Clubs: The Suit’s Book 2

Present day . . .

She hides her fear well, but not well enough. I know every pretty thought that runs through her mind. The way she breathes—it’s not stable. The way her eyes roam the room instead of looking me in the eye. She wears her thoughts on her face as clear as day

I used to be exactly like her. She even steals like I used to.

I never thought my father’s passing would bring such good luck. She fell right into my arms, right where she belongs.

Sitting at the large table on the middle deck, I look up at Mia. “Is she up?” I ask.

Mia never looks me in the eye. I’ve never done anything to her, but she’s always feared me. “She is, sir. She’s getting ready in the dress you told me to lay out for her.” She blinks rapidly.

“Good. I expect her in five.”

Leaning back in the white padded chair, I readjust myself. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind, but the property my father bought before he passed wasn’t far enough. I want to make sure the Romanos have no clue where she is. I prefer the cold in Russia over the direct sun constantly burning my skin, but there are pros and cons to every situation, I suppose.

Adrian sits across from me, Dimitri right next to him, and Lev at my side. They stay quiet, staring at the white plates in front of them while patiently waiting to eat.

Waves crash against the sides of the boat, and the warm wind gently blows the leaves of the plant in the center of the table.

“They’re looking for her,” Lev speaks up, breaking my moment of peace.

“I’d be shocked if they weren’t. Do they know you’re working with me?” I ask.

“No. I’m not going back either. I’m with you.”

I give him a strange look. He phrased that in a way that’s off-putting.

I had Lev sort out a lot of the transactions with the men who work for me. This was my way of getting Sloane. If I were the one to go out and get her, there would’ve been a bright spotlight on me.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like you have much of a choice, Lev.” I reach for the juice and pour myself a glass.

All my life I’ve known exactly where Sloane was. Everyone in the Bratva did. When Kirill told Giovanni Genovese he had a sister, everyone was ready to kill my brother themselves. The alliances we had with other families were torn when they found out about Sloane’s father’s infidelity. A cheating woman is a dead one.

We all agreed to keep our mouths shut about the truth as it could work in our favor in the future. If Sloane were never born, there was a chance we could all get passed the issue, but Kirill had other plans in mind. It was a premature move on his part. It was supposed to remain a secret, but I understand why he played that as his last card. He stirred up so much shit with another family there was no going back at that point.

My father allowed me to become more involved once I turned eighteen. Growing up with the Bratva, Sloane was known as the witch. People talked about her all over as if she were a myth, never seen before. They said her looks alone would leave you questioning what was real. Some of the men would volunteer to handle business with Ludis on the off chance they could see Sloane with their own eyes—to put the myth to rest.

The few who have seen her agree with the tale. Now that I’ve seen her, I’m finally able to form my own opinion on the matter. I believe it in a sense. She is beautiful, but I’m seeing reality just fine.

“She’s a pretty little thing—Sloane,” Adrian says as if he can hear my thoughts.

I scowl at him, suddenly nervous he’ll believe in the stupid myth. If Sloane is able to manipulate my men, I may as well call my efforts a loss. “She is. You put a fucking hand on her, and your thumbs will be missing.”

“And who says she’s yours?”

“I do. And if I need to repeat myself one more time, your tongue will be missing as well.”

Dimitri covers his laugh as he reaches for a slice of toast.

“You think something’s funny, brother?”

He clears his throat and takes a bite. “No. This girl is just going to cause a lot of problems.”

“They’re problems I will deal with.”

Dimitri scoots his chair toward the table. “I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t think this plan is even going to work.”

“Did I ask for your opinion? You’re welcome to walk out the door if you don’t want to be a part of this.”

He looks down at the table, shaking his head. It’s good that he’s aware I wouldn’t let him leave alive. “Giovanni doesn’t even know you have her,” he says.

Agitation overwhelms me as I take in a deep, exhausted breath. “I’m sorry, do you want to take over, Dimitri?”

My attention is stolen by Sloane as she takes small steps toward the table, her hands clasped in front of her. She isn’t wearing the dress I told Mia to lay out for her; she’s still wearing my crewneck and a pair of shorts. Her long, natural curls flow with each step she takes. Her face is pale, lacking any color. Her hair is so blonde it looks bleached.

I get up and pull a chair out for her. She looks up at me and smiles softly.

“Thank you,” she says.

Her words run through my mind on repeat. Whether she realizes it or not, there’s a kind melody attached to her voice. I’ve never felt any reservations about what I do, and that won’t change just because she thanked me for my ingenuine actions.

I reach for my knife and grab a chunk of her hair, cutting it right off. “No, thank you,” I say, returning to my seat and taking another sip of my drink.

Her mouth falls open as she reaches to grab the strands of hair that are shorter than the rest.

“You’re not going to find the missing hair there, sunshine. He has it,” Dimitri chortles, pointing over to me. His childish attitude only puts me in a sour mood.

