Page 4 of Trapping His Assassin

Now I was tasked with infiltrating and creating peace between two factions. On any other occasion, I would relish the opportunity to solidify an alliance, but not now. Not like this. The Don’s crazed actions were told amongst the men. Peace was a fleeting ideology when met with psychopathic tendencies.

The man was quite ruthless.

I signed “no,” indicating my lack of interest in marriage or progeny. I added that I was “strong and reliable” to my hand signals, unlike my father. It conveyed that I was the sole individual in his entire faction who possessed those attributes. My presence in Italy seemed vital. How could I maneuver this to my own gain? At this moment, I had no preferable plan. That would need to change.

My declaration against marriage was sharp and decisive. I didn’t want to be like my father Alexie, and had no need of a woman or heir yet.

Speaking was an arduous task. I had ceased to verbalize everything, as it continued to inflict discomfort upon my throat. My vocal cords were irrevocably damaged from a traumatic incident at a young age.

Alexie’s voice droned on with exuberance about Sloane. “She’s revolutionized my life,” he declared, gesturing toward the new sports car outside the window. “You should see how wonderful this is for me.”

Every time I inquired about his relationship with Sloane, he defensively shielded her as if she were a queen. It was almost laughable, considering he had initially restrained her to keep her. It seemed she was his sole source of solace.

I shook my head, indifferent to the potential disrespect.

Alexie narrowed his eyes. “Marry any Italian woman linked by blood to the Don, and ensure she bears a child promptly. It solidifies our foothold in Italy if an heir is connected by blood.”

I caught the underlying insult and ignored it, used to Alexie’s harsh militant parenting style. Before I could verbally decline, he cut me off.

“Just consider it. I’ll wield power in both Italy and the United States. What will my brother do then?” Alexie mused.

Alexie had intended for me to marry his daughter once she reached the appropriate age. He didn’t trust any other faction to take her, so keeping her home would be best. That plan was undergoing modification, not that I ever believed it would come to fruition. Natasha Petrov, Alexie’s daughter, hadn’t even been admitted to The Academy. According to the headmaster, she was deemed unsuitable when Alexie attempted to force the issue.

Viktor received similar treatment. Their errant offspring were banned from the premises after the chaos they had causedon campus. The Academy was, after all, an elite institution. Even though the dark underbelly hid its true secrets from the facade the headmaster chose to portray. No one saw the grime. The filth that was hidden behind these walls; something I wanted to rescue the girls from.

I made a decisive hand gesture across my throat, signaling my disapproval of the plan. Our domain was expanding. We had conquered the upper east side of the United States, and were preparing to extend our reach further down the coast before heading west.

“It is not a choice!” Alexie barked. “My daughter isn’t even accepted into The Academy, and her mother wouldn’t permit her to go. No Bratva man would take her as a wife without proper training. Thus, you must marry someone there. Anyone, provided her bloodline connects to the Don.”

He growled into the receiver. He had been relentlessly pushing this agenda since Sloane’s most recent miscarriage. He was evidently on edge.

I nodded and ended the call, before texting Alexie, “If she obstructs my plans, I might need to resort to the old ways, and eliminate her.” With that, I accelerated, heading toward the casino.

Gettingmy affairs in order so I could fly to Italy was a pain in the ass. I had to track down a suspected mole, collect money from the local businesses that were late, and do some mundane paperwork before sunset. While many preferred to move under the cover of the night, I ran my operations during the day. I wasn’t a night owl.

I grabbed my friend Anatoly. He came from Russia to help out with the MC, and stayed on to follow Alexie. Russia was too cold for him.

“Let’s go bust some kneecaps.” He grinned at me.

I didn’t respond. It was rare for me to address the men if it wasn’t in some form of writing. Not only did it cause me less pain, but it kept the men at a distance, making it easier to rule them with fear at my age. Many tried to push back against my reign, but with Alexie traveling a ton right now, I showed that I could lead even without words.

The keys jangledin my hand as I handed them to Anatoly, along with a detailed briefing on running the casino. My stomach churned with discomfort as I reflected on the violence we orchestrated last night to protect our territory.

It was time for me to leave for my business trip, and trust my capable associate, Dmitri, to handle things in my absence. He’d been shadowing me closely for months, and was more than ready to take over.

As I boarded my private jet, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling of anxiety about leaving my operation behind. Anatoly, my right-hand man, reassured me that everything would run smoothly while I was gone. Our casino served as a front for a high-end brothel during the day, adding another layer of complexity to my already chaotic life.

I tipped my head back and relived my worst night.

Music played in the background as women entertained clients on the floor, and up above in the luxury suites, hidden by a wall of security and a VIP elevator. If clients didn’t have the key that their escort provided, they weren’t getting into the VIP area.The elevator took them upstairs, which had different rooms with different themes. All the dark kinks a client could dream about.

I looked out at my mini kingdom, something that was all mine, and watched as they mingled. There were many powerful clients walking around tonight, and I wouldn’t allow any of them to get hurt under my watch, which was why security was so tight. The men and women who protected my assets made sure that they kept their noses clean, and their pants up. Nothing less would be tolerated.

My brow furrowed in irritation as I heard a soft knock at my office door. My coworkers understood not to enter without announcing themselves, except in emergencies.

“Boss!” Kira, a well-seasoned soldier, shouted through the door.

My pen scratched against the paper as I tried to finish my work before the end of the day. My employee burst into the office, her face flushed, and her voice trembling. “It’s one of our girls,” she said, her hands shaking. “She’s in a bad way.”

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