Twisted Throne (Bratva Born #2)

20. Dimitri

Dimitri

When I get upstairs, Adriana is pretending to be fast asleep. I know she isn't really sleeping because there is no way she fell this quickly. Still, if she wants to ignore me, then let her. I'm exhausted myself. I undress quickly and climb into bed beside her. I pull her close to me, unable to stop myself from wanting to be near her even in my anger. Her scent reassures me and grounds me, and as my body relaxes and the stress of the past few hours works its way out of all the kinks and knots within my muscles, I find myself reflecting upon what was said in the kitchen.

“I'm sorry,” I say softly into her hair. “I can be overbearing when I'm worried about someone I care about. There are so many threats out there at the moment, Adriana, and I can't keep track of every single one. I'll make you a deal, though. If you want time away from me, that's fine as long as you take some of our most trained men.”

“That still means you get to know every single place that I go,” she says. “It makes me feel like a prisoner. It makes me feel like this is unfair and unequal. I don't get to know everywhere that you go. I'm sure there’ll be meetings that you take that I'm not invited to, and I'll be left here like all the other little ladies to stay at the homestead. How is that fair?”

“It's not fair,” I admit. “The thing is, if they get hold of me, they will most likely kill me. If they get hold of you, they will do the most dreadful things to you. Things I can't even bear to think about. Can you imagine what that would do to someone? Imagine that they took me, and you knew that for days and days on end I was being raped. How would you cope? Would you ever get over it?”

She turns over and plants her palms on my chest. “No, I wouldn't get over it, Dimitri, but I wouldn't get over your death either.”

It's the first time she's discussed her feelings for me since we argued on the boat. I'll take that as a win.

“I don't go anywhere on my own,” I tell her. “If I go somewhere, I take security with me, so I'm just as bound by the rules as you are. If the issue you have is that you don't know exactly where I am, then put a tracking device on my phone; I don't care. Hell, tomorrow we’ll go to the jewelry quarter, and I’ll buy a bracelet with a tracking device in it, and you can fasten it around my wrist, lock it in place, and keep the key.” I'm being deadly serious here; that's not a throwaway comment. “If that makes you feel better, then that's what we’ll do. This isn't about me being some overbearing, controlling bastard; it genuinely is about knowing that you are safe.”

She kisses my chest and turns around, nestling her behind into the crook of my lap, where my knees are bent. “Okay,” she says. “I kind of like that idea. That makes you mine in the same way as you’re claiming that I’m yours.”

“You are mine,” I grumble. “Now, go to sleep. Try to get some rest. It's been an insanely crazy few days, and I don't think the intensity is going to let up quite yet.”

“What did you go out of the room to look at on your phone?” she asks. “Before. You said you’d tell me.”

“It was something we found in one of the houses belonging to a gang member. Dismembered body parts. You don’t need to see it. Just rest, littleblue.”

For once in her life, Adriana doesn't argue with me but does as I say. Her breathing evens out and slowly deepens, and as it does, I find my eyes drifting closed despite everything that's happened.

Sunlight hitting my eyes is what drags me out of the deepest, most dreamless sleep I've experienced in many years. I didn't use a white noise machine; I didn't watch movies on my iPad until I managed to fall asleep. All I did was curl up close to the woman in my arms and sink into the tranquility she brings.

I realize that it must be later than I intended to rise because of the position of the sun in the room. It doesn't normally get around to this side of the house until at least halfway through the morning. I reach for the night table next to the bed and fumble for my phone. When I glance at it I see that it's past ten in the morning. Crap. I have so much to do.

With a yawn, I haul myself out of bed and pad to the bathroom. After a hot shower, I dress in a pair of dark jeans, a navy T-shirt, and fasten my Rolex onto my wrist. I spritz on some aftershave and take one last look at Adriana who is still asleep. I leave her sleeping and slip out of the room quietly, not wanting to disturb her. I head down to the kitchen where I make myself a coffee before walking into Jacob’s study.

I realize that I need to call Damen and update him on the situation so that he can let Andrius and the others know what's happened to my stepfather. Not that it changes anything with the current plans, but if Jacob asked me to stand in for him while he recovers, then going forward, Damen will be dealing with me on matters of business. I sit at the chair where Jacob normally carries out his work and smooth my hands over the aged wood of the desk.

