Chapter 2 -Benedikt

Anticipation and smugness lingered in the air alongside the mingling notes of perfume, booze, and desperation that moved through the club.

Nestled in the reserved section, I leaned back against the leather behind me as I gripped my whiskey, glancing between the twins in front of me. To my left, Ari’s gaze was just as measuring, heavy with contemplation despite his relaxed grin.

“We have to commend you and the others in your family,” Alina murmured as lowered her glass after taking a drawn-out sip. “This whiskey’s clean. You must have a reputable brewer.”

Amusement tugged at Ari’s lips, and he nodded slowly. “Now you’re flattering us, Alina.”

“Flattery or not, one can’t ignore the evidence of its success,” Adrik added from his twin's right. He rested an arm against the back of the seat he sat on with a cool, natural air about him, holding his glass with familiar comfort. “Your family has done well. The blueprint of success is there.”

Despite the ease of their words, it belied their hidden meaning—intentions they wouldn’t allow to rise to the surface. In all their smugness, there was something they wanted, whether they voiced it outright or not.

It wasn’t our first time around the block with the Ivanov twins. Much like us, they hailed from Russia, and those dark brown eyes of theirs were keen.

Even if they seemed almost out of place in the club given their more formal attire, in a sense, they had earned a place here from the force with which they commanded their territory. Their rise had been quick yet measured due to our watchful eyes.

We weren’t allies by any means, but they weren’t our enemies, either. At least, not yet.

“That blueprint was forged from determination and taking what we needed to reach the top. We became pioneers of our world, in a sense,” Ari began, somewhat relaxed but still guarded. “That being said, we have reached these heights for a reason, and we mean to maintain that legacy.”

“Maintain it indeed,” Alina said with a hum, legs crossed as the top one just barely bounced. With her long black hair slicked back into a high ponytail, her features seemed even sharper than usual. “One can’t let an empire like that fall due to negligence.”

“Negligence isn’t something we save room for.”

Her gaze landed on me for a moment with the faintest gleam in her eyes—something resembling a challenge. “Your forces are something to be revered. I’d imagine with numbers like those, that empire might feel impenetrable.”

“An empire that isn’t afraid to push back whenever necessary,” Ari cut in, allowing some of his performative niceties to fall away. “There’s a delicate balance between the top families in this city, as you know, and we’re not known for pulling our punches.”

Adrik breathed deeply, with a passive grin tugging on his lips. “You are among friends, Aristarkh. Or, at the very least, associates. You can give it to us frankly.”

I watched as my brother’s gaze focused on him, still calculating as he considered his words. With a sigh, he leaned forward, looking between them both. “I see. In that case, we’re aware you’ve been expanding your operations and vying for more ground, but this is a casual reminder to respect our turf. We fought for what we have, dominating smaller families and forming alliances to get there.”

The Ivanovs let those words hang in the air for a moment, listening as they seemed to calculate their next move. Alina’s eyes narrowed by an almost imperceptible fraction.

“We are not currently looking to make more enemies,” Ari continued, otherwise tame words undercut with a warning. “That being said, you can either respect our territory or expect to find yourselves in the company of many others. The choice is yours, but don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

Silence lingered between our two parties as they assessed us, as if pondering just how much depth his statements truly held.

Then, that almost defensive air slipped away, overtaken by complacency once more.

Alina tilted her head slightly with a cool smile. “Your warning is loud and clear, Levov.”

“We’ll keep the peace,” Adrik murmured, gaze still brimming with cockiness. “No need to rope us in with the others just yet.”

We both took them in, letting that assertion settle between us.

Of course, we weren’t ready to trust the other families so freely, especially not when their desire for expansion was crystal clear, but our message had been delivered nonetheless.

“A wise choice.”

A measure of skepticism lingered between us, but remaining steadfast in our promise to remain neutral unless provoked, the tension in the air retreated a measure as Adrik downed the rest of his whiskey and sighed. Alina seemed to ease somewhat as well.

