Page 54 of Hers to Command

“We got coffee, but Mr. Angelo was clear. We’ve gotta keep an eye on the door the entire time.”

I shrug. “Fine. Just do your thing.”

The drive to my father’s house is uneventful, and I use the time to rehearse the next steps in my head. Once we arrive, I watch from my mirrors as Josh and Ren park on the opposite side of the street. Then I step out of the car and head up the stone steps.

Inside, the air is still and faintly musty, the house as empty as it has been for over two weeks now. I make my way through the front hall, past the grand staircase, where I grab a key from a hook inside a coatroom, and toward the rear of the house.

The back entrance is tucked away, leading into a garden that opens onto the next street over. At the back, there is a narrow gate adjacent to the two-car garage that always served as extraparking for our family. When my father was alive, there was always a man standing here.

Not anymore. But my father’s BMW is still here.

The club’s backstage is brightly lit, the air thick with perfume and sweat. Katja sits in front of a mirror, her hands twisting the strap of her sequined top. Her dark hair falls in loose waves, framing a face that looks far too young to belong to someone who’s seen too much.

“We need to have a word. Do you know who I am?” While I’m in the bigger clubs regularly, especially the Downsview and Flemingdon Park ones, I haven’t been in this one for quite a while. Since I don’t recognize her, it’s a safe bet she doesn’t know who I am.

She flinches but doesn’t turn. “If you’re here to tell me I owe you or your boss something, I don’t have it,” she says quickly.

I shake my head. “No. I’m here to offer you something. I’m Anya Tsepov and since my father died, I now own this club.” I intentionally use my actual last name. Despite Riccardo’s teasing, and even Eric’s assumption, I never changed my name to Angelo officially.

No point, since it’s not like I’m planning on staying married to Riccardo.

Whether it’s the name, my revelation that I’m now her boss, or the fact that I’m willing to offer her something, I now have Katja’s full attention. She twists around to face me, her eyes wary but curious. More curious than many of the girls who’ve been working for my father for a long time and whose eyes have been dulled by the shit they’ve seen and the shit they’ve taken.

Katja’s brows knit together. “What are you talking about?”

“I know Dmitri Solntsev has been visiting regularly and that you spend time with him in the back each time.”

Katja’s lips part in surprise, but she quickly shuts them again, her expression guarded.

“I’m giving you a choice,” I continue, stepping closer. “I’ll pay you to help me deal with a little problem I have with Dmitri tonight. Just one job. After that, you decide. You can stay in this life, and I’ll make sure you only take high-paying, screened clients—if that’s what you want. Or...” I pause, letting the weight of my next words settle. “I’ll pay for you to get out. Rehab, a new start, whatever it takes. You don’t have to keep working for the clubs.”

Her eyes fill with suspicion. “Why would you do that for me?”

“Because I can. And because you can help me with my problem.”

“How much money are we talking?”

“Five grand. Cash.”

For a long moment, Katja says nothing. Then she nods. “What do you need me to do?”

Riccardo

I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking beneath me. Across from me, Toni sprawls in his usual way when we’re brainstorming, casual and relaxed, but his sharp eyes don’t miss a thing. He taps a cigarette against the edge of my desk without lighting it. “I get the sense there is more bothering you than howwe deal with Solntsev,” he says, his tone curious. “Want to talk about it?”

I glance at him, jaw tightening. “Anya.”

Toni’s mouth twitches into a smirk that I have half a mind of wiping off his face with my fist, but I respect Toni too goddamn much for that.

“Should’ve guessed. Women, man. Always the problem.”

I snort, but there’s no humor in it. “This isn’t about the usual. She’s too damn ambitious. Too reckless. She’s not going to sit still when it comes to Dmitri. Not for long. Not long enough for me to figure out how I want to play this, anyway.”

His brow arches, the smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “You think she’s planning something behind your back already?”

“I know she is,” I say flatly. “She’s been acting strange ever since the intel about Dmitri came in last night. It’s only a matter of time before she does something stupid.”

“So, what’s your move?”

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