The front doorbell rings, and I head to the safe. I input the code, then take out a holster and a Sig. I pull off my T-shirt and fasten the concealed carry holster, placing the gun in it carefully. Pulling the T-shirt on quickly, I sit behind the desk again. I have no idea who is calling, but at the moment it pays to be armed. The guards are making sure anyone who comes into the compound is checked and is part of our close team, but you can never be too careful.

I ponder whether placing a guard on my bedroom door whenever I'm not in the room and Adriana is might be too paranoid and decide it is. However, I will have a guard under the window outside just in case. If I'm ever out of the house, then Adriana will always have someone next to her. While I'm in the house, anyone trying to get to her must go through me first. I find myself smoothing my hands over the worn wooden surface as I think of all the years Jacob sat here, carrying out business, and building this empire.

“Making yourself at home?” I glance up to see Virgil lounging in the doorway. His legs are crossed at the ankle, and his arms are folded over his chest.

“How is your daughter doing? Is she recovering well?” Let him remember exactly who saved her.

“She's doing well. How is he?”

“We don't know yet. I'm going to head to the hospital in a couple of hours to speak with the doctors. They gave him a drug last night that can help reverse some of the effects of a stroke and stop any further deterioration. We won't know how well it's worked for some time, they said.”

“But he's going to survive?”

“Yes, he'll survive.” I don't know this for a fact, but there is no reason for Virgil to understand just how unwell my stepfather is. He's the one man in this organization who could genuinely be said to have legitimate reasons for bad blood over the fact that I'm the person sitting at Jacob's desk right now. It doesn’t pay to share too much with him.

I lean back in the chair and lace my fingers behind my head, my legs straight out in front of me crossed at the ankles, mirroring Virgil's stance. “He asked me to stand in for him while he's incapacitated,” I say. Might as well put it out there right now.

“Of course.” Virgil shrugs one shoulder. “I would expect nothing less. You're his de-facto son and the person he wants to run things if anything should happen to him. It's not really the way of our world,” he goes on to say. He lifts one hand to his face and bites a thumbnail before ripping part of it off and then spitting it out. “Some might say I would be well within my rights to launch a challenge, given the fact that I've been the brigadier of this organization for many, many years, while you are still wet behind the ears.”

I work to keep my body language relaxed and not let him see that his words are in any way affecting me.

“The thing is, Dimitri, and you might not believe me, but I don't want it .” He shakes his head and gives a dark laugh. “They've already taken my daughter once, and being the head of this organization…” He pauses for a long beat. “It's nothing but placing a target right on your back. On your loved ones’ backs. I don't want my family to be those targets again. Not only do I not want the job you've been given because it's a poison chalice, my friend, trust me, but I think I'm getting ready to retire.”

I stare at him in disbelief, at the words he's just thrown at me. Is this a game? A trick? Perhaps this is his way of throwing me off balance so that he can come after what he really wants, without me watching out for it.

Something tells me, that's not the case. When I really look at him, truly examine him in a way I never have before, I can see he looks almost as tired as Jacob.

He walks into the room and takes a seat opposite me, leaning forward and tapping two fingers on the table before looking up at me. “You see, the thing about this life, Dimitri, is there's no halfway house. It's fine for those people in Corfu who you've been mingling with recently. They're on a compound, on the Greek island, with heavily armed men twenty-four-seven. I suppose you could say that the same goes for the people who stay here on the compound, which obviously doesn't apply to me or my family as we don't live here. But at some point, you have to leave this place, right? Your wife, if you ever take one, will want to leave.” He gives me a genuine smile at that. “To go shopping, maybe even a weekend away with her girlfriends. Of course, you can send extra armed guards with her wherever she goes, but what kind of life is that?”

“It's the kind of life that it appears I have become the heir to,” I say wryly.

“You know that I have great respect for Jacob, but I always thought that on occasion, he took the high ground far too readily. He is a tough leader, and our men have been kept in line for many years because he’s firm but fair. The thing is, Dimitri, the people out there now, they don't play by the old rules. They don't respect firm but fair.” His gaze sharpens, and a smile twitches in the corner of his mouth. “Something tells me, and this might just be a hunch, that they most certainly will respect the kind of man who cuts the hands off the people who didn't guard his brigadier's daughter properly.”

