Page 2 of The Watcher's Bride

He easily sidesteps it, as light on his feet as the wind through the trees. He tilts his head to the side in amusement.

“Skoro ty tozhe zakhochesh’ menya, Norelle Quinn. Ty moya,” he rumbles, his words a promise I don’t understand, before slowly turning and walking toward the emergency exit.

He walks with a dancer’s grace, slow and even-footed, certain and unafraid, not concerned that his back is turned to me as I pose such little threat. When he’s finally gone, my body convulses and shakes, the adrenaline and shock surging through me as my bravery rushes away, leaving terror in its wake. I quickly lock the door and turn around, leaning against it, feeling the coolness at my back.

I may not have understood what he said, but I know he’s not just some random Peeping Tom from off the street. He knows who I am. Not the person I’ve been for the last five years, but the person I used to be.

My past life has finally caught up to me.

Chapter 2

Leo

Three Weeks Earlier

“Enter.” My uncle’s commanding voice booms out from behind the door I just knocked on.

“You asked to see me, Pakhan?” I say as I walk in, looking at my uncle, Dimitri Lvovich Belyh, head of the Russian Bratva.

We’re currently in his Los Angeles home, yet stepping into any of Dimitri’s mansions feels like traveling back to the homeland. The A/C is set so low I swear I can see my breath. Dimitri sits at his ostentatiously large mahogany desk wearing a full three-piece suit and smoking a cigar. The gilded family portraits, dark color scheme, and faux fireplace stand in stark contrast to the blue skies and palm trees visible outside the window behind him.

“Leonid, come in, my son, take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the high-backed leather chair in front of him.

I do as instructed. As head of our family, when Dimitri tells you to do something, you do it without hesitation. Of course, asking me to sit down is hardly a chore, but he could just as easily told me to kill someone and I’d have pulled the trigger without hesitation. Dimitri is a widower twice over and childless, which currently means I’m the heir to the Belyh empire, yet another reason why he has my unquestioning loyalty. If I play my cards right, the family’s legacy will be in my hands one day.

Never one for small talk or formalities, Dimitri cuts right to the chase. “I need you to go to New York tomorrow.”

It’s not an uncommon request, we have business dealings there and an apartment or two, but I’m not aware of anything that would require someone of my seniority to go there personally.

“Of course, may I ask why?”

Dimitri inclines his head in forgiveness for my slight—some men have lost fingers for asking questions. “Eamonn Quinn has made an interesting proposal that I need you to look into for me.”

This captures my attention. Eamonn Quinn is the head of the Irish Mob and our sworn enemy and biggest rival. What could he have possibly suggested to my uncle that might interest him? That Dimitri even granted him an audience is beyond belief after what that bastard did.

I shift forward in my seat, eager for more information. Wondering if the opportunity for us to finally get our revenge has arisen.

“Quinn’s looking to form a truce, an alliance even,” Dimitri says nonchalantly, puffing on his cigar, perfect circles forming as he exhales.

I try to control my emotions, to not let him see the disbelief, anger, and hurt I feel that he would even consider this bullshit. If there’s anyone in this world I hate, it’s Eamonn Quinn. He took my family from me. Our family. I’m desperate to know what Quinn could possibly have offered that he thinks will end decades of fighting. As rivals, our families are on pretty levelfooting in terms of wealth, assets, and jobs, unless he has some new lucrative venture we know nothing about.

However, I know better than to press Dimitri for more details; he’d be more likely to clam up than reveal more. He takes pleasure in hoarding information. Knowledge is power, so he only allows select people to know as much or as little as he chooses. No two members of his close circle hold all the same information. He’s slowly been giving me more insights, preparing me to one day inherit, and like an addict, I’m desperate for more. But if I push or come across as too eager, he could just as easily shut me out.

His eyes gleam as he watches me squirm, taking pleasure in the power he has over me. He never misses an opportunity to demonstrate to me who the top dog is. If my father hadn’t died when I was young, Dimitri would never have been Pakhan, and I would have taken up the mantle before he ever did.

Finally, he puts me out of my misery. “He’s offering me a girl. His daughter, to be precise. A virgin beauty to take as my bride and bond our families together.”

“Quinn doesn’t have a daughter, and even if he did, why would we want to join that damned family?” I say without thinking.

Dimitri’s eyes narrow. “Do you think I am a fool, boy?” he hisses. “Obviously, I have already looked into the validity of his claims. And the decisions regarding who I choose to ally with are mine alone to make.”

“Forgive my rudeness, Pakhan, I am merely surprised. I did not mean to insult you,” I say, bowing my head.

He studies me for a moment, determining my sincerity, before continuing. “There were rumors of a daughter, a twin to his son. Over the years there were sightings of a girl who they claimed was the child of a family friend. But Quinn claims he kept her hidden to protect her, to make sure she would be pure and untouched, ready to marry off to the right ally. What I need you to do is to go and see this girl for yourself. Watch her and report back to me if she is worthy of me.”

“Yes, Uncle,” I reply, keeping my expression neutral to hide my thoughts on his assumption that this girl needs vetting for her suitability.

He nods, handing over a first-class plane ticket that departs from LAX in the early hours and an envelope containing the information I’ll need.

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