Page 68 of Stalk Me

I focus on the numbers, but part of my mind remains in that gallery, watching over mymalishkaas she works, keeping her safe while maintaining the illusion of normalcy she craves. The security feed shows her smiling at a customer, and my chest tightens.

I return my focus to the financial reports as the boardroom door opens. Erik strides in, followed by Alexi, who’s already fixated on his phone.

“The Chinese numbers are off by thirty percent,” Dmitri continues. “Either someone’s skimming or?—”

“Or they’re setting us up,” Erik cuts in, dropping into the chair beside me. His face bears fresh bruises—clearly, he’s been hands-on with security training again.

Alexi doesn’t bother sitting; he just leans against the wall, fingers flying across his screen. “The digital trail’s clean. Too clean. Someone’s trying too hard to cover their tracks.”

I close the gallery feed on my tablet, though it pains me. Minutes remain before I face the board of directors, requiring the lethal focus that’s made the Ivanov name feared. This Chinese deal could expand our shipping routes significantly and increase the Ivanov family’s power or blow up in our faces.

“Show me what you found,” I tell Alexi.

He projects his screen onto the wall display, lines of code and financial data scrolling past. “See these transaction timestamps? They’re sequential. Real business operations have random patterns and delays. This is manufactured.”

“They think we’re idiots,” Erik growls.

“They think we won’t look closely enough,” I correct him, studying the numbers. The urge to check Sofia’s feed gnaws at me, but I push it aside. “Dmitri, what’s our exposure if we pull out now?”

“Minimal. We haven’t moved significant assets yet.”

“Good.” I lean back, mind already plotting counterstrategies. “Alexi, trace these transactions back to the source. Erik, I want you to put pressure on our contact in Shanghai. Dmitri?—”

The boardroom doors open as our various division heads start filing in.

I straighten my tie, cool mask sliding into place. “Let’s begin.”

I lean back in my chair, watching Dmitri command the room with his usual polished charm. He’s always been the natural choice for CEO—the perfect blend of ruthless business acumen and sophisticated public presence. While I control our empire from the shadows, my brother thrives in the spotlight.

“As you can see from the third quarter projections...” Dmitri’s voice carries clear authority as he walks our board through the presentation. His Armani suit is impeccable, and his smile is calculated to put everyone at ease while maintaining absolute control.

The division heads hang on to his every word. They should—Dmitri’s genius for legitimate business dealings has tripled our legal profits in the last five years alone. He makes our darker ventures appear pristine on paper, turning blood money into clean investments with an artist’s touch.

“We’re exploring new shipping routes through Singapore,” he continues, catching my eye briefly. I give him a slight nod. This is why our partnership works so perfectly—he knows how to package our true intentions in corporate-speak that will satisfy any authority’s scrutiny.

I check my phone discreetly, relieved to see no urgent messages from Sofia’s security detail. Dmitri’s voice perfectly captures our organization’s true nature, letting me focus on what matters—power, protection, and control.

“Any questions about the proposed expansion?” Dmitri asks the room, his ice-blue eyes scanning each face.

I scan the faces around the boardroom table. Each division head is a carefully chosen piece in our empire’s machine.

Marcus Chen runs our Pacific shipping operations, his placid expression masking the ruthlessness that’s helped him eliminate three rival cartels in the past year alone. His immaculate suit can’t hide the dragon tattoo creeping up his neck—a reminder of his Triad connections before we made him a better offer.

To his left sits Katya Petrova, her silver hair swept into a severe bun. She oversees our European art acquisitions—both legal and otherwise. Her network of forgers and thieves has proven invaluable, especially when we need certain pieces to mysteriously “appear” in our galleries. The diamond pendant at her throat was payment for arranging the disappearance of a particularly troublesome customs official.

Our head of security operations, Viktor Popov, takes notes with his scarred hands. Along with my brother Erik, the former Spetsnaz commander, Popov has transformed our enforcement division into a precise military operation. His methods are brutal but effective—he personally handles training for our more specialized personnel.

Isaac Goldman reviews the financial projections at the far end through wire-rimmed glasses. Our money launderingexpert has built such complex networks of shell companies and offshore accounts that even Alexi admires his work. His legitimate banking connections provide perfect cover for moving our less legal profits.

These people understand our organization’s dual nature—the careful balance of legitimate business and criminal enterprise. Each one has proven their loyalty through blood and fire. They know the cost of betrayal, having witnessed the consequences firsthand.

Dmitri catches my eye again, a slight tilt of his head indicating it’s time to move forward with our plans. I give him an imperceptible nod, watching as he smoothly transitions into discussing our “logistics restructuring”—a pleasant euphemism for the coming war with our Chinese rivals.

“The numbers from Shanghai are concerning,” Marcus says, his usual calm demeanor slipping. “Our contacts report increased military presence around the ports.”

I lean forward, the feed from Sofia’s gallery forgotten as alarm bells ring in my mind. “Military presence? Not private security?”

“PLA Navy vessels,” Viktor confirms, sliding a folder across the table. “Three destroyers moved into position last week.”

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