Page 47 of Sexting the Silverfox

Audrey

I’m taken to a hotel in the heart of the city. It’s a five-star residential palace with the kind of security that could give the White House a run for its money. Granted, my father came here with what I assume is half of his Fedorov fleet, so the whole place looks extra tight.

Anton says they’ve occupied a third of the hotel’s rooms with their people. They’re stationed on every floor of the building, and they’ve got armed guards working alongside the hotel’s own security. The managers couldn’t object if they wanted to.

They know who my father is. Fedorov money holds considerable sway in any city.

I am scared out of my mind and virtually helpless, but I’ve stopped fighting them. The more I object, the tighter my leash is going to be. My blood boils as my father has me escorted all the way up to the presidential suite.

Once we’re inside, he stations four men outside my door while Anton double-checks the entire room for any wires or listening devices.

Sitting in a chair by the window, I watch my father as he stands in the middle of the lounge area, his cold eyes scanning me from head to toe. “You’re looking good,” he says. “The Chicago air seems to suit you.”

“Then why take me away?” I shoot back.

“My lovely zaika, you belong with your family until you are married. I’m simply fixing the broken timeline here.”

“I belong where I decide I belong.”

Anton sighs as he joins us. “Sister, for once in your life, just shut up and listen to the old man. He’s trying to talk some sense into you.”

He’s back under our father’s boot; that much is obvious. Anton has always had a slight rebellious streak to him, though he never stepped out of line. I bet his coming to Chicago on his own really riled up the old man.

I can tell from the look on my brother’s face that he’s in hot water and trying his hardest to make amends. He’s in an impossible situation, and it’s difficult for me to hold it against him since I know our father just as well. I understand what the old man is capable of doing to get his way.

“So, what? You’re just going to drag me back to New York?” I scoff and cross my arms in a rebellious fashion.

“If I have to, yes,” my father says. “Though I’m hoping you’ll come of your own volition.”

“Never. Chicago is my home. It’s been my home for two years now. It’s not my fault that you can’t beat back the Abramovics on your own,” I reply bluntly.

Anton shakes his head. “I swear, Audrey, you sure love digging your own grave.”

“It’s the truth. If they were really fearful of our father, they never would’ve come after me the way they did.”

“Unfortunately, my little zaika, he does have a point. Fortunately, I have a way of fixing that,” Papa says.

The past couple of years have not been kind to him. Whether he’s hiding some illness or simply aging at an alarmingly faster rate, Grigori Fedorov doesn’t look as spry as he used to.

He’s still tall and broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed, not a hair out of place, but his face is thinner, the shadows under his eyes have gotten darker, and he seems to have lost some weight.

“What are you talking about?” Anton asks him, somewhat confused. “I thought you only came here to take Audrey home.”

“Oh, no,” Papa chuckles lightly. “I need to do my rounds while I’m here. Chicago needs to be reminded of their place.”

“You can’t start a war with the Abramovic Bratva,” my brother mumbles.

Papa gives him a sour look. “Do I look foolish to you?”

“He wants a show,” I cut in. “He wants as many Bratva lieutenants as possible to see him parading around Chicago without a care in the world, flaunting his wealth and confidence, proving that he is still the top guy in New York like a peacock trying to impress the peahens.”

“More like a lion displaying his mane,” my father chuckles dryly.

“You’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” I ask.

“Of course. I’ve got my family back together, and I’m about to remind those Abramovic monkeys that I’m not to be trifled with,” he says. “And once you’re back in New York, and enough time has passed, you will understand, my little zaika, that everything I ever did was for the sake of this family.”

Oddly, he refers to himself as a lion while he calls me his “little rabbit.” It kind of goes against everything he says about protecting our family when I’m the prey or, even better, the bait he’s using to prove a point. “So, you’re going to marry me off to Piotr like nothing happened,” I reply. “Anton told me the old geezer put a price on my head.”

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