I can't quite believe what I'm hearing. I don't answer because some of what he's saying is downright disloyal, and I won't feed into that. Still, this is an endorsement and a retirement speech in one.

He sighs and steeples his fingers in front of his face, tapping his lips. “I'm not being disloyal to your stepfather,” he says as if he can read my mind. “He's been a great leader, but times have changed. The old guard, and I count myself in that as much as I do Jacob, we’re not ready for those changes. What’s needed now is a warrior. Someone who can deal with the threats out there with the kind of scorched earth tactics that are needed. I'm not alone in thinking this, you know. I do talk with Jacob regularly. We're extremely close. He's like my brother, and we both feel that you will take things in the needed direction.”

In many ways he's right. I’m not interested in getting out like Andrius has. The business is incredibly lucrative, and most of what Jacob does is, on paper at least, legal. If quitting and leaving this life isn't an option, then all that remains is to burn our enemies so badly that they dare not make a move against us.

“If you did decide to go scorched earth,” Virgil says, “you also have the connections to do it in a more effective way than we ever could have. We have an amazing team of men that we've brought from the street with us, while we built this organization from the ground up. What we don't have is access to lots of retired and out of work military who know how to literally fight.”

“There's just one problem with your suggestion,” I point out. “I can hardly turn the streets of San Francisco into a war zone. People might notice.”

“Well, I suppose that's where the rather specialist nature of the skills your team have would come in, isn't it? Why turn the streets into a war zone when you can quietly enter someone's home and take out the enemy? I don't know exactly what you did out there, Dimitri, but I know you weren't doing regular frontline fighting. That's not what your unit does, is it now?” He smiles, and it's crocodilian in nature.

“Those guys you brought in, all those years ago when Nataliya was taken, they had similar skill sets to you. I'm sure there are others like them, people that you know, who you could call on. You have a veritable army that can take people out when they're least expecting it. Put the fear of God into everyone, and you become untouchable. You already have a right-hand man with the same sorts of skills as yourself in Alexis. Build a team and take this business to new heights. That’s my advice.” He taps the table twice and shrugs. “Something to think about, at least. I just wanted to stop by and let you know that despite what you may have thought, I most certainly am not someone who is going to stand in your way if Jacob wants you to take over. It’s a twisted throne you’ll reign from, and I’m too old for that kind of shit.”

He stands to leave, and as he reaches the door, I ask, “Are there any other brigadiers or seniors in the organization who might object?”

He thinks for a long moment, then shakes his head. “No, I doubt it. I was a senior and next in line if anything happened to Jacob. If I endorse you, then the rest will. I'll stay around for a while if Jacob puts you in charge, act as your second for a bit, and then I'll slowly retire. Of course, I still have my shares in the organization, so you might say it's a win-win for me. You'll keep doing the hard work, and I will get a lot of the money.”

I laugh at that because he's not wrong. It's the way things work here. If you reach the kind of level Virgil’s at, even when you retire, you're still given a heap of money for doing nothing. It's not exactly a pension as such, because it's way more money than any pension would ever be. It's basically buying you off to not make trouble for the new people in charge.

“What about Jinx?”

Virgil snorts. “He’s a baby, when you get to know him. He’ll be loyal. He always was to me, and if I tell him to, which I will, he’ll be loyal to you. I checked into everyone, due to my daughter being taken and Jinx is clean. He’d be a good guy to have on side, but that’s up to you.”

“We’re talking as if he's definitely not coming back,” I say quietly, letting a moment of vulnerability show.

He shakes his head, knowing that I’m talking about Jacob. “I don't think he is coming back. He's tired, the same way that I am. Now that he's had this scare, it'll be a wake-up call. I can't speak for him, but as I said, me and him, we've done a lot of talking recently, and I think he'll want to take some time to spend with your mother now. He even mentioned taking a cruise a few months back.”

“Fuck me,” I say with a laugh. “There is no way he talked about taking a cruise.”

“He did. Apparently, your mother would love to go back to Italy, but she wants to see more of Europe, and he's been looking at cruises around the Mediterranean to take her. Let me know in case you need any help with anything, but honestly, I think you have this under control.”

