Page 27 of Reclaimed Crown

I startle and whip myself around, seeing Arkady standing on the other side of the screen door. His eyes drag slowly over my body as I walk over to open it. His greasy blond hair holds the form of his hat when he removes it and the diamond sitting in his earlobe glints as he turns to walk inside. He strolls around as if he owns the place. In a way, he does. Without the money Arkady funnels through this cafe, we would have closed a long time ago. The only customers we have are him and his men. No one else drives down this road unless they’re lost, which I imagine makes it an ideal place for discussing mafia business.

“Ey!” he yelps loud enough to reach the front of the cafe.

I look at Arkady, confused on why he’s searching for my father. Usually Arkady is the person giving my father the pet tasks.

“My father isn’t here,” I say. Not that I think Arkady will care, but I throw in an excuse. “He’s feeling ill today.”

Arkady turns to me with a rough expression on his face. He clasps his hands behind his back and leans forward as if he’s preparing to lecture a child.

“Did he leave something for me?” he asks.

I grab the envelope the bread truck driver left and walk it over, handing it over with a curt flick of my wrist. I hate dealing with Arkady and his men. I hate the power they’ve always had over my father and me, and I hate they use our cafe to conduct their own business. They forced us to become dependent on them and act like they’re doingusa favor.

For a moment, I think of Ashlyn’s offer to return to Chicago and stay with her, but I know it’s a fantasy. There’s no way I can pull something like that off.

Arkady plucks the envelope out of my hands and opens it in front of me, fanning out more money than the cafe makes in a year. He counts through it while I stand in front of him. He appears to be satisfied when he’s done counting and turns his eyes back to me.

“You can never be too sure,” he says. “A cheap bastard like your father could always run off with my money one day.”

“He didn’t,” I say in protest of Arkady’s suggestion.

His eyelids draw lower over his eyes as he puts on a revolting grin. He steps closer to me and snatches my hand into his, pulling it between us, palm up. He lays the envelope in my hand with the money still peeking out as if to entice me.

“If you were my woman, I’d give you this to go spend over the weekend,” he says, with his eyes drifting down my neck.

The idea of being Arkady’s woman is gross enough, but I immediately recall what Viktor said before I left last night.

You’re mine now, zaychik.

I’ve only seen Viktor twice since he returned. Both times, we ended up unexpectedly having sex. My stomach flutters thinking about him inside me. He scares me, but I can’t help but admit that he turns me on more than any man ever has.

I shove the envelope into Arkady’s chest, “But I’m notyourwoman,” I say.

“What’s this?” I hear called from the screen door. Another one of Arkady’s men arrived and is entertaining himself by watching Arkady hit on me. Arkady heads for the dining room, which means they’ll be staying here to chat.

Damn. I was hoping Arkady would pick up his money and leave.

I go to the door and let the other man in. He’s wide-bodied with an olive complexion. His ears are bright red from the cold outside. As he steps inside the kitchen, he shakes off the snow that’s accumulated in his short, dark hair.

The man heads to the front of the cafe. I keep the door unlocked in case any more of Arkady’s men show up. Pots and dishes clink together as I scramble to get their typical orders ready, checking to make sure we have the ingredients.

Vodka, tea, milk, sugar… at least the drinks are covered.

And the bread.

I pull open the cooler doors, surveying what we have to make for breakfast. Eggs, ham, and not much more than that.

Why is my father gone so early, and why doesn’t Arkady know anything about it?

I shake away the thought and try to focus on getting what the men need so they can leave as soon as possible. My foot raises and pushes the metal door open and I walk through with my arms full of drinks. The conversation the men are having becomes more discernible as I approach the table.

“So what if they confirmed his identity? That changes nothing,” Arkady says as he reaches for the chair nearest to him and sits down. I can tell Arkady is trying to hide his fear. He wasn’t this casual over Viktor and Vadim meeting the elders the other day. The man with Arkady takes a seat on the other side of the table, closer to the front door.

“The elders vowed to uphold his right to assume his father’s position.” The the man tells Arkady as he leans over their table. “The other Bratva will organize behind him.”

Arkady swallows hard before he brushes off the other man’s worries. “There’s few allies left outside of the Mikhailov Bratva, and even inside. I received word that the brothers are fighting with one another, even last night. The Mikhailov Bratva themselves can’t organize, and you think alliances that have been dead for fifteen years will do a better job?” He leans back and pours sugar into his tea. “If I hear something to worry about, I’ll worry. But for now, the information being passed to me is not concerning. We proceed as planned.”

“Our assassination attempt failed,” the man reminds Arkady.

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