An understanding apparently reached, the twins eventually left, and Ari got to his feet shortly after.

“That should do it for tonight, I’d say,” he uttered with a tone of finality as he exhaled.

I snickered. “What, not sticking around for the show?”

With our view finally uninterrupted by the Ivanovs, the dancers on stage were clear as day, and I was prepared to settle in for the time being.

Taking notice, Ari scoffed and straightened out his cuffs. “The wife’s waiting for me at home. I’m not prepared to be whipped into shape over some dancers.”

Chuckling at the new reality he lived, I shook my head. “Your loss.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, giving me a rare but brotherly push against my forehead as he passed by. “Whatever makes you feel better. Don’t get into any trouble, alright?”

“No promises.”

With a final amused smile, Ari saw his way out of the reserved section and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me to my usual show.

Lounging into the leather seat, I watched as the dancers did their thing, surrounded by other men with the same idea as myself. Despite their usual allure, the longer my gaze remained on them, the more I found my mind drifting to another place.

The wife’s waiting for me.

Ari’s words seemed to attach themselves to me, and I just couldn’t shake them.

Even as the women in front of me swayed their hips, beacons of seduction and temptation, I wanted more than that. I wanted a wife—not just some temporary distraction.

I had been saying it for quite some time, even if it had mostly been in jest, either by me or my brothers during their teasing. Yet, I wouldn’t accept just anyone. No, that wouldn’t work for me.

Growing bored, I let go of a deep breath as one of the dancers who frequented the floor came over, flashing a sensual smile at me. She was mostly naked and beautiful, and while that normally would’ve done it for me, in that moment, I couldn’t care less.

“In need of a private show, Benedikt?” she asked, eyelashes heavy with the usual lust in her eyes.

Sighing, I shook my head and stood, brushing her off. “Nah, not tonight. I’m heading out.”

A brief flicker of disappointment moved across her face then, only for her to shrug with nonchalance. “Your loss.”

Given who frequented the place, I knew I’d never find a suitable wife in one of our clubs. While more dignified than many others in the city, it still wasn’t an ideal place to find loyalty amongst the lust and unbridled desires.

Not caring, I left the reserved section and started making my way through the club, suddenly aggravated by the loud music and flashing lights when my phone vibrated in my pocket. Fishing it out, I scanned the screen with a slight furrow of my brow.

It was a text from one of our bouncers citing someone was hoping to speak with one of us. Somewhat annoyed by the idea, I knew I was the last one at the club, and I would have to be the one to see them.

Letting out a scoff, I shoved my phone back in my pocket and made my way through the crowd until I reached the front, forgetting all about my escapades for the night as my interest faded with the bleak reality of likely never finding someone suitable.

But the moment I spotted a woman standing somewhat stiffly off to the side and dressed in attire that was far too neat and suitable for an office to be seen in any club, my brows lifted, and I found myself pausing to fully take her in.

There was no doubting her beauty as it struck me at once. She looked young yet sharp, with black hair reaching just beneath her chin that perfectly complemented her striking green eyes. Those full, healthy cheeks were lightly dusted with a faint blush, and everything about her seemed so perfectly feminine.

Even more intriguing, she had a small nose piercing that seemed to contrast the formality of her business casual attire. It caught my attention immediately, along with the black pencil skirt that hugged her full, plump curves and the professional blouse that offered a glimpse of her cleavage.

While I had no idea who she was or what she wanted, I found myself more intrigued than I could’ve anticipated.

Given her attire and the focus on her face, veiled by her slight discomfort of being in the club, I knew she had to be the one asking for me. Interest piqued, I didn’t mind the thought one bit. I admired a keen and ambitious working woman, after all.

Closing the space between us, I met her gaze with a cool air about me, offering her a nod of acknowledgment. “How can I help you?”

The woman brightened at my addressing her, followed by a flash of discomposure that amused me before she straightened herself out and cleared her throat. “I’m Gemma Tyler, and I’m a journalist for a local paper.”