He walks down the hallway whistling, and I sit back in my chair and stare at the ceiling as I consider everything he said. I'm busy working out in my mind all the ways that this could go if Jacob really does decide to step down, when I'm interrupted again by one of the guards. “There’s a request, someone wants to see you,” he says.

“Who?” I snap, irritated at being interrupted.

“Adriana’s father, and he wants to talk to you and his daughter. Can I let him come over?”

“Is that bitch of a wife with him?” I demand.

“No, he's alone.”

“Give me five minutes and then bring him.” I take the stairs to Adriana. I expect to find her still in bed, but she's not. For a moment my heart lurches, but then I hear the shower running. I walk into the bathroom and stand, admiring the view. The water cascades down her naked back, dripping from her curves. She looks like a statue, or a painting by an old master. She's perfection in every way. She turns as if she senses me there, and her face lights up in a smile before she schools her features and remembers she's angry with me. It's cute, and I bite back my smile, not wanting to get her angry all over again.

“Your father is coming here. He wants to talk to us both. Are you willing to speak with him?”

She clasps her hands and wrings them together; it's such a vulnerable gesture. I walk to her and, not caring that she's wet, pull her into me and kiss the top of her head. When she's in my arms like this, everything feels right. This woman, this gorgeous, beautiful woman is what I'm going to fight for.

For her, for my stepsister, and for my mother and stepfather so that they can have the retirement that they deserve. For those people, the ones I truly care about, I'll do exactly what Virgil suggested, and I will lay waste to our enemies to ensure the safety and survival of my family and this business.

“Give me a few minutes to get dressed, and I'll speak with him.” Her voice is low and shaky. I tip her face up to look at me, and I can see from her swollen eyes that she's been crying. “I hope those tears aren't because of me.” I gently kiss her eyes. “I love you, Adriana, and that’s why I need to know you’re safe.”

She sniffs and nods but doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll let him into the study. Come and meet us there. Would you like a coffee?”

“I'd love a coffee,” she says. With a small smile, she turns her back to me once more and finishes washing her hair. I admire the view for a few more seconds and then wrench myself away, taking the stairs two at a time. I order her a coffee from one of the maids and detour to the front door.

I open it to find her father standing on the steps, the guard behind him. He’s clasped his hands in front of him, and he looks small. Like he’s hunched in on himself. He looks up at me sheepishly. His body language is defeated, his features mortified. Pink burns on his cheeks and at the base of his throat as he licks his lips. I feel a vicious surge of anger as I look at him. He's such a wreck of a man that I should feel pity, but I can't. This man and his poor decisions, and his weakness , led his daughter into the circles of hell. It takes everything in me not to grab him by the neck and throttle the life out of him. Instead, I wave my arm politely and welcome him into my home as if I'm civilized person and not a fire-breathing demon wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

“Come, we can sit in the study.” I lead the way and glance back at him to see him staring around the house as if in wonder. “Adriana will be down in a moment.” We enter the study, and I gesture at the bar in the corner. I know this man has a drink problem, but I offer him one because I don’t give a shit what happens to him, truthfully. “You want a whiskey?”

“I'm such a failure,” he says, but he nods in acceptance. “Rehab say not to try to stop until you’re under medical supervision. Apparently, it can be dangerous. I’m so weak to have got in this mess.”

He won't get a rebuttal on that from me. I fix the drink and thrust it at him. Some sloshes on his shirt, and he dabs at it with his hand.

“She’s your daughter,” I say as I sit, perched on the edge of the desk, looking down at him. “How could you?”

He takes a big sip of the drink and looks at me. “It's not as if I planned it,” he says. “I didn't know she was going to be taken until it happened. I didn't know who the woman I married really was. But, whilst I may not have been complicit, I was most certainly negligent. Firstly, as a parent, and secondly as a step-parent. I feel almost as guilty about Cade as I do about my own daughter. At least my daughter was an adult and capable of looking after herself right up until the moment that my wife...” He says the word wife as if it's poison on his tongue. He clears his throat. “Before my wife gave her away. Cade is just a child. We failed him, and I failed her.”

“You certainly did,” comes a feminine voice from the doorway. I look up, and my eyes meet Adriana's. She walks into the room and stands at the far wall, her arms crossed defensively over her chest as she looks at her father with a set jaw and narrowed eyes.

