Page 63 of Claimed By Shadows

We just need to tell him first, make him understand that it’s not just us anymore, not just Iris, and with her birthday next week, I have the perfect plan.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“INNOCENCE” BY NATHAN WAGNER

NIKOLAI

Unknown: Holland Park Opera, 7pm this Friday for Iris’s birthday. You’re the surprise present, sweetheart.

My heart thuds inside my chest, my hand trembling slightly as I read the text message clearly from Hunter, if the nickname is any indication. I can’t believe I almost forgot about her birthday. I used to make sure to send her an iris flower every year, even when I was in a Russian prison cell. I never signed my name, it was too dangerous, but this year, I can give it to her in person.

“The assistant police commissioner has agreed to meet, boss,” Dima tells me gruffly, interrupting my thoughts. I look up at him, adrenaline flooding my bloodstream and leaving me breathless.

Things are moving forward. If I can get him on my side, it’s another way to not only protect myself from any legal fallout from my takeover, but it’s another nail in the coffin of my father.The plan is simple; give Assistant Police Commissioner Brant evidence that his boss is corrupt, enough to get the current Police Commissioner fired and Brant can take his place, thus giving me my own man in a position of power.

“Excellent. Invite him to Holland Park Opera this Friday, 7pm, and we can do the handover then. Tell him to wear a tux,” I instruct, and Dima nods, turning back to his encrypted laptop and sending the message. We can’t be too careful, especially as we’re still in the lion’s den, so to speak.

“We’re going to the opera?” Andrei asks, a twinkle in his eyes. A grin splits my lips, a true smile that rarely graces my face these days.

“It’s Iris’s birthday, and apparently I’m to be her surprise gift,” I tell my friend, watching as happiness floods his features. That’s the sign of a true friendship, the fact he’s overjoyed for me knowing what seeing her will mean to me.

“Then Dima and I best dust off our tuxes too. Can’t leave you to have all the fun, and I hear their production ofMadame Butterflyis exquisite.” Andrei sighs and I chuckle. He’s a huge fan of the arts, particularly opera, but with our line of work, we don’t often get to indulge in our pleasures just for the simple enjoyment of them.

“I’ll tell Sergi that I’m buttering up Brant. He wants me to focus on the next generation anyway, too arrogant to realise we are the ones that will take over one day,” I tell them, my voice low even though I know that no one can hear us. Plus my father is out doing business, setting up his next vile auction, which dampens my excitement at seeing Iris again.

“I’ll get the files ready to hand over,” Dima states, going back to work and pulling out a USB file, sticking it into his laptop, and no doubt copying over some of the files I stole from Sergi’s laptop.

He was raging for days afterwards, but no one could find evidence of a break-in. He did mention the missing knife, but as I’d not seen it other than in his safe, I could quite honestly deny all knowledge of it. My lips twitch, realising that I can give it back toMoy Solntseas an extra present.

Taking my phone from my pocket, I open my contact who has managed to source irises for me over the years. It’s not quite the right time of year for them here in the UK, but she always comes through and finds me one.

My smile returns as she assures me she has already sourced a flower, a rare heritage bloom calledSwerti Iris. A picture comes through moments later, showcasing a stunning, creamy flower with purple edging and curling petals.

Perfection.

My pulse is fast in my veins as I survey the crowd around me, the collar of my black shirt with matching bow tie feeling too tight around my neck. I wanted to look good for myKotenokthough, so I went the full hog and must say I feel pretty fucking dapper.

“Petrov,” a man’s voice greets from beside me where I lean against the bar, and I glance next to me to find Brant, wearing a clearly off-the-peg suit.

“Brant, thank you for coming,” I say, signalling the bartender for another vodka. At least they know how to serve it properly here, top-shelf Russian vodka in a frozen glass.

“I was intrigued by your proposal,” he says, his voice low as he accepts the glass and takes a sip. His face scrunches and I can’t help laughing.

“Vodka not to your liking, Brant?” I ask, and he chuckles ruefully.

“I’m more of an ale man myself,” he replies, placing his glass down.

With a sleight of hand that looks years to perfect, I slip the USB into his suit pocket, glancing around us and keeping a smile on my face. The worst thing to do is to look like I’m hiding something.

“On that drive is all the information you’ll need to replace your boss,” I tell him, and he blinks before his face goes back to his disarming smile.

“And your price for such information?” he enquires. Smart man.

“I may need you to turn your cheek from time to time in the coming months, but my main requirement is that you are my man. No one else’s.” I stare into his hazel eyes, not dissimilar to Iris’s.

“Not even…” He doesn’t say my father’s name, but we both know who he is asking about.

“My man. No other’s,” I reaffirm. “Do we have a deal, Commissioner?” He licks his lips, then gives a sharp nod. “Excellent. It’s about time the next generation had their turn, wouldn’t you agree?”

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