Page 8 of Slipping into the Dark Side

Boris latched onto his shoulders, “Holy fucking shit!”

Yakov didn’t reach for it. He pushed around the lawyer and went to the vanity against the wall and pulled out a pistol. It was already loaded and he pulled back on the hammer and waited for Yefim to come back through the doors. He didn’t know if he could do it, but he knew he’d have no choice. If Yefim tried to kill him, he’d have to kill him first. There was no taking this title away from him. He deserved it even if Yefim didn’t feel that way.

“Everybody, sit down,” Yakov demanded, never taking his eyes off the doorway. He wanted to hear him, hear the door slam, and hear Yefim’s car drive away. “Be quiet,” he barked. He licked his lips and waited. Sweat dripped from his armpit and soaked the side of his shirt. He continued to wait. Minute after minute.

His sister Luerna ran out of the room and only two minutes later returned, “He’s gone. He went out the back.”

Did he trust her? Could he? She had been his caretaker since he was born, but did she love him more than Yefim?

“It’s okay, Yakov,” she assured.

If she was betraying him, he wouldn’t see it coming. Luerna could set fire to his house, admit it, and he’d still blame someone else. As the family head, having a weakness like that wasn’t worth keeping around. His father would tell him to send her away and perhaps he would, but for now, Yakov turned his attention to the audience.

The upset was clear on too many faces. They had all been sucking up to the wrong son all these years and now they were bitter. Boris was grinning because he knew that his life would change for the simple fact of being Yakov’s friend.

But what was going to happen for being Yakov’s enemy?

Yakov fired.

The bullet smacked into Demir Utkins, and blood spattered onto Fedor and on Tatianna’s white skirt. She stood in horror, though she hadn’t screamed, Yakov noted. His sisters had, but not her. He kept the gun trained on the audience and watched each movement. Hands went into jackets or hips, but everyone stayed still. “Your only warning. Obey me and live.”

There was little movement, the shock keeping them still.

Fedor was the first one to stand, covered in his father’s blood. Yakov met his gaze, preparing another bullet into the chamber, but Fedor held up a hand. He was shaking and wild eyed. “Does our conversation still apply?”

Yakov kept his grip tight. Demir Utkins had been up his brother’s ass for a long time. Killing him was purposeful, and a little selfish. He wanted Fedor to get pissed off so he could kill him, get him out of the way so Yakov could pursue Tatianna. The conversation with Fedor at his father’s funeral had been truthful then, but with this turn of events, it didn’t apply. In front of so many, Yakov had to build trust. Or they would all turn against him.

Yakov nodded. “It does.”

Fedor glanced at his father, who sat with his head back and mouth wide and blood dripping into the carpet. The sound was more like a ‘splat’ than a drip. Fedor bowed his head. “Mr. Morozov.”

It was slow, the acceptance, but it came. They could have outnumbered him, they could have all drawn their guns at thesame time and killed him, but Yaroslav’s painting was behind Yakov and any disagreement dissolved under his scrutiny.

Yakov wanted power like that.

The power to control without even being in the room.

Until then, this will do.

—

Yakov found her in the servant’s quarters. Tatianna stood beside the sink as a maid went about trying to scrub out the blood but it only smeared it. She slapped a hand against her hip, “Thank you for trying.”

Her politeness caught him off guard. He never thanked the help and he didn’t know anyone who did.

After another failed attempt to get rid of the red stain, Yakov interrupted. “Go get her a change of clothes from my sister’s closet.”

Tatianna didn’t look back at him, staring at the floor instead.

“Please,” he added awkwardly.

The maid rushed off and Yakov approached from behind. There was a rush to him, an excitement that he didn’t know if he could contain. Everything he wanted was coming to him, all the pieces were fitting into place. It was addicting and filled him with a happiness he had not felt in a long time.

Perhaps he had never been happy because this feeling was euphoric and incomparable. The only thing would make it better would be to have a woman in his bed tonight.

Yakov stopped when he was only inches behind her. Close enough to smell her perfume, but not enough to feel her ass. He could see the different shades of blond in her hair and wondered what it would feel like to slip his fingers into it. And clench his hand around it. “You didn’t scream.” He ran his eyes down the low dip in the back of her blouse. It exposed her spine but nothing else. It was just enough tease to entice him.

“Was I supposed to?”

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