Page 29 of Wicked Arrangement

Yaroslav

Standing at the bar I take another gulp of neat vodka, watching from a distance as my sister talks to Kim. It’s clear from their body language this is their first meeting, but this does little to ease my turbulent thoughts. I don’t like the fact that Kim’s friend Amelia is here. It doesn’t line up with her not knowing anything about my world. It means that Kim could have ulterior motives for getting close to me. Especially now she seems so keen to get to know my sister. I’ve been burned too many times to trust anything or anyone at face value.

I spot Artem in the crowd and beckon him over.

“Evening Boss, hitting the hard stuff already?” he says, his tone more concerned than judgmental, Artem’s known me long enough to spot when something is troubling me.

“Yes. Join me?” I say, more an order than a question, as I gesture to the bartender to pour two more glasses.

Artem silently accepts the drink, taking a sip and wincing. It’s hard to get the really good vodka here. Most of the American bigwigs favor scotch or whiskey. I continue to watch Kim chatting with my sister and Amelia, she throws her head back and laughs at something Marta says just as two men approach them. One I recognize as my sister’s husband, Jackson Brown. He’s aged, as has Marta – it’s been almost twenty years since I last saw them in person. But otherwise, he seems unchangedfrom what I recall, not that I spent much time with him before he and my sister moved to England.

Marta got her fairytale ending, the rich husband who is as clean as a whistle, earning his fortune the good old-fashioned, legal way. Marta never came back to Russia. Meanwhile, after our parents were killed, I had to stay behind and run the family empire at only sixteen. I’d have been lost without my uncle’s guidance. Apart from the occasional gift and phone call, I’ve had no contact with her. Eventually, I stopped answering her calls. Uncle Innokentiy suggested that it was best for everyone, Marta had confided in him she wanted nothing to do with the family’s criminal activities and that she would rather move on with her life.

I have no idea what she’s doing here, in America, or at this party. I also don’t recognize the younger man with Jackson. He’s tall and well-built with light brown hair, he looks like the classic all-American boy next door, captain of the football team. Unsurprisingly, the man can’t take his eyes off Kim, engaging her in conversation. Amelia seems put out by this but doesn’t let that stop her from laughing too hard at everything he says. Once more, I wonder how her friend Amelia received an invite to this party. Though looking at her fake tits and the way she’s eyeing up all the eligible men, I wonder if she’s one of Gillihan’s high end whores? That is something that perhaps I might need to talk to Kim about, she tells me that she’s only recently gotten reconnected with her childhood friend, and I’d hate for her to lead Kim astray. I mentally chastise myself, after the two weeks are up, I won’t be seeing Kim again, so what concern is it of mine what she does with her life, or who she chooses to spend time with?

Another ridiculous peal of laughter from Amelia catches my attention, All American Boy’s making Kim laugh too, though not as enthusiastically. Watching them pisses me off and my inner caveman is screaming out for me to go over and wipe that smug grin off his face and show him who Kim belongs to. My reluctance to engage with Marta is the only thing holding me back.

I grip my glass so tightly my knuckles go white, and I worry I might actually break the glass. Luckily, I’m no longer on the champagne, or else I’d have snapped the flute in two. Artem follows my gaze.

“I see Kimberly has met Marta,” he points out, watching me for my reaction, no doubt wondering if he needs to take me outside to blow off some steam in a more private setting before I start killing people.

“Yes,” I state through gritted teeth. “What are they doing here?”

“As you know, Jackson has family in Vermont. I’ve no idea why they’re in Atlanta though, most likely business. I hear his business empire is expanding into various states across the US. I take it you don’t want a family reunion,” Artem points out the obvious.

Ignoring him, I ask, “Who’s the frat bro with them?”

“Joseph Miller, a young up-and-comer in Jackson’s US business ventures. I believe he’s handling things Stateside,” Artem explains.

“Is he clean?”

Artem shrugs, “Not done a deep-dive on him so I can’t say for sure, want me to find out?”

“Yes,” I reply.

Generally, I have Artem keep tabs on Marta but nothing beyond the superficial just to make sure she’s alright and that Jackson is the legitimate businessman he claims to be. If he’s expanding stateside and dealing with people in my territory, I want to know more. Marta may be out of the lifestyle, but enemies of the Volkov Wolfpack know she’s still family, my blood. They might try to use that against me.

“What about the girl, Amelia? Kim knows her. Who is she?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the I feel rage bubbling up as I watch Joseph Miller flirting with Kim.

“Amelia Warren, her father’s a plastic surgeon and shameless social climber. Her parents live in Charleston but she moved to Atlanta three months ago. I couldn’t find much on her, but I suspect her father is funding her lifestyle,” Artem explains.

I’m not surprised he knows this. Firstly, Artem knows everything and everyone that comes near our circle, that’s his job. Secondly, I asked him to look into Kim, and since Amelia is her good friend, she’s bound to have come up in his research. Kim and Amelia seem so different, and I wonder why she’s friends with someone like her? Though I suppose when one has history with a person, then even if the years change them, they’re still a part of your life. Rather like siblings, I think, as I look at my sister. We are nothing alike, but whether I admit to it or not, there is still a deep connection between us.

“Any mob connections?” I ask, still watching the group chatting away merrily.

“Warren definitely knows the South Carolina mobsters—heck, he’s worked on half of their wives—but it’s unclear if he’s involved in any criminal activity. He’s no doubt aware of it and a slippery fuck, but that could just be that he’s happy to turn a blind eye for the right price,” Artem explains, grabbing a couple of canapés from a passing waiter and shoveling them in.

I nod, taking it all in. I don’t like this. I don’t like how many coincidences there seem to be surrounding Kim. Hitting my car at just the right time to save me from a bomb, then needing me to bail her out only days later, insisting on paying me back and happily agreeing to stay with me, and now being best friends with someone with inside connections and readily chatting to my sister and her husband. I’m sure most people would think I’m paranoid, that there’s no way she can have planned any of this, they’re probably right. But I didn’t get to be the leader of the Volkov Wolfpack by being nice and trusting.

When I look back over, I notice that Kim is now alone with Joseph Miller, Amelia’s sinking her claws into some other poor shmuck and Marta and Jackson have disappeared into the crowd. My blood boils as I notice Miller has placed his hand on Kim’s arm and she’s making no move to stop him. He’s going to regret laying a finger on what’s mine. I toss back the remainder of my vodka and slam it down on the counter.

Artem, not missing anything chuckles. “Try not to kill anyone in front of civilians, Boss. It’s a bitch of a clean-up job and there’s a fuck ton of witnesses here.”

That’s all the warning or advice he’ll venture to give me, he knows better than to try anything else. I will do what I want, and no one can stop me. Though I try to keep the violent anger I feel suppressed, he’s right. I don’t bother to say anything to himas I stride through the throng of people, making my way toward Kim.

I grab her by the arm, a little too roughly, “We’re leaving,” I state icily, trying to keep my voice calm.

“Yaroslav…” she says, confused.

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