Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
My mind was still upstairs with her, imagining her stripping off that dress, sliding naked between the sheets.
Pavel's voice was on the other end. His tone was emotionless, professional. That was never a good sign. "We have a problem."
CHAPTER 24
ARTEM
"What happened?" I asked, cold and direct as I stormed into Gregor's home office.
Kostya and Pavel were already there, faces tense and arms crossed, staring down at Mikhail and Damien. They looked as pissed off as I felt.
Gregor himself sat in a large wingback leather chair, staring into the fireplace. The red and orange flames cast eerie shadows over his face that were probably very useful when he was trying to intimidate a rival, or even a subordinate who fucked up.
I wasn't a rival; I was family.
My father taught me the same dramatic methods. I also wasn't the one who fucked up, so his little intimidation tricks were fucking useless.
"Solovyov," Gregor answered, his focus staying on the dancing flames in front of him.
"I know Solovyov." I rolled my eyes, not giving a fuck about the sign of disrespect. If there were more than just family here, it would have been different... probably. "What did that motherfucker do now?"
Different ideas and scenarios all flowed through my head. Did he turn someone important to his side? Did he actually kill a congressman or a senator, ruining some lucrative government contract?
Clearly whatever he was up to had made an impact, but I needed to know what the fuck that impact was before I could deal with it. It must have been dire to call me away from Viktoria. I had given strict orders not to be disturbed all night. If the evening had gone to plan, I would've been balls deep in my little princess when the phone rang for this urgent meeting.
The night may not have gone as planned, but Gregor didn't need to know that. Neither did my brothers.
Everyone was silent for another moment, the tension growing thick. Which meant it was bad enough that the others felt it was up to Gregor to tell me, and he was pausing for dramatic flair.
Jesus, next he'd be playing Russian roulette with an unloaded gun again.
"What was so important I had to drop everything?" I said. What little patience I had evaporated.
"He hired a team that we had a contract with."
"Okay..." I said, not understanding why that was so shocking I had to race over here.
We rarely used independent contractors, preferring to keep most business within the family. Even when we hired them, none of our contractors handled the larger, or important, tasks.
Protecting our women, protecting the estate, even the team that ran the drug shipments and the lawyers that handled our business interests were, if not family, close enough. They were part of our crew. Not independent contractors.
We didn't even hire out for security or chauffeurs. Every man who worked for us was related to us by blood, by marriage, or had been with us for decades. It was how we kept our men so loyal.
Independent contractors just filled in spaces when we needed them to. They were, by definition and design, replaceable.
Then it hit me.
"The guns," I said as the realization sank in.
"The guns," Gregor repeated, getting to his feet and walking toward me in his deceptively calm way.
Once again, he was being dramatic, acting calm and controlled so I wouldn't expect the anger.
"Tell me cousin, exactly how do you intend to fix this?"
"Excuse me?" I stood my ground, refusing to let him intimidate me. "The guns were on you."
"You insisted you be the one to handle Solovyov. Over and over we heard how it was your responsibility because your brother brought him to my side of the ocean."
"Gregor—" I warned as he got closer, his hand lifted like he was going to poke me to punctuate each and every point.
If he so much as thought about touching me, we were going to have a problem. Family or not.
"No," Gregor yelled, getting in my face but putting his hand down. "You made a big show about how your brother brought that monster to my shores, so you were going to handle it. Said over and over it was for the good of the family because he was just going to be a problem back in Moscow, anyway. You made the case over and over for how you were going to deal with it, like we all didn't know that you were trying to make a play for my territory."
"Gregor," I warned again, stepping closer to him.
We were eye to eye, chest to chest. It was a tactic that kept the tension high but stopped it from coming to blows. Neither of us could have thrown an effective punch this close. We would have had to step back and that would have signaled the imminent hit, giving the other person time to block or counter.