Page 71 of Savage Boss
I sink to the floor slowly, resting my back against the cool glass and bringing my legs up as much as is comfortable. Guards surround me, layers of steel and concrete, vast wealth and security systems, yet I feel utterly alone. There is no one in the world—not even Dmitri—who understands the impossible knot in my heart.
The fear for the baby is a tight band around my chest. I place my hand over my belly protectively. Will they grow up to be like him? Will they want that power, or will they run from it? Will it drag this sweet soul into the darkness, or will we find some kind of grey area we can all live in?
When I close my eyes, I can see Dmitri’s face, the sharp lines of his cheeks and jaw, the fierce, icy blue of his eyes, the curve of his lips.
I know that I love him. It’s the undeniable truth.
And that means I’m terrified. Terrified he won’t come back, terrified that hewill. Terrified of how far he will fall into the darkness as he hunts Andrey. Terrified that the price of our safety is his soul or his life.
I hug my knees as close as I can, the cold of the marble floor and the window seeping into my bones. I can’t do anything orgo anywhere, can’t help or be by Dmitri’s side. Instead, I have to wait here in this gilded cage, as the night stretches out, vast, silent, and dark.
33
DMITRI
Ipush open the oak doors of the council chamber, not caring that they slam against the walls with an obnoxious thud. The heads of the major families are gathered around the long mahogany table. At the far end, next to my empty seat, sits Andrey. The meeting stops the second I enter. My heart doesn't just beat, it thumps a savage rhythm against my ribs, a dull echo of the explosion that almost killed Clara and me less than four hours ago.
“The council is in session, Dmitri,” Oleg growls, his voice heavy with his displeasure. “You are late.”
I ignore him. My focus locks on Andrey, who meets my gaze with that familiar, revolting casual smile—the kind a sociopath wears when admiring his own handiwork.
“Attempted murder,” I bark, slamming my palms on the table hard enough to rattle the crystal glasses. “I am publicly accusing Andrey Mikhailov of the attempted murder of Clara Benson.”
Andrey lifts an eyebrow, slow and deliberate, before leaning back in his chair and draping one leg over the other.
“Attempted murder,” he repeats with mock surprise and confusion. “Dmitri, I understand your personal life is volatile, but to come late and interrupt this important meeting of thepakhanof New Yorkwith such baseless hysteria? You insult the families and the brotherhood.”
“Baseless?” I take a threatening step toward him, one that should have shaken the floor for all the rage burning inside of me. “You sent abomb, Andrey. A device planted in a package addressed and delivered directly to me. Don't insult my intelligence. Only one person has the motive, the reach, and the utter lack ofconscienceto pull such a stunt on an innocent person who has nothing to do with any of this.”
“Motive?” Andrey asks, tilting his head. “What motive would that be? And if the woman has nothing to do with you, why was she there when the bomb went off?”
There is a cold, joyful glimmer in Andrey’s gaze as he waits for me to answer, all eyes in the room turning to me. He knows he has me, damn it. If I only tell half the story, then it looks as though Clara's near murder has nothing to do with this convocation. If I tell them the whole story, everyonewillknow how important Clara is to me, making myself—and Clara—more vulnerable.
“Is this the new lawyer working for you, Dmitri?” Ivan asks, eyes narrowing with curiosity.
I grind my teeth, wishing a simple look could kill the man who is sitting across the table from me, smirking.
“Clara Benson is mine,” I growl through clenched teeth. “She is pregnant with my child.”
The expressions around the table vary, but none are as expressive as Andrey's bright smile and single clap of delight. “I'm so thrilled for you, Dmitri. I wish you both longevity and happiness.” He pauses, appearing thoughtful. “Perhaps you should look closer to home for the culprit, Dmitri. Your circle is filled with enemies, enemies you made when you inherited the syndicate from your father, enemies you made when your first wife perished in that unfortunate accident.”
All the air leaves the room in a rush, as if it's been sucked out by an inferno, except, instead of blazing heat, the temperature drops to a chill so frigid, I'm surprised that frost isn't crawling across the windows.
I can spot the knowing looks on thefacesaround the table. They know Andrey knows how to needle me, to drive me to that breaking point, where the raw, unpredictable violence takes over. The violence that makes the council fear me and consider placing replacing me, putting Andrey in charge, the violence that has them watching me very closely now.
“You speak of my wife,” Ihiss, leaning over the table, my voice dangerously low. “You put her in the ground, just as you tried to put Clara there tonight. You think I don't know? You think I don't see the pattern? You slay the mothers of my heirs, you create chaos, you try to destroy my foundation to destabilize my line and theSmirnov Bratva,so you can take all we have.”
Oleg clears his throat, loud and authoritative, though I see an edge of uncertainty as his eyes flick toward me. “Enough. We are not here for personal grief or wild speculation. This is business, Dmitri. Bring us to the business. Do you have proof?”
“Proof?” I straighten, forcing myself to breathe, to switch from the wounded husband to the cold strategist. “Have the mightybratva fallen so far that they are relying on proof to make a move against those who have betrayed the brotherhood? Let's talk about the no-confidence vote, Oleg. Let's talk about the way Andrey has conveniently compiled evidence to submit to the council against me.”
I pin each man around the table with a glare, and I know they are already acquainted with the evidence of which I speak.
“Andrey has a mole insideSmirnov Corporation. Someone with C-Suite access, who has been leaking data to the police, and you know that when the police and Feds get involved with one of us, it putsallof us in danger.”
Vasily shifts nervously. “The data is concerning, Dmitri.”
“The data is a manufactured concern,” I snap. “It is engineered sabotage, part of Andrey's long-term plan to take what he wants. And yes, he might have his eyes on me now, but what happens if he succeeds? What happens if you help him succeed? Do you think you will be safe, all of you and your bratva? Do you think Andrey will stop at just me? You are fools, if you do.”
