Page 4 of Diamond Don

I have never been afraid of a challenge, either. In fact, it would be a rather welcome change from the wide-eyed, yes-sir girls I meet too often nowadays.

Truthfully, ever since the Forbes 400 list was published a few months ago, I have grown increasingly bored with the women who approach me. It’s been too long since I’ve come across one so refreshingly uninterested in me.

It doesn’t hurt that her eyes seem to glitter more than the Flame of Mir under the dim luminescence of the crystal chandeliers. Are they dark brown or deep blue? I can’t tell from this far away.

Before the night ends, this breathtaking woman will be in my arms.

Any other outcome is unthinkable.

I lean against the wall, enjoying my drink and relaxing for a moment. Soon, the director will end his monologue, and I will get to make my move.

I only half-listen as the man almost reverently describes everything he believes makes my most prized possession, the Flame of Mir, so unique and precious.

The director has his facts right, at least. The Flame of Mir is indeed the largest red diamond ever found, and those are the rarest of all diamonds. But he doesn’t know any of the things that make it truly special.

He doesn’t know, for example, that I extricated it from the ground myself a long time ago.

The man also could never comprehend what the discovery meant for me back then or how it altered the course of my life.

He doesn’t understand that I almost certainly wouldn’t be a multibillionaire or the pakhan of the Russian bratva if I hadn’t found the massive blood-red gem in the Siberian Mir mine.

Just like my identity as the owner of the Flame of Mir, these are secrets I only share with a selected few. It’s how I like to handle my affairs. Many years ago, I learned that all information is worth its weight in gold and that very few people deserve my trust. I am as careful with it as I am with the safety of my diamond.

It occurs to me that I know nothing about this beautiful stranger who has thoroughly captivated me tonight. This is an unsettling realization, to say the least, since I personally vetted everyone in attendance this evening.

Well, not exactly personally. I have people for that, of course.

However, I inspected the guest list, reviewing dossiers on all guests of interest and on anyone whose name was unfamiliar. If it had included her name or face, I would remember.

I can’t say I’m surprised to find party-crashers among us tonight. It is, after all, par for the course with such a highly anticipated, star-studded event. The Flame of Mir has always been the subject of great curiosity.

Of course, with a face befitting an angel—and a body made for sin—this woman had no trouble sweet-talking the security guards posted outside into letting her sneak in to enjoy the festivities.

I force myself to stop gazing at the object of my sudden fascination for a second to search the room for a specific someone.

A moment later, I spot Dmitri Ivashkov, my favorite shestyorka, leaning against an adorned Corinthian column in a darkened corner.

I tasked him with investigating tonight’s guest list and bringing anything or anyone even remotely worthy of a second look to my attention.

As the leader of the Russian bratva and the somewhat anonymous owner of the world’s most valuable diamond, I had to ensure that none of the guests were a threat to the gemstone or my organization.

Dmitri finally realizes I’m glancing his way. Aware of my silent command, he walks over to me.

With amusement, I watch as women, young and old, discreetly—or not so discreetly—notice the young man. As usual, Dmitri is unaware of the attention he effortlessly attracts from the fairer sex. Tall and athletic, he cuts a striking figure in his tuxedo, even when he won’t stop fidgeting with his longish hair.

As misplaced as it might be, I’m often struck by how proud I am of the remarkable man he has become. For many unfortunate reasons, I am one of the few who have been around enough to see him grow up. His mother—God rest her soul—would be proud of him, too.

Once Dmitri reaches my side, he smirks at me, cockily raising an eyebrow as if asking, you called?

Such petulance would land anyone else in my bratva into considerable trouble, but I let him get away with a lot—perhaps too much.

Still, even within the bratva, a lot can be forgiven when it comes to someone with so much promise. As I learned once he became my employee, Dmitri has an almost unparalleled ability to get shit done. I have never met anyone so obsessively single-minded. You can’t lose people like that. No matter the cost, you retain that kind of talent.

“Do you see the brunette in the black dress next to my diamond?” I ask.

“You bet I do. How could anyone miss her? And before you ask, Nik—I don’t know who she is. She isn’t on the guest list. I checked. One of the museum’s security guards must’ve let her in here.”

“I figured as much.”

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