“And what was the purpose of that?” she asks, her voice stern but not intimidating by any means.

“Just eat your fruit, Koldunya.” I push the plate closer to her. “Adrian, package this up and deliver it.”

“I—”

“Yeah, we’ve done the stuttering game enough,” I say, looking right at her for a moment. She’s fragile. I can see the veins in her thin skin. “Here, cheers.”

She doesn’t pick up the glass.

Mia walks over to us, placing our meals on the table.

“Thank you, Mia.”

“Of course.” She nods and walks out.

I address my men next. “Ostavte nas.” Leave us.

They all nod and follow behind Mia.

Sitting back in my chair, I look at Sloane. Her oval face drops with disappointment. She won’t look at me, just like Mia won’t. I can’t blame her—I just humiliated her in front of my men.

“You’re going to need sunscreen,” I tell her while I admire how smooth her skin is.

“I think that’s the least of my concerns.” Her eyes go squint as she gives me a mocking smile.

I ditch the juice and grab my glass of vodka. “You’re right about that.”

“Just tell me what you want. Where are we even at?”

I lean around the table, grabbing onto the handle of her chair and pulling her close to me until her legs are touching mine. “You’re going to help me get what I want.” I trail a hand along her thigh. It feels smooth, as if she has body oil on her skin. “As for where we are . . .” I look around us and smirk. “Looks like your own personal hell to me.”

I understand why men want her. She is gorgeous. Her full, rosy lips, button nose, and long eyelashes make her look innocent—and she probably is. In her sweet mind, there isn’t any darkness.

“You like it here, Sloane?”

“No.”

“That’s unfortunate.” I take another sip of vodka and click my tongue. “You might be here for a while.”

“You’re a piece of shit,” she says as she grabs a banana from the bowl in the center of the table, along with a slice of toast.

She’s feisty, I’ll give her that. I expected her to obey my every command, but she fights back. Which means this will be fun, no doubt—but she’ll also be a pain in my ass. No one has fought me since Kirill died.

“I’m many things.”

She reaches for the butter and spreads it over her toast. Her bright doe eyes look at me and then dart back down, her emotions written all over her face. When her grip tightens around the knife, I don’t stop her. I can read her actions from a mile off and know before she moves that she’s going to try to stab me with it. I can take the hit. It’s a butter knife after all—it won’t do anything. I’ve had a sharp knife plunged into my palm before, and this is nothing compared to that.

“That was a perfect way to ruin breakfast,” I say, turning the knife back on her.

Her body stiffens under my touch. She looks at me in pure disgust. I don’t feel guilty or ashamed of my actions, but it seems she does. She can’t even attack me with confidence. Her words are the only weapon she has, and they won’t get her far at all.

With the knife to her throat, Sloane grips the edge of her seat.

“There are rules, Koldunya.” I dig the knife deeper into her skin. “If you try to leave, you will be punished. If you refuse to care for yourself, you will be punished. If you defy me in any way, you will be punished.”

“Your rules don’t mean anything.”

“They do. And on the off chance you withstand my punishment and continue to defy me, I’ll pay your family a visit.”

Her breathing halts and she shuts her eyes. See, now, that’s the reaction I wanted. It’s as if she doesn’t care what happens to her, but if anything happens to her family it’s a different story.

“No,” she whispers.

I lean back in my chair and readjust myself. “You can leave.”

She opens her eyes and pushes her chair back quickly. I don’t bother looking up at her no matter how priceless her reaction may be.

Getting to know Sloane will be a lot more fun than I imagined.

Leaving Lev with Sloane, I only hope he can handle her. The ship is a couple miles off the shore of Long Island, making my trip to the city a hassle. On the way there, I went through everything my brother has on Sloane.

Kirill didn’t do his research correctly; most of the information he has on her is wrong. He wasn’t as connected with the Bratva as I thought. A part of me isn’t even surprised because he never thinks his plans through. If you hand him a gun, he’ll ask who he needs to shoot. He doesn’t care for reason or motive. He thought Sloane once lived in an orphanage, but she didn’t. Her father, Ludis Koziov, swept her away as soon as he found out she was in the NICU.

Ludis has tried to keep her hidden from the other families her entire life. He’s done a good job for the most part, but it seems Sloane doesn’t quite understand she was supposed to stay hidden. Seeing her running through the streets of the city was the last thing I expected. I thought I’d have to take out her brother to get to her.

Men want her dead, myself included, but that wouldn’t have stopped me from showing up to her house and taking her from there. How lucky I was to have her fall directly in my arms instead. This small, pitiful girl is the reason all our alliances are now void, and she should’ve listened to her father. Ludis’s actions alone should have gotten him killed years ago, but my father didn’t think it was necessary.

Ludis may be getting weaker as time goes by, but underneath all his hurt is a man like me. A man who wants nothing but revenge for his family.

