Claimed by Shadows (The Shadowmen #2)

Chapter 34

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

“INNOCENCE” BY NATHAN WAGNER

NIKOLAI

U nknown: Holland Park Opera, 7pm this Friday for Iris’s birthday. You’re the surprise present, sweetheart.

My heart thuds inside my chest, my hand trembling slightly as I read the text message clearly from Hunter, if the nickname is any indication. I can’t believe I almost forgot about her birthday. I used to make sure to send her an iris flower every year, even when I was in a Russian prison cell. I never signed my name, it was too dangerous, but this year, I can give it to her in person.

“The assistant police commissioner has agreed to meet, boss,” Dima tells me gruffly, interrupting my thoughts. I look up at him, adrenaline flooding my bloodstream and leaving me breathless.

Things are moving forward. If I can get him on my side, it’s another way to not only protect myself from any legal fallout from my takeover, but it’s another nail in the coffin of my father. The plan is simple; give Assistant Police Commissioner Brant evidence that his boss is corrupt, enough to get the current Police Commissioner fired and Brant can take his place, thus giving me my own man in a position of power.

“Excellent. Invite him to Holland Park Opera this Friday, 7pm, and we can do the handover then. Tell him to wear a tux,” I instruct, and Dima nods, turning back to his encrypted laptop and sending the message. We can’t be too careful, especially as we’re still in the lion’s den, so to speak.

“We’re going to the opera?” Andrei asks, a twinkle in his eyes. A grin splits my lips, a true smile that rarely graces my face these days.

“It’s Iris’s birthday, and apparently I’m to be her surprise gift,” I tell my friend, watching as happiness floods his features. That’s the sign of a true friendship, the fact he’s overjoyed for me knowing what seeing her will mean to me.

“Then Dima and I best dust off our tuxes too. Can’t leave you to have all the fun, and I hear their production of Madame Butterfly is exquisite.” Andrei sighs and I chuckle. He’s a huge fan of the arts, particularly opera, but with our line of work, we don’t often get to indulge in our pleasures just for the simple enjoyment of them.

“I’ll tell Sergi that I’m buttering up Brant. He wants me to focus on the next generation anyway, too arrogant to realise we are the ones that will take over one day,” I tell them, my voice low even though I know that no one can hear us. Plus my father is out doing business, setting up his next vile auction, which dampens my excitement at seeing Iris again.

“I’ll get the files ready to hand over,” Dima states, going back to work and pulling out a USB file, sticking it into his laptop, and no doubt copying over some of the files I stole from Sergi’s laptop.

He was raging for days afterwards, but no one could find evidence of a break-in. He did mention the missing knife, but as I’d not seen it other than in his safe, I could quite honestly deny all knowledge of it. My lips twitch, realising that I can give it back to Moy Solntse as an extra present.

Taking my phone from my pocket, I open my contact who has managed to source irises for me over the years. It’s not quite the right time of year for them here in the UK, but she always comes through and finds me one.

My smile returns as she assures me she has already sourced a flower, a rare heritage bloom called Swerti Iris . A picture comes through moments later, showcasing a stunning, creamy flower with purple edging and curling petals.

Perfection.

My pulse is fast in my veins as I survey the crowd around me, the collar of my black shirt with matching bow tie feeling too tight around my neck. I wanted to look good for my Kotenok though, so I went the full hog and must say I feel pretty fucking dapper.

“Petrov,” a man’s voice greets from beside me where I lean against the bar, and I glance next to me to find Brant, wearing a clearly off-the-peg suit.

“Brant, thank you for coming,” I say, signalling the bartender for another vodka. At least they know how to serve it properly here, top-shelf Russian vodka in a frozen glass.

“I was intrigued by your proposal,” he says, his voice low as he accepts the glass and takes a sip. His face scrunches and I can’t help laughing.

“Vodka not to your liking, Brant?” I ask, and he chuckles ruefully.

“I’m more of an ale man myself,” he replies, placing his glass down.

With a sleight of hand that looks years to perfect, I slip the USB into his suit pocket, glancing around us and keeping a smile on my face. The worst thing to do is to look like I’m hiding something.

“On that drive is all the information you’ll need to replace your boss,” I tell him, and he blinks before his face goes back to his disarming smile.

“And your price for such information?” he enquires. Smart man.

“I may need you to turn your cheek from time to time in the coming months, but my main requirement is that you are my man. No one else’s.” I stare into his hazel eyes, not dissimilar to Iris’s.

“Not even…” He doesn’t say my father’s name, but we both know who he is asking about.

“My man. No other’s,” I reaffirm. “Do we have a deal, Commissioner?” He licks his lips, then gives a sharp nod. “Excellent. It’s about time the next generation had their turn, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, I think you are right there,” he replies, and I hold my glass out in a toast. He picks his up, clinking the glass and taking another sip, even as his lips pucker again.

“Enjoy the performance, Commissioner,” I say, my attention caught on the door as a vision steps in after a hulking Shadow.

All else is forgotten as I watch Iris, sparkling in a beaded gown that steals the very breath from my lungs. Usually, Holland Park is informal, but tonight is a special performance, a charity fundraiser, so everyone is dressed to the nines, but my beautiful Kotenok outshines them all.

I pick up the bunch of Swerti Iris from the bar, her knife tucked safely in my pocket, and follow them from a distance. Not that the Shadows don’t know I’m here. Not only did they invite me, but Hunt clocked me as soon as he walked in, and I’m glad. Iris needs that kind of protection on her, at least until my father no longer walks this earth.

The fifteen-minute call for people to take their seats sounds around us, and I enter the auditorium a few people behind me, knowing that my seat is right next to my Dorogaia. My heart pounds, my body tingling as I take my seat just after the lights go dark.

Leaning over slightly, I drop the flowers into her lap. “Happy birthday, Malyshka .”

I watch as the sun’s final rays decorate her face, her mouth parted and eyes glittering as she stares at me as if nothing else exists. It’s a look that makes my chest tight. No one has ever looked at me like I’m worth that much, no one but her.

“Nik,” she whispers, quickly glancing around us as her hands take the flowers. She looks down, then her head snaps back up, her eyes wide. “All these years, it was you sending me irises on my birthday?”

“ Da , Moy Solntse ,” I whisper, my fingers twitching with the need to reach out and brush her cheek, feel her soft skin against my own, but even though Dima, Andrei, and I all checked to make sure none of my father’s men are here, it’s still a risk. Even sitting next to her is one, but I couldn’t not be beside her, even if it’s just for a little while.

“Oh, Nik,” she breathes out, clutching the flowers just as the opening bars of the first act sounds around us, but it’s all muffled, nothing else is real aside from the goddess in front of me. Her eyes glisten as tears fill them, and it tears me in two, not being able to hold her.

I slide my hand down between us, and she glances down, inhaling sharply, then reaches her own hand to brush her fingers against mine. I tangle our hands together, turning to face the front.

“Watch the show, Moy Solntse . We can find somewhere private later to catch up,” I whisper, seeing her nod out of the corner of my eye as she too turns to face the stage.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Nik,” she murmurs, but I hear it, my whole body attuned to hers.

“Me too, Malyshka .”