me what that was all about?” I whispered in Tatiana’s ear as Vincenzo escorted us back down the stairs.
“What?” she smiled.
I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t act all innocent with me. We both know you’re anything but.”
As much as I wanted to believe that display upstairs was for our benefit, I knew it wasn’t. At least, not at first. It started because she needed an excuse as to why we were in that room. Like always, though, the moment we touched it shifted into something more. Something raw. Animalistic. It had gone from zero to fucking a hundred in half a second.
“Alright, fine,” she huffed. “Twist my bloody arm, why don’t you. It was just a little payback. That’s all.”
“Payback?” I frowned. “For what? You’ve never spoken to the woman before.”
“So? I need to speak to someone first to have a reason to fuck with them?”
“Generally, yes.”
Vincenzo stopped to talk to one of the soldiers who came running into the foyer. I grabbed her arm, keeping her from taking another step.
“Spill it, Tatiana.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “The bitch deserved it.”
“I’m sure she did. Care to tell me why?”
“She keeps flirting with my best friend’s husband. So I rubbed poison ivy into her underwear,” she said proudly.
Of course. Makes perfect sense.
“Isn’t that something Illayana should be doing?” My sister wasn’t the type to let other people deal with her problems. She also inherited the dark jealousy that us Volkovs were well known for. So I was surprised to hear she hadn’t killed her. Especially after what she’d told Aleksandr and I at Arturo’s party.
“Oh, she’s got her own thing planned. And it’s diabolical. But you fuck with her, you fuck with me. I had to do something. It’s my job, as the crazy best friend.”
I felt the overwhelming urge to smile, a feeling that only ever arose around Tatiana.
Vincenzo made his way over to us and we turned our attention towards him.
“What’s going on?” Tatiana asked.
“You were right.”
“I usually am. About what?”
“We found these on our cars.” He held out three tracking devices, the flashing green light on each one indicating they were all still active.
Tatiana and I reached for them at the same time, our hands colliding. A shock ran through me. Our eyes locked, the look on her face confirming she’d felt it too. It was like our bodies knew we had unfinished business. I genuinely wondered if there would ever be a day where I wasn’t affected by her. By her touch, her taste, her presence. I highly doubted it.
I turned the tracker over, studying it closely. “Standard issue. Can easily be purchased online.”
“I don’t see an anti-tampering device,” Tatiana added.
“Nor do I.”
“What does that mean?” Vincenzo asked.
“It means they wouldn’t have been notified that you found and removed them.”
Tatiana rotated it in the air, getting a good look at it from all sides. “How long do you think the battery life is on these?”
“Most only have roughly six to eight hours. But I have seen them last up to four weeks. We can search the model number online and find out exactly, though.”
Tatiana nodded. “We should find out before we put them back. If they’re close to running out, they’ll be looking to switch them before they die.”
Vincenzo’s head darted between us as we spoke. “Hang on, hang on. Why would we put them back?” he questioned, looking confused.
“They’re using these to track your soldiers and find out where they’re going. More specifically, where you’re setting up your houses.” She gave the device back to Vincenzo. “Now that we know, we can use it against them.”
“You mean set a trap?” Eagerness shone in his green eyes.
“Exactly.”
I stared at the screen of my laptop, rubbing my temples, hoping to alleviate some of the pain throbbing behind my eyes. By the time Tatiana and I got back to the apartment, it was close to 11 p.m. After Vincenzo found the tracking devices, we came up with a plan to set a trap for Franco.
It was unclear whether or not he was there personally during the raids. The opportunity to find out was too promising to miss. Worst case scenario, we’d get one of his high ranking Lieutenants instead.
Tatiana went straight to bed, but there was far too much on my mind to even try and sleep. I decided instead to stay up and see if I could find my father, or at the very least, Dominik. I had no luck. None of my facial recognition programs picked up anything. There were hundreds of “possible matches” that turned out to be nothing. It took me hours to go through them all, but I had to be sure. It was like they’d literally dropped off the face of the Earth.
It shouldn’t be possible. Especially in this day and age. There was a camera on every corner of every street. Sometimes two or three. How was he avoiding them?
It was the second time in my life that I’d felt like a complete and total failure. My jobs in the Bratva were security and tech, both of which I’d failed miserably at over the last few weeks.
Even though I’d never envisioned Mila’s betrayal, I should have prepared for it.
I accepted responsibility for what happened, and I needed to fucking fix it.
With a deep sigh, I leant back in my chair, running a hand down my face. I’d been staring at the screen for so long that my vision was starting to blur. I knew I needed rest, but I just couldn’t bring myself to go to bed. Not yet. This nagging feeling was itching at me, scratching at my brain and taunting me. I was missing something vital. Crucial. And I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I figured it out.