To my shock he puts the whiskey down and buries his head in his hands as he begins to softly weep. Adriana's face instantly crumbles, but my anger only deepens. What a pitiful excuse of a man. He failed everyone that he should have been looking after, and his only reaction is self-pity and tears.

“Don't cry, Daddy,” Adriana says as she goes to him. “I'm alright now, thanks to Dimitri.”

He manages to get the quiet sobs under control and wipes his eyes hastily as he glances up at us, his face red. “I'm going to leave her,” he says.

I scoff at his words. “As if that makes everything okay. You just leave her and then what? Come back into your daughter's life?” There is no way he’s staying here with us. I don't care what Adriana does or says, no matter how prettily she begs, this piece of crap is not living in my home or on my compound.

“No, of course it doesn't.” He shakes his head bitterly. “I can never make it right, and I know that. But I'm leaving her, and I'm going to check myself into rehab. When I get out of there, I will find somewhere to live, and I really hope that you can find it in your heart somehow, Adriana, to let me back into your life, on your own terms, of course.”

His gaze flicks to me. “I can see that you have feelings for my daughter. I might be an old drunk, but I'm not blind. I just ask that you take care of her properly. Maybe you’ll let me see her when I’ve gotten sober.”

He clears his throat. “My place in rehab starts in three days, but I really can't stand another moment in Hana’s company. I don't suppose you have any rooms in any other of the houses?”

I sigh but nod. It’s better if they are apart, for Adriana and her safety certainly. Plus, Hana isn’t going to have much of a life moving forward and while I might loathe Adriana’s father, she doesn’t. He’s still her dad.

He stands and gives me his full attention. “I won’t cause trouble where I am moved to. I'm a very boring, demure drunk. I've been drinking for so long, and at such regular intervals, it barely affects me in an obvious way anymore. I'm not going to be singing rousing tunes at three in the morning, or dancing on the tables. I will probably sit morosely in a corner and stare at the walls, or read a book, and hopefully maybe have a few talks with my daughter. But as I say, it's entirely up to the two of you to decide.” He moves to the door and turns to look back at his daughter once. “I love you so much, and it breaks my heart that I have failed you so badly. I'm not saying that to win back your affection or your trust; I'm just telling you what's in my heart.”

Then he's gone, his shuffling steps proceeding down the corridor, fading away in the way that he is fading away himself. The essence of his being erased slowly by the alcohol he can't stop drinking.

“Do you think rehab will work?” Adriana asks so quietly I can't hear it, but I can see what her lips are saying.

“I see no reason why not, if he wants it badly enough. There are people who manage to kick the drink. It won't be easy, but if he has enough to live for, then perhaps it will be something he can gain control over once more.”

She smiles at me and nods. “That makes sense. I can’t hate him, addiction is an illness, and he’s my father. I’ll always love him; you need to know that. I hope he can find something to live for.”

“You know what they say gives people the will to live?”

“What?” she asks.

“Grandkids,” I say.

She gasps. “Dimitri. I’m not ready for kids.”

“I don’t mean now. One day, though, we can maybe give him something new in life to be excited about.”

“You … you said … you were never going to be a father.”

“Things change, Adriana. How about we practice with Cade?”

Her eyes go round, but then she bites her lip. “As much as I want him here with us, I do think you might be right, and he might be better off with his pops and grandma.”

I smile at her, glad she’s seeing it that way. Not because I wouldn’t try to have him with us if it was what she really wanted, but because I genuinely think it’s best for Cade. If he can live with the grandparents he’s known all his life, it gives him more stability than moving in with his new stepsister.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t practice at being the best Aunty and Uncle to him ever, does it?” I laugh.

“Technically, it’s sister and brother-in-law.” Her eyes widen further, and she slaps a hand over her mouth, her cheeks flaming pink. “Not that we’re married. Um, I didn’t mean. Oh, God, it was a stupid turn of phrase.”

Watching her, red cheeked, embarrassed, and still so beautiful and adorable, I realize that I want to marry her, and I don’t want to wait. “It was a great turn of phrase,” I say.

I kiss her hot cheek. “Come. You need to eat.”

She smiles up at me, and a plan forms in my mind.