Unfortunately, we’re avenging two different families, and he’s on the wrong side.

I never thought Ludis would be the man to break the alliance, but some people just have no mercy. Neither did Kirill. There wasn’t a drop of remorse in his heart the day he killed Sloane’s birth mother. It used to be difficult for me to understand how he could be so detached. My brother didn’t ever think about the consequences. He didn’t blend in well with our lifestyle after we were adopted and was the kind of man who handled everything with purpose. He wanted to keep us safe, but all that changed once he understood we had power through Pavel. He became reckless. He went behind our father’s back all the time, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

It took a while, but his mistakes caught up to him. Of course, I was thrown into the crossfire, always having to do his dirty work. That’s why the Romanos hate me. Because the older I got, the more I knew I was the one who had to take care of Kirill. He needed me by his side. He’d call me all the time and demand I help him. I couldn’t say no.

He was supposed to be my big brother, my protector, but everything changed after he realized he didn’t need to take care of me anymore.

Kirill wanted to marry Nina to form an alliance with the Cosa Nostra. He never told anyone what his plan was or even why he wanted to—he just went ahead with it. He had a strange obsession with Nina. I understand why she wanted nothing to do with him; Kirill wasn’t much of a person at that point. He depended on drugs that made his body age far beyond his years. He never would have been able to give her a future. If Giovanni didn’t kill him, the drugs would have done so soon enough.

My brother had many years ahead of him, but he welcomed death with open arms. The devil’s dark shadows didn’t fall through his grasp—he was able to grab onto it.

I don’t want to take Nina away from Giovanni. No, falling in love was the stupidest thing he could have done, and I’d rather he live with his mistake his entire life. She’s his biggest baggage. A weakness.

For killing my brother, Giovanni Genovese will get what’s coming to him.

Through the years, being shot twice and almost getting my ear cut off, I grew sick and tired of playing my brother’s games. While I was always trying to help him, my life was constantly on the line.

Now he’s not here to finish what he started, but I still can.

The second I set foot in the VIP room of the club, three women surround me. The lights in the room shift from a dark red to blue. Adrian sits on the bench in the corner with a woman’s breasts in his face. I shake my head and try to cover my laugh with my hand.

“You’re spending your free time wisely, cousin,” I tell him in Russian.

He takes his head away from her and glares up at me. “Damn, you’re finally here.”

In the corner of the room is a small bar full of my favorite drinks, which I have one of the bartenders restock before every meeting. Some of the idiots I’m meeting with today drive me to the point of thinking alcoholism is the least of my concerns.

I pour myself a glass of vodka and swirl it, droplets falling down the outside of the glass. “Where are they?” I ask, just as Dimitri walks in with the pests I need to deal with. “Perfect,” I grumble. Setting the glass on the table, I take a seat.

One of the women tries to straddle my lap, but I brush her away. I didn’t hire them for me—I hoped they’d be able to distract the other men and get them to lower their guards. I need to know where they fucked up.

They walk toward the table with caution.

“So, what happened?” I finally ask.

Aaron is the younger one. He hasn’t been working for me all that long—I’d say it’s been about three weeks—and he’s already fucked up. His eyes are exhausted, and his hair is cut short. “It’s gone,” he says in a shaky voice.

“Well . . . what do you want me to do about it?”

He shakes his head. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a young man look so scared. He’s got to be nineteen at least. He’s a tall boy, lacking in muscle.

“Are you going to kill me?” he asks.

I contemplate this for a moment, but that wouldn’t achieve anything. He knows where the money went, and now he needs to fix it.

“I could take a finger,” I scoff. “But I want my money, Aaron.”

“Boss, I don’t have it, I told you. Just let me pay the price.”

I take a large sip of my drink and slam it down on the table. “A finger won’t get me my money back, will it?”

He stares at me, confused. That’s two people who’ve stolen from me in the past twenty-four hours. Any other day I’d cut the loss, but he needs to prove himself.

“No, boss.” He looks down, embarrassment tormenting him.

“So what’d you get with it, man? New PlayStation? Maybe you got yourself a car.”

He looks straight to the ground, his cheeks flooding with humiliation.

“No? Was it a house? That was a hundred thousand.”

The poor man looks like he wants to die on the spot. I can’t be the one to coddle him like a fucking child—my father didn’t coddle me, and I turned out just fine.

With the lack of a response, I get up from my chair and walk to the door. “Better find some way to make back my money.” I take a step out into a sea of hundreds of bodies dancing to the music and glance back over at Aaron and his buddy—I can’t remember his name. “You have a day to return it,” I tell him.

“I can’t get that kind of money to you in a day.”

“You have twenty-four hours,” I say, closing the door behind me.

Truth is, I don’t need the money from Aaron, but if he wants to join me, he needs to prove himself. And if he doesn’t—as I guess will be the case—he’ll lose a finger and I’ll throw him out.

Men never fucking fail to surprise me.