“Nikolai.”
I turned, Tatiana’s soft voice startling me. She stood in her doorway in a tank top and a pair of short pajama shorts, a black silk robe hanging over her shoulders. I knew she’d put the shorts on for my benefit, because she always slept in her underwear.
“It’s 2:30 in the morning.” Concern flashed across her face. She moved, taking a seat at the table across from me. “Have you slept at all?”
“Not yet.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “You should really get some rest. You must be exhausted.”
I shrugged a shoulder, never taking my eyes off her. You’re so fucking beautiful.
I wanted to say the words. They were right there, on the tip of my tongue. But no matter how badly I wanted to, I couldn’t get them past my lips. I was afraid to scare her away. In some ways, she reminded me of a skittish animal. Whenever anything from our past came up, she bolted in the opposite direction. That included compliments.
“What are you doing?” she asked softly, her eyes darting to my laptop and back.
She knew what I was doing. She was just trying to get me to talk about it in the hopes of making me feel better.
“Why are you up?” I asked instead of answering.
Her lips pursed. “You’re deflecting.”
I was, but I needed to. I couldn’t think about it anymore. I couldn’t think about what my failure to protect my family had resulted in, what was happening to my father right at this moment. If he was even alive—which, if I was being honest, I didn’t really believe.
Aleksandr turned down Dominik’s offer, and my uncle’s last words consumed my thoughts every second. “Last chance, little nephew. Hand over control or your father suffers.” “What happens next is on you.”
I’m not sure what Tatiana saw on my face, but she must have realised how desperately I wanted to avoid talking about it.
“You want a distraction,” she nodded, a look of determination in her eyes as she disappeared back into her room, returning a moment later with a deck of cards. She slammed them down onto the table, taking her seat.
“What’s this?” I asked, pushing my laptop to the side and bracing my elbows on the table.
“I’m giving you what you want. We’re going to play poker.”
I cocked my head, arching an eyebrow as she shuffled the deck. “Poker?”
“Yep.”
“No offence, but I don’t think a game of poker is going to help distract me.”
“Why not?” she began to deal out the cards. “It’s always worked in the past.”
“That’s because we played strip poker, Tatiana. It wasn’t the game that was distracting. It was you. Naked.”
Her eyes slammed on me, hand frozen in the air. Sexual tension snapped between us, hot and full of burning, sizzling energy. It was something we used to do all the time. We couldn’t go out like regular couples. Hiding our relationship was an idea we were both happy with, but it came with negatives. So, we’d come up with ways to entertain ourselves. After sneaking her into the main house (and let’s be honest here, fucking in the hidden passageways in the walls), we’d lock ourselves away in my bedroom and do all sorts of filthy, depraved things. Things a nun would have a heart attack over. Sinful, dirty things.
Our version of “strip poker” wasn’t the same as what I’m sure everyone else’s was. Whoever lost the hand didn’t just have to take off an article of clothing. They also had to do a dare, usually of the sexual nature, because those were the best ones.
Fuck, I was getting hard just thinking about it.
We stared at each other, neither one of us saying a word. The tension continued to build and build, so thick that it suffocated the air around us.
Tatiana resumed dealing. “Five card draw? Same rules?”
Despite the excitement pulsing through my veins, I had to say, “we don’t have to do this.” The last thing I wanted was for her to feel pressured, like it was her job to distract me. It wasn’t.
“Shut up and pick up your cards.”
A chuckle slipped free and I did as she demanded.
We both looked at our cards. Tatiana dumped one and I dumped three. Since she was the dealer, she dealt out the replacement cards before glancing at her hand again, lips pursed.
“I bet socks,” Tatiana said, projecting an air of nervousness I didn’t entirely believe. Like I mentioned before, our rules for strip poker differed from the way other people played. One person bet an article of clothing. Depending on how confident you were in your hand, you could match their bet. If you won, they had to remove the piece of clothing they originally bet. Or you could raise it by betting a different piece. Like pants. They could either fold, which meant they’d lost the hand and had to remove whatever article of clothing they’d originally bet, or they could match. Whoever had the lowest playing set of cards had to remove their pants.
You could play several different ways. You could bluff your way through, pretend you have a shit hand so the other person feels overconfident and bets higher, thinking they’ll win. Which was what I had a feeling Tatiana was doing at that moment.
Or you could come out hot, bet high, and hope you had the better hand.
I studied her closely, tapping my fingers on the table. “Raise. Shirts.”
Tatiana smiled. “Match.” She showed her cards.
Four of a kind.
Sighing, I got to my feet and unbuttoned my shirt, rolling my shoulders back as the fabric slipped from my body.
