Page 39 of Zafira

“Bogdan is right,” Arian said. “If we go to his house, he’ll be sure to use it to his benefit. We don’t want to give him more ways to increase his popularity with the public. Yes, we’re all in agreement that he has control of the Solntvesoka Bratva and that Seymon Mochilevich, Artem Melnyk, and probably many other syndicate leaders are under his power, but we have to be clever about our approach. If we fail, we might not find Vanya, and he will gain more power than any single person should have in the criminal empire.”

“So, what do we do, Arian?” Zafira paced the cabin. “It’s been days, and there have been no demands for Vanya’s release. That means only one thing—they want us to fall apart.”

“And once we do, we’ll be vulnerable,” Vadim interjected quietly. “They have no fucking idea who they’re dealing with, do they?”

“Calm down, honey,” said his wife, Sabira. “Anger isn’t going to achieve anything. We need to strategize.”

“Sabira is right.” Andrei hadn’t said a word for days. He had been searching longer and harder than anyone else. The black circles under his eyes were proof that he hadn’t slept much since Vanya had been taken. “Vanya is clever. She knows Maranzano better than anyone. She’ll stay alert and keep out of trouble, but we have to get to her... sooner rather than later. That Sicilian bastard is unpredictable. We know Cermak is involved.” He looked at Zafira. “Phone him. Ask him bald-faced what he wants.”

Bogdan mulled over Andrei’s suggestion. “It has merit, and it will put a damper on his initial plan of playing emotional mind games with us. He will have to regroup and meet with Maranzano, so let’s wait until we’re in Prague before you call him, Zafira. The closer we are to him, the quicker we can react.”

“Catch him off guard, in other words,” Zafira agreed with a nod. “How long before we land, Arian?”

“Forty-five minutes. The private airstrip is a ten-minute drive from Kramár's Villa. I’ve already asked our IT team to send one of our drones to the Villa and confirm the Cermak’s presence. If they’re not there, our plan will fall apart.”

“Good. Wake me when we’re about to land. I need to think.” Zafira summarily closed her eyes, and within seconds, she was asleep. It was one of the perks she had learned over time. To completely switch off and drift off quickly. Short naps like these were powerful and just what she needed at present.

The last thoughts milling through her mind weren’t centered on their current mission. No, it was directed at Bogdan and how sleeping gave her a reason not to look at him. The dratted man had been unsettling her more and more the past couple of weeks with his brooding stares and expressive eyes.

Exactly! Since when does the master of stoicism show his feelings? It’s like he’s stamping his ownership over me with every glance.

What concerned her even more was that the thought of belonging to him filled her with thrilling expectations. There was no doubt he was a powerful Dominant, a fact he had proved more than once. The way he made her lose control and guided what her body craved without her realizing it confirmed what she had always known—Bogdan was more in tune with her needs than Viktor had ever been.

Not just my needs... he knows—I’m sure he has figured out—that I still love him. With a start, she came to a realization—that was why he had stayed all these years. Maybe it was time she opened her heart and stopped blaming him for things he had no control over. Not maybe—it’s time, period. I need him in my life. I know it, and God help me, so does he.

Chapter Nineteen

An hour later, two minutes out from Kramár's Villa, Prague, Chez Republic...

“So, you finally decided to call and apologize for running out on us in the middle of the night,” Marek Cermak answered Zafira’s call on the fourth ring.

“Basta con le stronzate, Marek. We both know why I’m phoning.”

“Cut the crap you say. As always, straight to the point. I’ve always been impressed with your ability to curse in every language.” A short silence followed as Marek considered what Zafira knew. “I’m a lot of things, Zafira, but I’m not a psychic, so I’m incapable of reading your mind. Let’s not waste each other’s time, and tell me why you’re phoning.”

“You have my daughter, you sonofabitch, but what I don’t know is why. Why her... and why me?”

Zafira’s body trembled with suppressed anger. She had been living a double life since birth, but to be on the receiving end of similar deceit was infuriating, especially since she had believed Triska and Marek were real friends of the family. It didn’t matter that he had criminal intentions. Hell, she was the epitome of a Bratva regime and all the blackness that came along with it, but they had shunned the closeness they had built up through the years... that hit her hard.

“Come now, Zafira. Surely you know better than to ask me that... or what am I saying, Shadow Don?”

“Shadow Don?” Arian murmured questioningly at Bogdan. Everyone had heard of the covert New Order Bratva group headed up by a powerful and very rich person. Zafira shot a warning glare at Bogdan. Of course, her children were too sharp not to catch on. “Isus Hristos!” Everyone echoed Arian’s shocked expression as he stared at her. “You’re the Shadow Don?”

“Ah, tut-tut-tut, Comare, keeping secrets from the family, are you? What I’d like to know is how that Hercules hogging your heels knew about me before you did? It was him who made you leave that night, wasn’t it?”

“Accidenti, giusto, bastardo,” Bogdan sneered. “You’re not as clever at staying under the radar as you believed. Once I smelled a rat, I didn’t stop until I found the fucking stink that you’re hiding under.”

“So eloquently put, Mr. Rusu. I’d be careful if I was you. I have enough on you to have you incarcerated for life.”

“As I do you, fuckface.”

Marek went quiet, clearly put out by Bogdan’s response.

“Yeah, threats don’t work on me. Now, where the fuck is Vanya?”

“Are you out of your mind, Marek? Put the phone down! You know the risk of having such a conversation here.” The voice of Triska Cermak sounded muffled over the phone.

“This is an encrypted line, Triska, and stop fucking telling me what to do.”

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