to cross paths with them any more than is necessary.
Dominik’s eyebrows, usually pressed into a deep frown, lift, his expression indicating he’s both surprised by the generosity of my offer and inclined to accept it. But his father’s expression says that’s not enough—that nothing will be—and before he opens his mouth, I know how this is going to end.
“You think a measly few blocks are going to fix this?” Nikolai growls, his meaty hands fisting. “The only way you can make this right is by standing by your word and marrying my daughter.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen,” I state calmly, but my senses are on high alert.
Something in the glint of the pakhan ’s eye tells me this isn’t just about setting things right. I’m not even sure this is about punishing me for breaking the betrothal contract anymore. There’s an underlying menace in his gaze—as if he’s seen this as an opportunity to start a larger conflict. My eyes flick to Dominik again as I wonder for the first time if the quiet, brooding heir isn’t actually responsible for steering his father toward a marriage alliance rather than a war. It feels almost ironic if the younger Kapranov would be the more sensible of the two, considering his reputation for violence. But right now, I get the distinct impression he’s open to the idea of cooperation while his father is only ramping up to his true motives for coming here.
“Then this meeting is over,” Nikolai states flatly.
“Father,” Ana whispers, the blood draining from her face.
Dominik’s sudden tension is my only forewarning, and I have a fraction of a second to react before the massive pakhan launches himself from his seat. He moves with surprising speed for someone of his size and age. I catch the glint of steel as he draws a knife, though the agreement was that we would leave our weapons at the door.
Good thing I knew better than to follow my own rules.
I rise from my chair, kicking it back in the same fluid movement, giving myself enough space to step out of his trajectory. At the same time, I slip my hand inside my suit jacket to withdraw my gun. Wood splinters as Nikolai launches my chair across the room in his rage, and he whirls to face me, his knife firm in his grasp as he raises his fists near his chin. Ana screams as he launches into another attack, and I bring the gun up, aiming it right between his eyes .
The room reverberates with the sound of the bullet leaving the chamber, and Nikolai hits the ground like a rock, his life snuffed out in a matter of seconds. For a moment, all I can hear is the ringing in my ears as I stand over his hulking body, blood and brain matter pooling at my feet. Then Dominik is on his feet. Pounding footsteps announce men approaching down the hall—no doubt a collection of Nikolai’s and mine coming to see what happened.
Without hesitation, I shift my aim to point the gun in Dominik’s direction.
“No, please!” Ana screams, her face growing impossibly whiter as she reaches out to me.
I pause, intrigued by her instinct to protect her brother. It makes me think about Nina—what it would do to her if she were to witness my death. “Do we have a deal?” I ask Dominik.
His eyes flick down to his father and then to the door that’s going to burst open at any second. “You’ll marry the girl?” he confirms.
“Yes,” I state firmly. Mika’s not going to like it, but if that’s what will get him to agree right now, then I’ll make her see why it has to be done.
“Good. Then my father found his hill to die on. Just know, I will be watching closely to ensure you do. We get the Upper East Side. And when we host a party to announce to New York society that we broke off the engagement, you will say nothing to contradict that. It would ruin Ana’s reputation if word got out that you rejected her.”
“Done,” I agree.
Dominik barely has time to give a single curt nod before the door splinters, and men from both families come flooding into the room.
“It’s done!” Dominik commands, his deep, booming voice making his men freeze as they raise their weapons. “The old man made a poor business decision, and it cost him his life. That’s the end of it.”
The air is thick with tension. My men stand prepared to react at the first sign that Dominik’s men won’t accept that as the conflict’s conclusion, but no one makes a move.
Then Dominik’s cold blue gaze shifts back to mine. “I’m taking my sister home.” Then looks back at his men. “Bring the body. ”
Without another word, the new pakhan steers his sister from the room. His men eye me with open distrust as four of them put away their weapons to lift Nikolai’s massive form. As the Russians depart, the iron grip around my chest starts to relax. It would seem we’ve established something of a tentative truce, and I release the breath burning in my lungs.