I cocked a brow at that, realizing how fitting the profession seemed given her appearance and the unshakeable determination of a story-chaser in her eyes. “A journalist, hm?” I held a hand out for her with a slight grin, laced with a veiled tease. “I’m Benedikt Levov, but you can call me Ben. What can I do for you then, Miss Tyler?”

Blinking through the barely visible fluster, she pulled a curt smile and shook my hand. Gemma swallowed hard as she gestured with a folio she held once our connected hands released that brief contact. “I’ve written an article concerning your family, and I was hoping to get a word from you before it goes live. Do you have a moment?”

Interest completely captured then, noting how press could be a matter of making or breaking business and our reputation, I gave her a simple nod. “Sure. We’ll go somewhere quieter,” I suggested, gesturing for her to follow. “Come along, then.”

With another pressed smile, Gemma did exactly that, weaving through the crowd of aimless dancers, looking straight ahead when I glanced back at her to make sure she was still there. I couldn’t help but chuckle at how out of place she seemed, yet the very idea was endearing, somehow. I enjoyed watching the way her full hips and her voluptuous body moved with her every step as my imagination played with that idea.

Eventually, we slipped into a private room—one used for business whenever necessary. I pointed vaguely at the chair across from mine as I took my seat. “Go ahead. Make yourself at home.”

The eager journalist took her seat as she opened the folio and pulled out a printed copy of the apparent article before she slid it over to me. “Given the subject matter, I figured I’d give you and your family a chance to say your piece. To go over it before it’s released to the public.”

I gave her an absent nod as I picked it up. Scanning line by line, it didn’t take long for me to realize exactly why this meeting was important.

Clearer than anything else, her intel was damning. Cut and dry, it was the last thing my family needed to get out. Recent murders and disappearances were mentioned, all gone unchecked or not investigated as thoroughly as the public would appreciate. Our name, linked as an alleged cause, should not under any circumstances be anywhere near her story or its damaging claims.

While she was exactly correct, linking us to other names once buried or forgotten about—Carter, Ricci, Gusev, Capris, and even De Luca—there was no chance in hell I could allow her to follow through with it.

We had recently launched our newest cover-up, luxury Levov vodka, and for it to be both successful in concealing our true business in the city and supplementing our wealth to boot, there was no room for distrust among our patrons. If her article were to be published, public opinion of us would be swayed with a hard pivot. I couldn’t risk it.

Ari and Andrei would have my head if I let her slip between my fingers.

After a considerable stretch of silence, I let out a decided breath and placed the printout back onto the table, tapping it absently a few times for good measure. “Gemma, you said?”

With a blink back at me, the young woman nodded simply, awaiting my verdict and reception with anticipation in her seat.

“I’m going to lay it all out as frankly as I can, Gemma,” I began, maintaining that unwavering gaze with her. With a sigh, I pointed to the paper. “This article cannot, under any circumstances, come out. I cannot and will not allow the Levov name to be connected to that story. That being said, I’m going to present you with a choice.”

I watched as dread and unfettered shock flashed on Gemma’s features, surely not expecting that shift in tone from me.

Even if she resembled a terrified rabbit then, bracing herself for my next words, I couldn’t deny how everything about her pulled me in. How her striking beauty managed to have some sway in my decision.

Allowing the tension to linger between us, I tilted my head slightly as I took her in, analyzing her both as a man with a legacy and family to protect, as well as one brimming with interest and selfish desires.

“You can either marry me and drop the article like it never happened, or you disappear without a trace, and so will this story.”

Not a word came from her for a moment as silence settled over the room, charged with immediate fear and hesitancy from Gemma. The strain in her was palpable, even if she tried to remain guarded while she processed the options I laid out before her.

A light blush overcame her plump cheeks as her eyes gleamed with fear.

There was no doubt she realized that my conditions were a trap, and she was the helpless, losing bunny ensnared within it.