Page 13 of Heritage of Blood

My throat constricts at the command in his voice, and my breath hitches. He peers into my eyes, his nose flaring, and my fear bubbles to the surface. There is ice in his stare, and my blood runs cold. But the flare of indignation stomps out my jitters, and I yank my arm away, harder this time, so he releases me.

Why am I here?

“I work here, I—”

I whisper what I’m saying, but it’s full of seething anger. Why would he ask me why I’m here? “I’m about to bring you your drink, sir,” I finally manage.

His head snaps back as if he realizes he lost control and he reaches for his cuff link. My chest heaving, I take a few steps back before turning. “I’ll go get that drink now.”

I practically bolt back to the kitchen area and notice my drink order has been filled. I glance around the kitchen, tapping my fingers against my shaking thighs. That was stupid.Why am I afraid around him?Shouldn’t there be a common courtesy for people who experienced a tragedy like we did—not some hostile hallway demands. I blow a straggly hair that fell from my clip out of the way. Now to carry this tray with my trembling hands.

Maybe this man really needs his vodka.

When I deliver the table’s drinks, he isn’t seated, and I hustle out of there. Dinner is easier since I don’t have to speak, only serve, but I sense his eyes on me the whole time I’m placing plates on the table. Afterward, I walk over to Lacy, curious if I can find out more about this man.

“My table, table thirty-two. Do you know who that tall, dark-haired man is?”

She carefully steals a glance toward my table and nods. “That’s Mr. Morozov. Hot, isn’t he?” She laughs. “He is a businessman, worth millions or billions, I guess, but he is also rumored to be a mobster.”

I snort but do a double take when her face frowns.

“Rich billionaire I buy, a mobster …” I chuckle, but my jesting falls when I think back to that night. The guards, the cars, the attack that was swept under the rug by police and powerful politicians.

I lower my voice.

“He was the one,” I say, “from that night several months ago.” I wince, biting my lip too hard, and Lacy gives me a confused expression. “Remember that shooting I mentioned this past spring? It was him.”

I’m stuttering, unable to look at Lacy. I hate thinking about that night, and we never talk about it. I glance to the side, her wide eyes darting between me and the table.

“Oh my god! That was him?” she trails off. “Well then, definitely—jeez, Kate—of all the people.”

“I don’t know why he keeps popping up,” I say, scanning the room.

Lacy gapes at me. “Keeps popping up? How many times have you seen him?” She asks, then sighs, “I’m not an expert, but Eric is a journalist. It’s weird some of the stuff he gets tipped off about. Apparently, the Russian Mafia is huge in this city.” She shrugs, as if she’s used to these types of conversations.

I ponder her claim, exasperated with my naivety of the city I call home. If he is part of that, I want no part of him. It’s clear he remembers me, but I’ve had zero interaction with him since he collapsed on the pavement. I’m going to get through this evening and then make it a point to stay away.

Chapter9

Luka

Gazing up at the night sky, I try to make out some stars among the glaring lights that riddle the city. I lost my composure with the girl. In my line of work, I don’t believe in coincidences, and I’ve seen her twice within two weeks. Taking out my phone, I call Nik while two of my three guards finish their cigarettes.

“Boss,” Nik answers, panting heavily.

“I want surveillance on the girl.” I clip out. “Put a tail on her and someone in her building.”

Breathy moans sound in the background, muffled by what I’m assuming is Nik’s hand.

“Uh—what? Who … What girl?” he asks.

“Nikolai,” I bark, “if you are getting laid while on the phone with your pakhan, I will not hesitate to remove your most favorite asset. I want a tail put on Ms. Castile and someone in her building.”

“Yes, Boss.”

I hang up and nod at my guards to go back inside. I normally don’t make a habit of attending fundraiser galas. I don’t appreciate my face plastered around this city. Only a few outside the underworld can confirm my identity as the leader of the Bratva. The rest know me as a billionaire businessman, and with that comes events such as these.

Importing valuable art and artifacts works in our favor with our arms deals. All our shipments arrive in wooden crates, and with our connections, they move right through customs. I guess there’s beauty in both jobs. Regardless, I’m interested in some of the art in the second portion of the evening, so I’m choosing not to cut out early.

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