Deceitful Vows (Marital Privileges #2)

52. Andrik

52

ANDRIK

“ A re you sure you want to do this?” Konstantine scans the information in front of him. “This is bigger than the federation. It is a globally recognized army in the millions. We won’t be able to compete if the spark you’re attempting to ignite turns into an inferno.”

I jerk up my chin, never surer of anything in my life. “That’s the point. I don’t want to compete against him. I want him to take down the federation permanently .”

Konstantine waits a beat before breathing out slowly. “All right.” He inputs the details needed to spread my ruse into international waters while saying, “Just make sure my grave is dug the standard six feet. I don’t want any bears digging up my corpse.”

The fact he thinks I’ll come out of this exchange alive shows the lack of faith he has in my plan. I’d usually dislodge bullets for the disrespect, but since the steps I’m putting into play are to achieve the exact opposite, I swallow my pride for the hundredth time in the past two hours and impatiently wait for the final pieces to be placed down.

“Is that it? Is it done?”

“Uploaded as per your specifications. I just need to hit send,” Konstantine answers, his tone off. I learn why when he murmurs, “I’m still not sure about this. This seems almost suicidal.”

He hits the nail on the head, but I can’t tell him that. Instead, I take the defensive route because it will favor me as much as the latest ploy we just instigated.

“I don’t pay you for your opinion. I pay you to protect my assets.” He looks seconds from defending himself, so I talk faster. “Assets that are being squandered to nothing because you left me open to infiltration.”

Konstantine’s hacking talents are undeniably impressive, but I learn his street smarts are just as on par as his computer skills. “That shit ain’t on me. I protect your digital footprint. That ”—he thrusts his hand at my crotch—“has always been your responsibility.” He sinks into his chair, tsking and moaning on the way. “I also ain’t falling for your shit. Nor will I fall on the knife for him .” The way he spits out “him” leaves no doubt as to who he is referencing . He is talking about our father. “If you want to fire me, fire me. But I ain’t leaving without an exemplary employment history because I earned that fucking right. Years of dedication earned me that right.”

I don’t have time to play games, so I get to the point. “You’re fired. Your severance will be forwarded to you this afternoon. Don’t bother packing your things. I will have someone do it for you.”

“You’ll have someone do it for me.” He huffs out a laugh. “Who? You let them all go. Anouska. Lilia. Mikhail. Zoya.” His last name stings the most. “You’ve thinned your crew down to nothing in hours, so you’ve got no one left to boss around.” He looks like he wants to spit in my face. “But I guess that’s the point, isn’t it? The fewer attachments, the less carnage. You’ve just failed to realize you can’t do this without me.”

I scoff before shaking my head. His cockiness is pathetic. I taught him everything he knows. When you come knocking at my father’s door, seeking a handout from a man who refuses to pay a single cent in child support, you learn quick smart that the only thing you will inherit from him is a vigorous hairline and a big cock.

When my glare tells Konstantine he would be nothing without me, he changes tactics. “I’m not leaving. I came into this family with nothing, so I don’t care if I leave with the same.”

My hand instinctively moves for my gun, doubling his contrite grin.

I hate having my authority tested. I fucking loathe it. But just like my head knew it would never win the battle of my heart if I were to turn up to my pre-arranged meet with Zoya last night, it knows it won’t triumph in this fight either.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I taught Konstantine everything he knows. The first lesson was that the result of the battle doesn’t matter. It is knowing that you’ve never walked away from one that truly counts.

Another battle presents when I notice a flashy sports car gliding down my driveway. It isn’t in a fleet, and there are no flags flapping above the side mirrors.

My jaw firms when Maksim slides out of the driver’s side, removes his sunglasses, and then drags his eyes across my home. This is the only property in the name my mother called me. The rest are under KADOK Industries, meaning he shouldn’t be here.

“Zoya,” I murmur to myself when he pulls a duffle bag from the back of his convertible. It isn’t the same duffle bag my father handed Zoya days ago, but it is just as plump.

“Do you want me to get rid of him?”

I shake my head at Konstantine’s offer before giving him a look that says our conversation isn’t over.

Maksim smirks when I exit the front door of my home. “I guess we got off on the wrong foot.” He tosses the duffle bag at my feet like disrespecting me comes with no repercussions. “Maksim…” When I leave his handshake hanging, his smirk doubles. “Our deal is off. If you can’t be honest with who you are, I don’t want to work with you.”

“It is too late to negotiate after the deal is done. You don’t pay for an hour, blow your load in thirty seconds, and then ask for a refund. That isn’t how it works.” With Zoya already in the forefront of my mind, my tactics naturally veer toward her. “You also can’t keep the promise you made to your wife last night if you back out now.” Maksim hides his interest well. He looks bored. “My son needs a heart.” That gains his interest. He knew I was seeking a vital organ, but he had no clue who it was for. “If he doesn’t get one, he will die.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

He plays the devil’s advocate well. It is a pity the numerous surveillance images Konstantine stole from his servers last night show a different man. He will do anything to keep his new wife safe. He will even side with Satan.

“If Zakhar dies, you will hurt Zoya.”

He pffts me. “She’s never met the kid, so I doubt she’ll care.”

“She will when she discovers they’re related.”

Maksim’s steps to his car slow. “Related how?”

It is the fight of my life to not fold in two. “How doesn’t matter. DNA doesn’t lie. She is his blood relation, and as such, she will be devastated if she learns that you did nothing to help him.” I only have him partially over the fence, so I give him a tug. “Another senseless death of the innocent children your wife is endeavoring to save.”

“Leave her out of this!” His roar rumbles through my chest. “Or the only heart your son will receive will be yours.”

I laugh like I haven’t already sought advice on an adult donor’s heart being placed into the chest of an almost five-year-old. It was the first thing I researched after picking out the shards of glass that embedded in my cheek when I fired at my reflection.

That’s how fucking sick I felt when I couldn’t discount the honesty in my father’s eyes.

“I will never mention her name again, and it won’t be uttered by anyone on my team. But I need more time. My son needs more time.”

I don’t know if it is the pure angst that gets me over the line or the promise to rid the world of anyone who speaks his wife’s name in vain, but I am grateful no matter the premise.

“You have a month. After that, it won’t be just Myasnikov Private’s gizzards being dissected. This entire fucking rort will be torn down.”

Since that is all I’ve ever wanted, I dip my chin in understanding.